Happy Ending

Project

Thankfully, the rest of the day had passed without incident.

I hurriedly left the school and walked home. Diving face-first in the chores, I tried to forget the day when the doorbell rang.

"Doorbell?" my mind thought "we have a doorbell?"

I walked over to the door. Taking deep breath, I opened it.

There, of course, was James."Hey Linda." He said. "Don't we have a project to finish?"

"Huh? What?" I said "how did you find where I lived?"

"I hacked the school system. It has everyone's info on it." He said, as if it was no big deal and he did it every day. Hell, he might.

"Well, whatever. We can't do the project here." I said.

"Why not?" he asked

"I'm doing chores. Dad gets mad when I don't finish them." I replied

"I'll help then." He said.

"You can't!" I insisted.

"Linda" he said "I need to get a good grade o this project to pass the class. Help me out here." He gave me these pouty, sad eyes. I couldn't say no.

"Fine" I said. "But let's be quick."

"Alright!" he said, and walked in.

"Sorry for the mess." I had said. "My aunt brought her dog over last night and it liked breaking things. I haven't gotten the chance to clean it up."

"It's okay." He said, smiling.

"Err..." I said. "So, want a drink before we get started?" trying to be a hostess.

"Sure. That would be awesome!" he said.

"I hope waters ok with you. We don't have much of anything else."

"Waters perfect." He said, and sat on the couch. "I'll get everything prepared."

"Thanks!" I said, and went into the kitchen. After I found two cups not cracked or dirty, I filled them with water and walked back into the front room.

The script, materials, and everything were laid neatly on the dining room table. James, however, was standing next to the wall, looking at something. "Is this your mom?" he asked, pointing to a picture on the wall. It was a picture of her, happy, in a gold frame that said the words "loved, missed."

"Yeah." I said.

"Did she die?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah" I answered just as quietly. "Cancer."

"I see" he said. Not asking any questions.

"Ok!" I said, falsely cheery. "Where do we start?"

"Well," he said, and began asking questions, like where it would be best to film certain parts and such.

For some reason, he was dead set on filming from awkward angle.

"Ok." He said. "That about settles it. The camera hangs from the ceiling."

"I told you that was never going to happen!" I said, shook my head, and laughed. "God why do you insist on making this so much more difficult?"

"It's funnier!" he said.

"Hopeless" I said, smiling and shaking y head. "Absolutely hopeless."

"Hey" he said

"Yeah?" I said "and please not let it be some ridiculous idea."

"That's the first time I ever heard you laugh" he said. "It's a nice laugh."

"It's the first time your humor was funny." I muttered. "But thanks anyway."

"Film time?" he asked, holding up the camera

"yep." I said, and stood up. He stood as well and grabbed his bag.

"We won't need anything but the script and camera, right?" He said, packing his bag.

"hopefully." I said.

"Hey, did you hear something?" he asked, pausing his cleaning.

I stopped to listen. "Fuck" I whispered. "You need to leave. Now."

"But, why?" he asked. "We have to-"

"Now!" I said. "Dads home. He hates uninvited visitors. Especially boys. Quick!" I literally shoved him out the back door and shut it as dad burst in the front.

"Linda!" he called, drunk and slurred "I sure hope you finished you cleaning!"

He walked in and his eyes clouded over."You did NOTHING?" he roared, furious. "HOW COULD YOU? I ASK YOU TO DO ONE DAMNED THING IN THIS FUCKING HOUSE AND YOU FUCK IT Up YOU LITTLE BITCH HOW CAN YOU CONSIDER YOURSELF MY CHILD YOU'RE SO PATHETIC I WISH YOU HAD NEVER BEEN BORN-"

His rant continued as he flew at me and began beating me with his fists. I curled into a ball and waited for his drunken blows to slow so I could make a break for it. They hurt. His fists. They hurt like hell. However, if he was any less drunk, his blows would be worse. He was hitting the cabinets behind me more than me and wasn't thinking to kick.

I found my chance and broke free, sprinting to my room and locked it behind me while he ranted downstairs.

"Damn it" I said, taking off my shirt and examining the already forming bruises on my back that sat on top of the healing ones.

"Asshole. Looks like no dinner tonight."

I went to bed that night, scared, hungry, hurting, and lonely.