Omni Denique

Chapter 1

He studied the cell phone, noticing how small it felt in his hand. He looked through his contacts, warmly remembering each person. His number of friends had grown throughout the years. Some of his friends had stuck with him through the past few months; others had chosen to pretend they never knew him. He prepared himself for the next call he was about to make. He dialed the number, but just when he was about to press call; he hesitated, and the phone fell from his shaky fingers. The plastic fell off, ejecting the battery onto the floor. He stared at it. He knew his phone wasn't broken; he could never afford anything fancy and fragile as an iPhone. A few tears welled up in his eyes, but he quickly brushed them away. Why was he having such a hard time making the call? No one would pick up anyway.

His eyes left the phone as he lay back on his bed and his head sunk into the plush pillow. He stared out the window into his backyard. The flowers were blooming and the birdhouse his dad set up last year was bustling with sparrows, cardinals, robins, and even a purple martin, which brought a tinge of pain as a memory stirred in his head. He spun quickly around in his bed to avoid the feelings associated with the backyard and chose instead to stare at his bookcases. They were almost as tall as the ceiling and contained mostly books he had enjoyed as a child including adventure stories, fantasies, historical fiction, and mysteries. He noticed some of the pictures of his past baseball teams and chuckled as he remembered the dreaded picture days when his parents would drag him to the gym. He hated sitting through the godawful photoshoot. His eyes drifted to the coach in the team picture.

He remembered that coach very well. That coach was the one who had encouraged and mentored him as a young player. It was on that team that he realized that with enough determination and hard work, he could accomplish his goals. These thoughts spurred on many more good memories. He thought of how his father had been there for him to talk to when he felt hopeless and dejected. How his father had driven him to countless baseball practices and even bought him a new mitt and bat before every season.

"Richard, I'm home!" he heard his mom yell from the other room. "Help me with these goddamn groceries!" Suddenly his mind twisted.

"Help yourself! I have homework to do," he yelled back. His response was met with silence. He continued laying on his bed, lost in thought. He heard footsteps coming towards his room.

"Richard, I'm serious, get in here this instant!"

Richard pulled the covers over his head and closed his eyes, curling into a ball. The door slammed into the wall as it was shoved forcefully open.

"You good for nothing..." his mom muttered, tripping over a pile of dirty clothes as she stepped through the doorway. "I told you to clean up this craphole. It looks like a monkey lives here," she yelled as she ripped the blanket off of Richard. "Get up!"

Richard stared at the wall, continuing to avoid her eyes.

"NOW!" she yelled.

Richard sprung up and scurried out of the room towards the car outside. His face was flushed. He had wanted to talk back to her, but he chose not to this time. Something was holding him back from arguing; it was unusual. He felt the urges deep within his body to fight back, itching to get out as he continued to push them back again and again. His sneakers crunched on the semi-frozen grass as he shuffled to the car to get some groceries. He caught a glimpse of his face in the window of the van. He saw tears forming and quickly turned away, concentrating on his feet as he grabbed the handles of a few bags of groceries and stumbled back to the house. He placed the bags in the kitchen on the table and was about to leave the room when he heard a high-pitched shriek.

"Richard, come back here! You're not done," his mom exclaimed.

He groaned and rolled his eyes as he slowly turned around to return to the kitchen. "Come on, Mom, give me a break."