Disregard To Danger (ManxMan)

Cuts and bruises (1)

Walker

"Walker! Get the fuck down here, now!" My stepfather yells from downstairs. My mother is still at work, so this allows James to continue his abuse. It's been like this for years. When my mother is absent, he calls me names, threatens me and if he's either drunk or in a bad mood he'll take it further. Using my small frame as an excuse to assert his dominance over me. His personality does a whole 180 when my mother returns. He transitions into the perfect stepfather. Offering to take me fishing, or to a sports game. Everything to create the perfect delusion of him not being a fucked up man.

I've thought of telling my mother, but the thought of having her uplift her life once again makes me not do it. My mother has already been in an abusive relationship. She only left when Jack told her that it has to stop. That it was affecting him as well, and he doesn't want it to reach me. Little does he know that leaving our father did nothing to prevent my abuse. My real mother passed away from a car accident, my brother left shortly after. I was passed onto my grandmother, then when she passed to my aunt. She became my mother, I slowly lost the memory of my real one. I couldn't ask for better women in my life. Yet, both of my mothers fell victim to domestic abuse.

I stand up from my bed with a sigh and head downstairs. I glare at my stepfather. Who would appear to be normal, with his salt and pepper hair, smile lines and bright blue eyes? Only I know of the dark monster he hides under that freshly ironed suit.

"Took you long enough boy. Your mother will be home late. Get in the kitchen and cook me my dinner. Don't even think about eating any yourself." He growls. He grabs me by the back of my neck and pushes me towards the kitchen.

I calmly walk into the kitchen, not allowing him the satisfaction of seeing me wince from the tightness of his grip. I know that there will be a fresh bruise there tomorrow.

I take out the Ingredients of James favorite dish and start making it. Ignoring the sound of him yelling through his phone. It seems like work wasn't looking up for him today, which means that he will be in a worse mood then he already was.

In a few minutes, I am pulling the food out of the oven and placing it on the dining room table. Taking my time to set the table to perfection. I don't want to be beaten for something so trivial, especially when I've seen the glances from the teachers. They are starting to take notice of my appearance. If they tell, it will hurt my mother more knowing that she allowed the abuse to Happen. She will be hurt more, then being abused hurts me.

"James!" I call out softly. Knowing that if I'm too loud, he will become upset.

I hear his heavy footsteps approach from his office upstairs, his shoes making more noise than needed. Everything about that man is obnoxious.

He soon struts into the room. Overconfidence radiating off of him.

I remember the day that I met him. At first, he seemed to be the perfect man for my mother, he could support us, and he made her happy. Then, in a few short months, he showed his true colors to me. It first started out with being ignored, then that turned him into calling me a fag and other offensive terms. It was only a year after we first met did he lay his hands on me. I didn't clean my room quick enough, he became angry and lashed out. Slapping me in the face. Hard enough to leave a bruise behind. He then Stormed out of the room, only to return later that night to threaten me. Promising to hurt my mother if I ever told him. He then handed me a bottle of my mother's foundation. Demanding me to cover up the forming bruise. From that day on he would hit me, it slowly grew to the point where he would find different ways to torment me that wasn't detectable.

My mother is a nurse does nothing to help my situation, her job requires long shifts. I lucked out when it comes to James career. He needs to travel often, sometimes leaving for weeks. That allows me a little solstice.

"You are dismissed," his gruff voice startles me. I nod and turn around only to have him throw his glass at the back of my head. "You forgot to give me wine fucker."

Tears threaten to spill so I rush into the kitchen. Scurrying towards the wine chiller. I remove a bottle, grab another glass and head to the dining room once again. Anxiety filling my veins. This is not easy to hide, I'll have to wear a hat to hide the cuts on the back of my head. I don't want to bring any more attention towards Myself then needed.

Luckily, he lets me go up to my room without further injury.