"Do you have anything to say for yourself?" The principal looked towards the blonde boy slumping in the chair across from her desk. She had a bag full of white powder in her hand that she had just pulled out of his backpack. She stared him down, taking notice of his tired appearance, the yellow around his eyes with specks of purple that indicated some previous bruising. She noticed how his red, shaky hands picked at the arms of the office chair. Not that the boy was nervous, it was more so telling the principal that there were things in his system that shouldn't be there, things he's done that he shouldn't have.
Dawson was only a sophomore in high school and he had been busted with drugs in his bag. With his head still tilted down, he glanced up at the principal and nonchalantly shrugged. He can't deny it, and what did he have to lose? He didn't care about his grades anymore, going to school gave him profit because he could sell to the other desperate druggies that were worse than he was. If he were honest, he'd want to get suspended, expelled for that matter. School wasn't necessary.
The principal scoffed at the weak reply, sitting back down in her chair and pushing her dark hair out of her face, "Alright, then. Having drugs on campus is punishable by law, but until then you are suspended. I'll be contacting the authorities," she paused and stared at the boy, "and your parents."
Weirdly enough, Dawson didn't care about being criminally charged, he could get out of it. But the mention of his family was a kick in the gut, causing Dawson's eyes to shoot up into the principal's like daggers.
Apart from his drug-selling, Dawson's life was far from ideal. His father was the root of every problem he's ever encountered. He was addicted to drugs and an alcoholic. Because of his addictions, he became abusive to his family. His mother, who was an avid cigarette smoker and very neglectful, was the main target for him. Despite her neglectful behavior to Dawson and his 2 siblings, a set of twins 4 years younger than he was, he understood the addiction and still loved her. He took the responsibility of raising the twins, he knew she would never be able to.
Things truly went downhill when Dawson's father started having him go out to get his drugs. Through this, Dawson got exposed to multiple addictive substances, but did his best to stick to cigarettes. One night, his mother caught him smoking in the bathroom. "It's the closest feeling I get to home" he told her. She was never really present and his father would beat him for spending too much on the drugs he sent Dawson out to get for him. After finding out that her husband was making her son go out to buy his drugs, she confronted the man in a fit of rage and ended up getting beaten. Dawson put out his cigarette when he heard the first yell and went to comfort the twins, like he always had to.
At this moment in the principals office, cigarettes weren't the only thing he has used that day. Dawson needed to numb his emotions. The day before, his parents and siblings were in the car while Dawson was on another errand for his father. His father was driving, drunk and all sorts of high. His mother started to express her concern and he got aggressive and began to yell. His father and mother began to scream at one another and the twins cried in each others arms in fear. It was only moments later that the vehicle was flung off of the road by his father, flipping the car. His mother was impaled by a tree through the windshield and the twins died on impact. His father was paralyzed from his neck down, but he was alive nonetheless.
The more Dawson thought about it, the more he remembered, the more guilt he felt, the more drugs he took. He could've stopped it, he could've been home. He hated his father, he missed his mother, he felt so unbelievably sorry for his siblings. He should have been there. Drugs were the only thing stopping him from breaking down, and those same drugs were beginning to wear off.
Without a word, Dawson got up and walked out of the principals office. He didn't bother getting his bag, it only had some drugs and his textbooks he never touched. He had better things on his mind. He let his mind wander as his feet brought him out of the school, but he just kept walking.
He walked for an hour, his mind racing with anger and sadness, until he found himself walking through the doors of the hospital, approaching the front desk.
"I'm here to see David Wofford," He told the receptionist, "I'm his son."
Without a second thought, she smiled and said "Room 215, second floor."
Expressionless, Dawson walked up the stairwell and strolled down the hall with his shaking hands in his pockets, looking for the room that contained the person he didn't truly want to see. Regardless, he knew what he had to do.
215
He opened the door to the bland, white hospital room. As he stepped further inside, he could see his father laying motionless on the bed, eyes closed as he looked like he was peacefully sleeping. He almost looked innocent and it made Dawson's blood boil.
He stepped up to the side of the bed and stared for a few moments, looking at the monster who was getting away with what he did. His father finally began to wake up due to the sudden blockage of light from the window, and when he noticed Dawson, his face contorted to sadness.
"Dawson," His father whispered, his eyes watering with apology, but Dawson shook his head, clenching his jaw and fuming.
"Don't you dare act sorry." He gritted through his teeth.
"I am sorry, you don't understand," His father cried, "I didn't want to hurt them, they meant the world to me, Dawson, you have to understand-"
"Understand?" He sternly scoffed, "Understand that you're a no-life that killed my entire family because you can't keep your hands off of drugs?" Dawson paused, taking a moment to calm himself down. Still trying to breath steadily, he continued, "You ruined my life, you ended theirs. There is no apology to change that."
His father continued with the longing stare that he knew was far from genuine. "You don't have to believe me, son. But I am sorry, to both you and them." Dawson eyed the tubes in his fathers nose and the needles in his arms, knowing that's what was keeping him alive. His body couldn't function without them.
"I don't care if you're sorry to me," His hand wrapped around the plugs to the life support, "But you can apologize to them yourself."
Without hesitation, he pulled the plug. All of the machines went off in the room and his fathers pulse went flat after a few moments. Quickly, Dawson turned around, unlocked the window, and stuck his leg out. He was two floors up, but would rather not go to prison. He swung the other leg out and jumped, landing and easing into a tumble before running, and not stopping.
