•chapter 1•
My breath is heavy, and my heart is racing. I cant breathe. I'm panting, hard. My chest physically hurts, though the pain isn't new. I'm not scared, I'm terrified.
I hear the engine turning off, the car door shut, and footsteps. I hear the keys jingle and eventually one of them finds the lock on the door. I feel like if I listen hard enough, I can hear him breathing; breaths of the devil.
My ears are ringing and my head is fuzzy as I run up the stairs and into my bedroom.
The door opens. I hear him clear his throat. "Tobias?" He pauses. "Son I'm home."
I run faster until I make it to my room. I kick of my shorts and hop into my bed, thinking I could fake sleep. It worked once before. Throwing the covers over my head, I slipped off my shirt and waited. After a minute I popped my head up, thinking everything is okay. That he won't come in. When all of a sudden-
BAM!
Shit. Shit. Shit! What was that? I turn my head to see shattered glass all over the floor. The statue my mom gave me before she died. Before she died and left me alone with him. This monster. I'm shaking now, crying too.
I'm a man, but in my father's house, I'm a boy, whose terrified of his own blood. A boy who had to learn to lie to people about the bruises on his body. The boy who wanted to scream, but could never, would never even attempt. The boy who is shaking and crying because his father is home.
I hear his footsteps. Thud...thud...thud. Every thud getting louder in turn. He's coming up the stairs.
The door bursts open and I shudder in fear.
"Tobias. How dare you hide from me! All I wanted was to see you, why? I wanted to come home and talk to you. I thought you were smarter than this. But your not. Your such a fool. A fool so great you'll never amount to anything!" He was screaming. His teeth clenched and voice too stern for me to deal with. With all of my might, I had been trying to keep myself together, but with that, I had broke.
"Please, Daddy, please." I was on the floor, crawling to the door; for anything closest to freedom. His hand raised, and I prepared for the worst. The pain started on my cheek, and trickled down my neck.
My head was spinning, and I couldn't think anything but tomorrow. The choosing ceremony.
"Dad! Tomorrow. " It was all I could get out, but it seemed to work. I watched the wheels turn in his head, as he remembered about the choosing ceremony tomorrow, which I had to attend. His hand, which was raised above his head, came down to his hip. His lip cringed and he turned around to leave. His hand slowly turned the knob as he said his last words to me. "You got lucky, son."
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After what felt like forever, I decided to go downstairs and eat. With all of the nervousness of the choosing ceremony tomorrow, I hadn't eaten all day. My stomach burned.
I wiped my face and took a deep breath before turning the doorknob. I peaked my head around to see where Marcus was.
After all that's happened, I refuse to call him dad. I don't tell anyone he is actually my father. So how can I call him dad. I do slip sometimes, in the mist of being terrified. But I try to convince myself that this isn't normal. He doesn't deserve to be called that.
Not seeing any sign of him, I figured he was in his room. What time was it? It was dark out, but I never really know anymore. His room was downstairs, on the opposite side as the kitchen.
I snuck down the stairs, and into the kitchen. I tip-toed, scared to wake him up, though he's probably not sleeping. Turning to the cabinet, I pulled out a bowl and a glass. I fixed myself some water and pulled out a spoon. I decided to heat up left over stew from the other night. I ate in silence, standing up, so I was aware if he came out- though he never did.
After I was done, I washed and picked up all of my dishes. I tried to hurry. I wanted to get back into my own territory, where I somewhat felt safe.
"So you ate without me?" His voice made me shudder. I was shaking before I knew it. Slowly turning around, I took a deep breath. "Um, I'm sorry. I didn't know what time it was and I didn't know if you were slee-" I stopped talking when I noticed the belt folded, and gripped in his hand, ready to be used. I took a step back and he took a step forward. My back hit the countertop. "Son, you're not leaving me tomorrow. You love me."
I'm tired. I am torn and hurt in too many ways to explain. I am broken, who would take the time to fix me. Why? Him. He's the reason. Out of all my sadness, buried deep is anger. I clenched my fist.
"No." I watched his eyes open wide. "What?" He hovered over me now. "No! I don't! I don't deserve this. You say you try to help and all you do is hurt. Your hurting me!" It felt great to get it all off of my chest. I looked in his eyes, he had more hurt than anything, and I knew I shouldn't have said anything.
"I may not be able to make you stay. But I'm going to beat you senseless for speaking to me that way. I am your father." I winced. It was all I needed to hear. This was a huge mistake.
He grabbed my arm and slung me to the ground beside him. I scurried to get up but his leg swung back, and struck my side-hard. My stomach clenched, and I thought I was going to blow chunks. I was paralyzed to the ground, in pain, but mainly fear.
He yanked my shirt so my back was bare, and it bunched at my neck. He placed one foot on my leg and the other on my arms, which were over my head. Breathing hard, I struggled to get up, but failed. "You deserve this, son. You asked for it. I was only trying to HELP YOU!" His yelling became quiet as he swung the belt, that was once so tightly gripped in his hand. It struck my back, more times than I could count. One by one, my vision became blurred, and my back became filled with cuts so deep, they'd leave more scars. Just hold on. It's all I could think.
His arm still swung, but missed a couple of times, so I knew he was tired. I couldn't breathe, and was laying in a pool of sweat, tears, and blood. After two more missed swings, he stopped, walked into his room and shut the door.
My back hurt so badly, I didn't move for a while. A long while. When I did, every breath, and slightest move stung, like it was happening all over again. I couldn't stand just yet, so I crawled to the bathroom, and turned on the shower water. I kicked off my boxers, and scooted under the water. I felt each drop enter my wounds one by one. The red water swirled around me, and I laid in there until it ran clear. I turned off the water and picked up a towel off the floor. Pushing myself to sit, I bit down, forcing myself not to scream. I patted down everything and left my back wet.
It took a while, but I stood, and walked to my room. I slipped on a clean pair of shorts and laid on top of my sheets, starring at the broken glass on the floor. That glass brought back so many memories, and it finally broke. Now the flood can't drown me anymore. I'm broken, and there's only one way to stop that flood.
That's when I decided. This was it. The decision I had been contemplating for years was made. I am leaving this monster; I hope he drowns.
