Old Places, New People || Phan

1-Dan's P.O.V

"Which famous historical author wrote 'Give every man thy ear, but few thy voice?'" Mrs. Landry's eyes snapped towards me as I confidently raised my hand. "Dan?" I stood and cleared my throat a bit. "William Shakespeare, one of the greatest poets of our history." Mrs. Landry smiled at me and turned back to the board. "Indeed, you are correct Mr. Howell." I smiled before sitting back down in the hard plastic chair of my desk. I tuned out the rest of Mrs. Landry's words, scribbling on my desk with a pen. When the final bell rang to go home, I slowly stood and slung my backpack over my shoulder. I pretended to be fiddling with my purple knit jumper as I saw someone approach me out of my peripheral vision. "Hey Dan, you want to go hang out and get some shakes later? Stacey's going to be there." I turned to stand face to face with PJ, a friendly and knowing smile stretched across his face. "Peej, I would love to, but I have to get home. I-I have a lot of homework to do." I contorted my face into what I hoped was a convincing smile. "Okay, tomorrow then?" PJ asked. I swallowed, my mouth dry. "Sure, as long as I don't have homework." My palms became clammy with nervousness. PJ adjusted his sweater, still smiling up at me with that idiotic grin. "Okay then, sounds great! See you later Dan!" He tapped my fist with his and walked out the door. I released the breath I hadn't realized I was holding, tightening my grip on the hem of my jumper. I slowly walked out the door of the brick building which had become my prison, as well as my safe haven. Time to go home.
***
When I arrived at my house, I sat on the porch for a while, trying to regulate my breathing. I couldn't have a panic attack before I walked in, He would notice I had been crying. When I had finally achieved a half calm state, I opened the door. The smell hit me instantly. Alcohol. I timidly walked inside, my hands clamped firmly to the hem of my sweater. My palms were clammy, and my breathing had become fast paced. As I was debating whether I should run or not, someone grabbed me from behind. "Why did you come home boy?" I whimpered pitifully in the grasp of my father. "ANSWER ME!" He screamed. I felt tears start to well up in my eyes. "I-I thought, m-maybe-" My father yanked my head back and pressed a knife to my throat. "You thought nothing. YOU'RE WORTHLESS!" I went limp in my father's hands for a moment, just to punch him in the throat. He released me, coughing and sucking in air. I quickly darted out the door, grabbing the knife that had clattered to the floor. My feet carried me down the steps and around the house. Just as I darted into the forest, my father's screams filled the air. "I'LL FIND YOU BOY, AND YOU'LL BE SORRY WHEN I DO!"
***
After running for what seemed like miles, I collapsed on the ground. My breathing was heavy as I choked back violent sobs. I had thought that maybe for once, just once, my dad wouldn't be drunk. I then realized that my wish would never come true. As I began to cry harder, I stood, my legs wobbly. I trudged through the underbrush, my tears streaming down my face. I remembered this path well, how could I forget it. As I trampled over one last patch of overgrown weeds, I saw it. The tree. It had become "my place" over the past few months. My place where I could cry, think, and not be threatened. The special safe haven consisted of a large sturdy oak tree with a hollow trunk. Vines secured the entrance to keep animals out. The oak tree was the only tree in this small secluded glade, save for one small stump nearby. As a child, my mum used to bring me here...before the accident. I sniffled, tears still trailing paths down my face. I started towards the tree, when all of a sudden, a noise pierced the soundless blanket that lay over the glade. I froze, my senses going into a hyper-alert state. I retreated farther back into the treeline. Suddenly, I caught a glimpse of what it was that had made the noise, or rather who. It was a boy.