The Everlasting Effect 💖

Chapter Three: Arawn

Disgust and anger...

That's exactly how I feel at this moment. If the weight in my chest wasn't enough to make that clear, then the stinging and battered feeling in the center of my face was. My fingers were still coated in dried-up blood from wiping my nose when that flamboyant asshole punched me in the face.

I can't believe that I snapped and let go of my control so quickly, but laying your hands on women or children is unforgivable in my world. Cowards. That's precisely the word to describe people who beat down on those weaker than themselves, just to feel bigger or live off the fear and control they have in their hands.

Respect is what my father would say while covering my stepmother and my brothers and me in welts and bruises. We were to "respect" him at all times and question nothing he said or did. Our house was silent except for the sound of being beaten and the giggling of whichever option my father had occupying my parent's bedroom. No. My mother's bedroom.

As far as I was concerned and accepted, I only had one parent my whole life, and that was my mother. That's what I have seen it as my entire life and what I will continue to see it as. Some broken things simply cannot be repaired, no matter what it is. That's just how damaged they are... Which reminds me. Click.

A little of the blood slips out of my nose from the abrupt replacement, and I simply wipe it off on my sleeve. All the anger I've been feeling for the past few hours has returned with a vengeance. That prick is going to get precisely what is coming to Liam and Thea someday. Well, that will not be someone he has in his life for very long, and her desperation for any bit of attention from something she sets beads her eyes on speaks more than enough.

I can't even think properly because my thoughts are too much, and I need a distraction right now. Before I know it, my feet have themself planted in front of my regular go-to spot. The dimly lit, faded green sign above my head reads The Dirty Rabbit in bold white letters.

This is the idealistic spot to hide away from almost anything you think of. It's not too crowded, but most of the seats by the bar or around the scattered tables are full. As I walk into the bar, the smell of stale smoke soothes my mind, and my eyes scan the regular people hanging around. An old guy named Sam, who always sits next to the jukebox to keep the oldies playing, nods at me. Stacy is seated at the bar and seems to continue the story from 3 days ago, about her new husband's awful children, to some guy who hardly speaks, so I don't know his name, but that is always around her nodding his head.

Oh well. As I take the seat by the bar closest to the door, the owner and barman of The Dirty Rabbit, Michael, greets me.

"Hey man, you look like you had a rough time at work. The usual?"

I simply just nod my head in response. Michael has always been like another one of my brothers. In the same sense, he knows exactly when to just give me a drink and when he can let out the talking bird in him. I place a clear glass of dark liquid and a few ice cubes in front of me.

"Thanks, Mike." He looks at me for a moment, staring at my nose pensively, and then says,

"No problem, amigo, there's a first aid kit somewhere in storage which I'll head to the back and find for you, but here," he places another glass of ice in it only and gives it to me.

"This will sting at first, but should help with the swelling. Again, I merely nod my head at him before he walks off. My phone buzzes and a notification about some life insurance deal displays across the screen. I think not. I twist it off before shoving it in my jeans pocket.

I pick up an ice cube and place it against my sensitive skin, which starts melting already. A sigh escapes my lips as I down the whiskey and reach over the counter to grab the bottle. I take a swig of my liquor and close my eyes for a moment, my thoughts sticking their ugly face back to the front of my mind.