Grey

16.

"Bradlii! Get Scott and I some beer!" My dad yelled at me.

I watched my fourteen/fifteen year old self scurry to the kitchen and to the fridge. I recognized this place as my home. Not the apartment though- the house we use to live in before we were evicted. It was weird. I was watching myself in the third person but I could feel everything fourteen year old Bradlii was feeling. Like I felt how scared I was when my father yelled for me. I could even here her thoughts. Well my thoughts technically.

"H-Here dad-" I say about to hand them the beer before I trip over my own feet. Both of the beers fly out of my hands and crash on the floor shattering.

Why'd I have to grab the glass bottled beer?

"Dammit! What the hell is wrong with you!" My dad yells standing up from the couch to hover over me.

I cower back scrambling to my feet.

"I-I'm sorry- I'll clean it up- I'll get you more-"

"That beer is expensive! You think money grows on trees!" He booms stalking towards me.

"I-I'm sorry-" I cry shaking in fear.

Present-self wanted to beat the shit out of him. I wanted to protect young Bradlii from that son of a bitch. But I knew how scared she was- how scared I was. Her fear paralyzed me as it did her.

My father was about to take another step towards me (to hurt me no doubt) but Scott puts a hand on my dad's shoulder.

"It's okay bud- I'll buy us more." He says to him. He then turns to me and says in a gentle tone,

"No sense in crying over it."

I wipe my tears away- still shaking in fear. I was grateful though that Scott calmed him down. Now Scott had beautiful wavy brown hair and dimples on each cheek that made him look younger then he actually was. Pretty sure he was in his late thirties or early forties. He was pretty to look at though. My dad scuffs- pulling me from my trance. He backs away from me- glaring and says,

"Let's just go to the bar. I need whisky anyway." Then heads to the car.

I rush to the kitchen to grab some rags when Scott joins me.

"I'll help you." He says grabbing some paper towels.

"Y-You don't have to- besides he's waiting for you. You don't want him to get mad." I say while cleaning.

"The bastard is always mad." He laughs helping me clean up anyway.

I can't help but break a grin. I jump though when I hear the car horn blare.

Scott sighs, then looks at me.

"Don't let him get to you kid." He half smiles for comfort, putting a warm hand on my shoulder.

A fluttering feeling spreads through out me- a feeling I've never felt before as I watch him walk out the door. He was the first person to ever make me feel safe around my father.

Suddenly the scene changes. Not much though. I'm still about fourteen but now we were in the kitchen and the season was winter. My father and a couple of his buddies (including Scott) were playing poker at the kitchen table. I was never aloud into the kitchen when they would play. My dad didn't want me eating any of there 'game food' as he would call it. But that night I didn't have any dinner and needless to say- I was hungry. I was already pretty scrawny so a missed meal went along ways. I sneak into the kitchen trying to be quiet. The fridge wasn't at all hidden from the table- in fact it was in plain sight of it- but I thought maybe if I just grabbed something real quick they'd be too distracted to notice. That's not what happened unfortunately.