Gabriel

2. Kiss with a Fist

Down the Line - José González

Enjoy, my fantastical readers!

~~~

Two books and three snicker's bars later, I check the clock and see it's only 8 pm. I pull out last night's Calculus homework and my english paper, working until they're both finished and ready for tomorrow. I fall back on my bed, wincing slightly at the pain in my ribs. I sigh, and before I know it, have drifted into a dreamless sleep.

I wake abruptly to the noise of a door slamming. I hear a giggle and a few scuffles from below, and check the clock by my bedside table. It shows 3 am. I crawl under the covers, burying myself deeper in the bed, hoping he won't bother me. But my wish seems to be denied because the door opens and my father stumbles in clearly very drunk.

"Make us some food, b!tch!" I'm still groggy and confused. He seriously wants me to make him food at 3 am? Just then he pulls me out of bed by my hair and I whimper, laying on the floor.

"Get up, fatty! We want food", he yells. I hurry up and without saying a word, head downstairs to the kitchen. He follows me down, stumbling every few steps. I rush into the kitchen, seeing the same blonde bimbo from this morning. Her makeup is in better condition and she's got a different dress on that's shorter, if that was even possible. She seems a little more sober than my father but not by much.

"I want pasta!" she exclaims, drunkenly.

"You heard her!" Father yells, motioning to Blondie. I grab all the ingredients and start making pasta. I could be asleep right now with McDreamy, but I guess I never can catch a break. When I'm finished, I set two plates on the counter, with utensils. I quickly wash all the dishes, and head upstairs.

"Eww! It's stale", I hear Blondie say from the kitchen. That makes me rush quicker up the stairs. I hear a plate smash down below me.

"That slüt!" I hear Father yell. I quickly get to my bedroom and shut the door behind me. A few seconds later I hear footsteps pounding up the stairs. He's filled with so much rage, and it doesn't help that I'm a spitting image of my mother.

I could use you right now mom, if you can hear me, I think, letting a lone tear slide down my cheek. I step back as he busts open the door. He's so mad, I think he's even sober now. And that's what scares me most. He know what he's doing, yet he's still doing it whole-heartedly.

I cover my head with my arms in front of me, but that gives me no protection as the blows come. One at the stomach has me bending over, gasping for air. Two comes to the left cheek, and by the third, I'm on the floor seeing spots before my eyes. Such misplaced rage, why me, dad?

Then darkness fully comes.

I'm in the same clearing wearing the white dress. No cuts, no bruises. Just my own internal pain. I have to get out of that home. I could take it before. It would just be a few hits here and there, but he's never knocked me out cold. I have to leave. But then it gets me thinking, what else will be better if I leave?

I have nothing, no one. My only good thing is my imaginary friend. My mom left, my dad hates me, I have no friends. Why not just make the next cut deeper across my wrists. I am so fücking done. I'll say my goodbyes to this one imaginary friend in my dreams.

I see him come out of the mist. He's smiling like usual, and I instantly feel better. I run into his arms, caching him off guard. I can't stop the sobs. Not for the hits or the cuts or the bullies or when I leave tomorrow, but for him. He's the only thing I'll really miss.

"I'm gonna miss you when I leave", I murmur, and he stills around me.

"What do you mean by 'leave'?" he asks angrily. I just shake my head, stepping back and whipping my eyes.

"I can't take it anymore. It hurts too much. I just don't want do be this anymore", I say shakily.

"Be what?" He asks, cautiously.

"Alive", I mutter, one last tear escaping from my eye. His own eyes widen with... Fear?
"Please, don't. I'm begging you", he says, dropping to his knees in front of me. He rests his forehead on my stomach.
"Please, I need you", he mumbles.
"It's time I come to you", he says, looking up into my eyes.
Standing on his feet, towering over me I pull myself way from him.
"You're not real", I say.
"Yes, I am. Please tell me where you are. At least what school you go to?" He begs.
"Roosevelt High School in Middleton, Oregon." I don't know why I tell him, but if he thinks I'm insane enough to believe he's real...
(A/N not a real place)
Nothing changes, because I won't be stuck on this godforsaken earth for one more day.

And that's enough for me to pull out of sleep. One more day.