The Banished One

Chapter 3: Father Figure

Breathing heavy, he returned to the living room, the sound of car doors closing carrying on in the air. He could hear raucous laughter and heavy foot fall on the front porch, a key being inserted into the lock. His hands were trembling as he placed them in his pockets. The door swung open and in came five men, dressed for the weather and smelling of spirits. Stumbling slightly, the tallest man of the group who had entered first, locked eyes onto him. Hatred burned in them as he stared.

"Go get the groceries from the truck," he barked before turning and stomping across the room. Stepping forward, headed toward the door, he heard a click and music began to play as the men drug the furniture to new positions. The door closed with a click behind him, his feet crackling as he stepped into the freshly fallen snow. There were six paper bags in the back of his father's truck, snow accumulating inside of them. Taking a peek inside the bags, he saw alcohol and snack foods such as beef jerky and chips. He did not dare to take any of the items because it would be noticed, he also did not want anything from the man that he despised so fully.

"Hurry your ass up!" a shout rang from inside the house. Letting out an aggravated sigh, he lifted two of the bags that were full of alcohol and headed back to the door. Inside the house, he sat the bags on the table and turned to head back out for the rest. "Try not to take so long this time," his father said menacingly, "and feel free to leave the snow outside this time!"

After retrieving the rest of the items, he had returned to the stairs, hoping not to draw attention to himself. The men had begun playing cards, causing him to hope that their attention would remain away from him and his sister. Unfortunately, his father soon called to him. "Hey, boy, have your sister come and get us some more beers!"

Scowling, he stood and strode across the room and into the kitchen, pulling open the refrigerator that was now full of alcohol. Grabbing five new bottles, he also retrieved the bottle opener, and headed back to deliver the drinks. He placed them on the table and moved to open them when a thick hand snapped onto his wrist.

A burly, bald, and bearded man sitting to the right of his father had latched onto him, glaring. "I believe your father asked your sister to do that," he spit, and unpleasant look in his eyes.

"She is too young to handle alcohol," he said flatly, working hard to suppress his anger.

Gripping more tightly, the man pulled him in toward him. "I don't give a damn about age! Your father gave you an order, you need to follow it!"

With a hard push, the man launched him backward, causing him to fall into the wall. Pain shot through his elbow as it collided with the base board. A stream of blood flowed down his arm and onto the floor as he pushed himself to a standing position, not allowing the anger and pain to show on his face.

"Make sure you clean up your mess," his father said detachedly, without looking toward him.

Clenching his hand into a fist, the man to his father's left spoke up. "I don't think he appreciates your words," he said with a vicious grin. These men had been coming over for cards every week since his mother had left, leaving him and his sister at the mercy of their father.

"You got something to say boy?" his father asked, amusement in his voice.

He knew that they would love a reason to beat him, even though they did not really need one. "No sir," he replied as normally as possible through gritted teeth. "Just upset with myself for tripping."

The men around the table laughed heartily as he turned and headed to the kitchen. He could hear the conversation around the table turn back to normal as the men resumed their game, but he also heard mention of the girl again. His stomach turned and he nearly vomited in anger. How could their mother have left without them; how could she have been so selfish. Placing pressure on his elbow, the blood soon stopped flowing so he washed his hands. Grabbing a rag, he soaked it with water and headed back into clean the blood from the floor.

Bottle caps flew past his head as he knelt on the floor, as well as some hitting him on the back. Seething, he closed his eyes and tried to ignore the impacts.

"When you are done over there, grab another round," his father told him. "Grab one for yourself while you are at it." The others around the table went silent as he finished speaking, but none of them dared to challenge him. Without replying, he headed out to the kitchen and placed the bloody cloth into the sink. He then retrieved five more bottles and headed back to deliver them.

The room was completely silent as he walked in, they had even turned off the music. Smoke hung stale in the air, making his eyes burn slightly. There was a loud clinking sound as he placed the drinks onto the table, everyone looking at his father.

"Who did you leave out?" he said menacingly. "Which of my friends have you chosen to disrespect?"

"None sir," he replied. "I do not want one."

In one swift motion, his father stood and smacked him across the face with the back of his hand, knocking him backward onto the floor. Blood flowed from his mouth and nose, as well as the cut on his elbow had opened back up.

"When I tell you to do something, it is not a suggestion, it's an order," his father growled, standing over him. "Now, I believe I told you to get your sister."

Quickly scrambling to his feet, he stared defiantly into his father's eyes. "She is not here," he lied.

Grabbing his wrist with one hand and his throat with the other, his father slammed him into the wall, stars bursting in front of his eyes as the back of his head collided with the surface. "Well, then it is in your best interest to go get her." His face was turning red as he grasped the hand around his neck with his free hand. "Now, go, get, her!" his father shouted into his face, spit flying from his mouth. Releasing his grip on the boy, he fell to the floor. After standing over him for a moment longer, his father returned to his seat.

"No," he choked out. "They cannot have her."

Fury flared in his father who stood quickly, kicking his chair backward and into the wall. In one step he was in front of his son, his leg pulled back and ready to kick. His foot flew forward, colliding with his stomach, knocking him into the wall, forcing a shout of pain out of his mouth. "Are you going to go get her now?" He lowered his eyes, staring at the floor. "Fine," he laughed as he stood up. He placed his booted foot onto his son's hand and began to put more and more pressure onto his fingers. Gritting his teeth he attempted to stay silent, but as the first sound of cracking, he could keep it in no longer.

"I won't tell you!" he shouted, tears in his eyes as he struggled to free himself from his father. A second pop sounded as he cried out in pain. A loud bang and scrapping came from the second floor. "No!" he shouted, but his father punched him in the face, nearly knocking him unconscious.

As Jaycee made her way down the steps, breathing heavily, the men stared at her. "There you are," her father said in a falsely caring voice. "My friends here wanted to meet you, why don't you come down and join us?" Her eyes locked onto her brother, who was lying nearly motionless on the floor, and took another step down. Just then a loud knock echoed through the house, causing everyone to pause and look at the door.