Life, Just Life - JackMature

 The day I was told I would have to leave my parents behind was the same day I cried out in joy for the first time. Dad came home wasted, again and mom was off somewhere probably with another man.
“Jack, get in here,” my dad yelled, I got up from my mattress on the floor in the attic and ran downstairs, “What dad?” I asked,

“Come here son,” his words were slurred and his pupils dilated. I obeyed,

“Where’s my wallet?” he asked,

“I don’t know,” I shrugged the best way to act when he was this drunk was calm,

“Where’s my wallet?” he asked again,

“Have you looked in your jeans?” I asked, he shook his head slowly his eyes narrowing,

“Where’s my wallet boy?!” he shouted in my face,

“I don’t know.” I repeated calmly, he slapped me hard on the cheek and I fell to the ground hitting my head against the glass table. Lying on the ground I could feel the cool blood dripping down my face, my dad stood over me.

“I don’t know who you think you are taking my things!” he kicked me in the stomach, I groaned, his boot was hard and my stomach still hurt from last time he beat me up.

“I curse the day you were born, you’re nothing but trouble,” he aimed a kicked in my chest, the breath was knocked out of me.

“Stop dad!” I cried, my ribs were already bruised and most probably cracked from the last time. He had kicked me down the stairs because I told him I didn’t want to meet Kyle, Kyle was one of my dad’s ‘business’ men, basically a drug dealer. Or so I thought, he never told me anything,

“No. You little piece of- ”  the interruption prevented my father from finishing his usual cursing spree,

“I’m back!” my mom yelled from the hall, she stumbled into the lounge and saw me on the floor blood staining my face.

“What’d you do to him?” she asked falling against the door,

“Teaching him another lesson of life, never take my stuff,” he spat on my face,

“I didn’t take it!” I growled through the pain, he kicked my face and my nose crunched, I yelled in pain and my hands flew to my face.

“What did he take?”

“My wallet,”

“It’s on the kitchen table,” my Mom laughed and collapsed in her heels. “It’s. On. The. Kitchen. Table.” She squealed in amusement, each word was broken up with gasps of laughter,  I didn’t move as his heavy feet stormed away closely missing my face. As usual the joke was on me.

“Mom?” I cried gingerly,

“Get up you baby,” she laugh a high pitch giggly noise which hurt my ears. There was a heavy knock on the door,

“Get it, it’s the pizza!” my dad called to my mom, she pulled herself off the floor and I heard her uneasy footsteps reach the door.

The End

2 comments about this story Feed