My Beautiful Boy ✔️

14

"Dawson!" Dad yelled, and I huff before rushing down the stairs. He and mum are sitting at the coffee table, counting notes of money. I raise my eyebrow, crossing my arms over my chest. "Get over here." Dad mumbles when he realises that I'm right behind him.

"Yeah?" I asked.

Dad clears his throat and hands me a small stack of ten-pound notes. I raise my eyebrow at him. "Go give that to The Stawarskis." He states, standing up from the table and tucking in the chair. "Give it and get home. It's late." He says, and I look down at the stack of notes in my hand.

"Dad. this isn't nearly enough." I tell him, but he ushers me away with a brush of his hand. Sighing, I grab my coat from the hanger and slip it on. Ultimately, I knew I was going to bear the brunt of showing up to Stawarski's bar with little money. He owned a club that was a few miles away from our house and it would take me about an hour to walk.

However, because I wanted to elongate the inevitable, I'll probably spend some time in the park. So, before I got to Stawarski's bar, I took a quick detour to the park and walked around, my hands stuffed into the pockets of my coat before I was in front of the bar.

I stared up at the shining name that loomed over me, shaking my head. Fear struck through as I carefully opened the door to the bar, slowly stepping inside. Darkness erupts around me, and I realise that, because the bar isn't even open yet, they were expecting me. I gulp.

The lights flicker on by themselves, and I look around as my eyes land on the selection of drinks at the back of the counter and the multiple seats. In the corner of my eye, I spotted a tall figure walking out from the back room of the bar. I turn towards it, and I realise that I'm now face to face with Stawarski. His hands are clasped in front of him and his head is raised as he looks down at me. He's a very... intimidating man. He was a bald man with a dark goatee and a tall, large build.He's the epitome of the wrong person to have debts with.

"Dawson Anderson." He roughly says, and my hands fall limp by my side. "Follow me." He says, turning around and walking away. My breath shudders as I follow him around the back. There's an office and three men stood near the door, two of which I recognise from the most recent beating. They scowl at me as I walk past and fear strikes my chest as I see Stawarski sitting behind his desk.

I'm standing in the middle of the room, and I finally understand why dad sent me. He knew what was going to happen. He wasn't going to risk getting hurt, so he sent his son. I drop my head, closing my eyes.

"Do you have the money?" I hear Stawarski say, and my eyes slowly lift back to him. I quickly dig into my pocket and pull out the money dad gave me. Stawarski raises his eyebrow. "That doesn't look like ten thousand pounds." He says, and I gulp.

"We need more time to get everything." I tell him, and I can feel sweat trickle down my forehead and my back. "It's not everything, but it's all we have." I said, and Stawarski laughed.

"Has your dad not learnt his lesson?" He shakes his head. "Have you not learnt your lesson?" He asked. "This isn't a negotiation, Anderson! I could kill you, right now." He states, cracking his knuckles.

"That's your problem, isn't it?" I finally snap. I have reached the last resort with dad. He's put me in this position because of his addictions and he doesn't even care. He. Doesn't Care. "You can continue to hurt me, Stawarski, but my dad won't care. He wasn't bothered the first time, and he definitely won't care when I go back home today." I chuckle, turning around to face the goons I know will inevitably have their grubby, filthy hands on me today.

"Anderson, watch how you speak to me." Stawarski warns from behind me, but I don't care. Maybe I like the pain. Maybe I won't be bothered if they kill me now. It'll end my misery, right?

"Go ahead." I tell the three of them as they stare at me, shock in their eyes. "Do what you want." I say, and they all look back at their boss. He obviously gives them a gesture because suddenly, they're all stalking towards me and a large fist clobbers against the side of my head.

I close my eyes.

***

By the time I got home, dad's car wasn't there. I don't know how I haven't passed out yet, but once one of Stawarski's drivers kindly took me home, I stumbled in, collapsing onto the couch.

My fingers slowly lifted to my head and I touched something wet. I'm bleeding. My almost recovered face was now covered in new, fresh bruises and it hurt so much that I kind of regret provoking them.

And, as per usual, mum and dad aren't home. They didn't even wait for me to return to see if I was okay. They went to wherever hole they crawled out of and they left me to fend for myself.

I can't stop the tear from slipping out of my eye. It stings the sharp cut right along my cheekbone and I bite my lip from crying out in pain. My cheek was swollen and my lip was cut and I was bleeding from somewhere on my head.

Instead of tending to my wounds, I stayed laid on the sofa, tears falling faster and faster as the minutes went by. My chest hurts and in that moment, I realise that something needs to change. I can't keep living like this. I can't keep fearing for my life or keep on protecting my parents from their own problems. I have a life and I don't want to lose it.

Once upon a time, I did. I roll up my sleeve and run my fingers carefully over the year-old scars on my wrist. They're evidence of a life that I fought to keep and a life that I'm still fighting to keep. They're receipts of the harsh treatment my parents put me through and the neglect that I always felt as a child.

They're also proof. Proof that there's no one else in this cruel world to rely on other than yourself. No one else who will have your back like yourself. No one else who will protect you from the demons in your mind like yourself.