Drummer Boy

  He shuffled through the small town of Reevesville, gazing longfully into the gleaming windows of stores with his gray eyes. The customers inside the buildings seemed to taunt him, with their fat wallets stuffed with money, their bags full of expensive items, and their large ceramic plates smothered with potatoes and steaks. His stomach rumbled and his bottom lip quivered from the cold. It was, after all, the middle of winter, and all he had to wear was a cheap sweatshirt from the dollar store and a pair of torn up tennis shoes.

After walking around for a few hours, he decided that he wanted to go inside a store to warm up for a while. He pushed the somewhat heavy doors of a music store open, and was immediately greeted by an endless rush of hot air. He hurried inside away from the door. He peered around at the shiny album covers of singers and musicians cds. Probably a bunch of fakes. He thought. He walked away from the albums and headed for the back corner of the store, where the sound of a Mexican screamo band was coming from. He found the source of the noise- a jukebox- and messed around with it for a while. After figuring out how to change the song, he changed it to a fast moving song with a catchy beat. He didn't care for the singer so much, but the pulsing, booming sound of the beat that kept the song playing on had such a powerful affect on him that he found himself moving to the music.

He slowly made his way over to the part of the store that had the majority of the instruments, and played with some of the instruments. Trumpets and flutes and saxaphones were not for him. He sat down behind a drum set, and tapped gently on the head of all the drums, listening carefully for their sound. The tapping slowly turned into hitting the drums with his hands, and the hitting turned into playing. He almost sounded professional! He played with the beat of the song on the jukebox, smiling the whole time. Finally, something I'm good at! He continued to play, lost in his own little world, until he was interrupted by a sharp, angry voice.

"What exactly do you think you're doing?!" He looked up to a short, skinny boy- probably sixteen or so- with a thick mop of bright red hair sitting atop his head. He wore a black t-shirt with the music store's logo on it. "I'm just- I was just-" He stuttered. The employee's face became as red as his hair. "Unless you're planning on buying that- which, I can tell from your appearance that you're not- you cannot even touch it!"

Now he was just as mad as the employee. He stood up to face the boy, but instead hovered over him from above. He wanted to shout in his face, he wanted to beat him to the ground, but he didn't want to get in any more trouble than he already was in. He sighed. "How much is it?"

"A little over three grand." The skinny redhead sneered. "Now that you know that there's no way you could ever afford it, why don't you head on out of here?"

"All right, then. Happy holidays."

He turned around and walked back out the door into the cold, harsh winds. The ice and snow blew around in the air, and slapped him across the face. It was much too cold to keep on walking around, and it was getting dark out. He had no choice but to go home.

He turned the corner of the busy street and walked straight down the road until a big, old apartment building came into view. He jogged over to the door and swung it open with a loud and slow creeaak, and went inside.

The building was extremely hideous, with it's peeling wallpaper, crumbling ceilings, ripped up floorboards, and the odor of urine. You could hear everything going on in that building when you were standing in the lobby.

He stumbled down the stairs to the hallway where his apartment was. He stood outside the door for a few minutes, then finally gathered enough courage to go inside. He pushed the cheap wooden door open and went in. As soon as both feet were in and the door closed, he was grabbed by the neck of his t-shirt. He didn't have to look up to know it was his father.

"Where have you been?!" His father's loud and low voice boomed. He swallowed. "I was just- I was just walking around town!"

"What are you doing walking around town almost all day in the middle of the winter?! Are you buying drugs? Drinking?"

"I-Dad, put me down!" As soon as the order came out of his mouth, he regretted it.

"Did you just give me an order? You. Do. Not. Tell. Me. What. To. Do!!" He threw him down to the ground, ripped his cracking, black leather belt from his pants, and whipped his son with it four times, each time harder than the last.

"Please, Dad!" He pleaded, crouched into a ball. His skin was bright red and scarred from the belt, and in some spots, even bleeding. The pain was so terrible, there were no words to describe it. He just wanted it to stop.

"Daddy, leave him alone! Please!" A young girl's voice called from the back of the apartment. It was his twelve year old sister, Juno. His dad started to charge towards her with the belt, but he ran to his father and jumped on his back, sending him to the ground.

"Get offa me, you bastard!" He kicked him off and punched him in the face once he was on top of him. He started to go back to Juno, who was completely helpless- she had been chained to one of the dining room chairs. He closed his eyes and covered his ears, but he could still hear her screams of terror. The screams seemed to rip through his skull, and penetrate through his brain.

Then, suddenly they stopped. He opened his eyes, and looked at the chair where Juno sat. Her limbs hung lifelessly over the arms of the chair, blood dripping from them onto the floor in a small puddle. His dad was panicking, circling her, trying to wake her up.

He got up and ran over to Juno. He pushed his dad to the ground with a loud thump. "What did you do?!" He unchained her and picked her up, her blood staining his clothes. He went out the door, and sprinted through Reevesville, still cradling Juno's body in his arms. He had to get her to the hospital, fast.

 

The End

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