everything about you | eddie munson

42.

My father had just returned, it was twenty o'clock and he was drunk. As usual. I sighed before he spoke.

"Whose bike is that outside?" He asks.

I get up from my seat before walking over and helping him take off his jacket, which he was having trouble taking off by himself. He smelled like whiskey mixed with sweat and cigarettes. It was disgusting.

"It's mine." I said.

I put his jacket on the coat rack and immediately feel my father's gaze on me. I turn to him, he let a confused look appear on his face.

"With what money did you buy it? Did you sell your ass on the streets of Hawkins?" He starts to laugh.

I simply remain silent, finding his joke bitter and unfunny. Only demeaning. I sigh before walking up to him and speaking up.

"Billy left it to me I picked it up earlier."

Immediately my father's smile fades. And I realize that trouble is brewing and that I should have kept my mouth shut. He frowns as he tilts his head to the side before speaking up.

"Are you telling me that this is the same bike that put you in a coma for three days?"

I nod positively, remaining silent. On the outside, I looked like I was standing up to him, and not afraid. But on the inside, I was sick to my stomach, scared and afraid of what was going to happen now. My father stifled a laugh before turning and angrily running his hands through his sweaty hair.

"Oh I should have put you in boarding school months ago..." He says.

I frown before my father turns around and runs his arm across the table sending a vase flying, the porcelain falling to the floor and shattering creating a thud throughout the house. I jump slightly.

"What the fuck was going through your head?!"

He walks up to me placing his fingertips on my temples, I close my eyes in fear. I smell alcohol and cigarettes, making me want to vomit.

"Dad please...

- What? Are you going to beg me not to hit you? That's all you deserve you stupid bitch!" He said.

He crouches down on the ground and grabs a fragment of the vase before quickly standing up and scouring my cheek. I gasp as I put my hand on my cheek suddenly feeling a liquid coming out. My dad steps back and starts banging into several objects, knocking over picture frames.

I look at my hand before I see that there were traces of blood. I frown suddenly feeling a few tears fall. The same nightmare was repeating itself. I turn to my father.

"Stop!

- How do you want me to stop? All you do is mess around!

- But that's what Billy wanted!

- I don't care what that little worthless kid wanted!"

I frown, surprised. I see my dad grab the helmet and throw it to the ground, ruining the black paint. I watch him do it, no longer having the strength to object. He turns to me, meeting my gaze with his own.

"You used to like him... What made you change your mind?

- What made me change my mind?"

He approaches me, angry. He had gone crazy. He was enraged. Uncontrollable. He brings his face close to mine.

"What changed my mind was after I learned that he was the one driving the fucking motorcycle that put my daughter in a coma and killed my wife!" He says, shouting.

I wanted to get out of here, get out of my house and run as far as I could.

"Take a good look at me."

He takes another fragment from the vase. And I immediately understand what he is about to do. And I wouldn't let him ruin that bike. No way.

"No! This is all I have left of him."

But my father doesn't listen to me. I see him heading for my door. I immediately grab the gun that was hidden under the chair cushion. I load it and point it at my father's leg before firing.

I see blood splattering on the floor before my father falls to the ground dropping the fragment of vase. He screams in pain. I sigh before lowering the gun and putting it back in its place.

I walk over to my father, close the front door and drag my father over to the couch where I have him lying. He was screaming in pain.

"Sorry..." I say.

I hadn't had a choice. How else could I have stopped him? I sighed loudly before starting to extract the bullet with a pair of pliers, I nursed the bullet's impact as I watched my father slowly fade into unconsciousness, I check to see if his heart is still beating, and luckily it is. He just fell asleep, probably because of the alcohol. I continue to tend to his wound.

———

I had just finished treating my father's wound, he was still sleeping. I stayed crouched down next to him watching him sleep. I felt a few tears roll down my cheeks, making the scar my father had caused tingle. I had almost forgotten about him.

I look at my father one last time, wondering how it could have come to this? What triggered it all? Most certainly Mom's death. I sigh before getting up and going to my bathroom to tend to the wound. I clean up and put a bandage on it before taking a shower and going to bed.