Dare Kings

Tristan's Memory

Tristan's POV

Third-person view.

7 years ago

"All of you are burdens! Why don't you all leave my house! Just like the others!" His father clamored from downstairs with rage and tempter.

Amidst the chaos, Tristan is seated on his bed with tears streaming down his face as he trembled with a mixture of hysteria and worry.

The furious voice of his father echoed from downstairs, resounding with rage and anger, accompanied by the sound of shattering glass as objects were violently thrown and broken.

Tristan had grown accustomed to his father's behavior whenever he succumbed to alcohol and its intoxicating effects. Each time his father drank and became drunk, an ominous transformation took place. The fear that gripped Tristan intensified, particularly in those moments when his mother was absent, unable to shield him from the potential danger his father posed.

"TRISTAN!" The bellowing voice called out his name, sending a surge of panic coursing through Tristan's veins.

With haste, eleven-year-old Tristan leapt off his bed and sought refuge beneath it, cowering in fear and peering out with a mixture of horror and apprehension.

"Come here boy!"

Nervously, Tristan rose to his feet, hesitating before the bedroom door. He knew the danger that awaited him downstairs, aware of the possibility of getting hurt. He knew his father's state of mind was far from stable. Nevertheless, with trepidation gripping his heart, Tristan mustered the courage to open the door.

As he descended the stairs, the cacophony of destruction reverberated in his ears. The sound of a bottle being launched and shattering punctuated the chaotic symphony, intensifying Tristan's already heightened fear.

Yet, driven by a desperate hope to appease his father's wrath, he rushed toward him, praying he wouldn't be kept waiting.

"Y-yes?" Tristan timidly uttered, surveying the wreckage that lay before him- the shattered glass, upturned furniture, and the sorry state of his father.

His eyes welled up with tears as he took in the sight, his heart breaking at the sight of his once-strong and stable father reduced to this pitiful state.

"Get me more alcohol!" His father barked with outrageous fury, his breath reeking of liquor, his disheveled appearance reflecting the depths of his despair. Shirtless, wearing stained jeans drenched in beer, his hair unkempt and damp, his face flushed with anger, he appeared a mere shadow of his former self.

"But-but..." Tristan stuttered, his gaze shifting between his father's devastated condition and his understanding of the harm it was causing.

"Did you hear me? NOW!" His father's voice thundered, leaving Tristan with no choice but to hurry to the kitchen, his body trembling with fear.

He rummaged through the cupboards, retrieving a bottle of alcohol before hastening back to his father's side, tears streaming down his face.

His father glared down at him, seething with rage, his chest heaving rapidly. "You dumb shit!" In one swift motion, he knocked the drink from Tristan's trembling hands, sending it crashing to the floor in a cacophony of shattered glass, startling the Tristan. "All you're good at is making people's lives miserable! Your teachers, and me! I don't drink that crap!" His voice pierced Tristan's ears, his face contorted with fury.

Overwhelmed with despair, Tristan broke down, his sobs consuming him.

He closed his eyes, bracing himself for the onslaught of his father's angry tirade.