Angel Boy

Surprise.

   I awoke the next morning to an empty house. No surprise. 

   Slowly walking to the bathroom, my face turned into a grimace when my eyes locked onto the blue-purple bruise on my left cheek. Reaching a steady hand up, I gingerly touched the bruised flesh. A dull throbbing pain arose, making my hand pull away and caused my jaw to lock in pain. 

   Sighing, I stripped out of my clothes from yesterday. I didn’t bother changing when I reached my room. Instead, I smoked the rest of my pack of cigarettes and let the tears silently fall down my cheeks. My heart had felt empty, cold. Like it was missing something. That something: I couldn’t tell what it was.

   Letting the sizzling water cascade down my back, my forehead leaned against the sleek tiled shower walls. My eyes closed. I could feel the dark circles under my eyes as I racked my brain for an excuse for the bruise on my face. In the end, I decided I got drunk and fell down the stairs. It would also explain my slightly swollen wrist.

   Getting dressed in an old band tee and ripped jeans, I grabbed my jacket and a new pack of cigarettes. I walked down the long hall, passing pictures of what use to be a happy family. The mother’s eyes weren’t dull and lifeless. She had slight laugh-lines near her eyes, her face glowed a healthy tan color. The father was smiling, showing his white, perfect teeth. But now, his teeth were slightly yellowed, bleached white every month. His hair streaked with gray, showing the stress he was constantly put under. The picture didn’t show how the father drank to forget. The daughter, placed right in the middle of the two, looked happy. So innocent. Totally oblivious of the way her life would turn out. Looking at her, no one would think she would grow to a delinquent on society. She had a bright future in front of her. 

   My jaw locked, my eyes tearing away from the picture. My legs sped their pace, jogging down the stairs and into the foyer. Making my way to the kitchen, I grabbed an apple, sinking my teeth into its red, juicy skin. Sweetness ran over my tongue as I chewed. 

   Something on the counter caught my eyes. A metal key glistened in the bright kitchen’s light, a yellow piece of paper placed next to it. I skimmed over the note. 

Tyde, 

Sorry for yesterday. Enjoy your new gift.

William Summers.

   He didn’t even write father at the end. He didn’t want that tittle. I crumbled the note into a ball, taking out the black lighter from my pocket. Flicking it to life, the hot flame came in contact with the paper. I held it until the flames started to lick at the tips of my fingers, then I dropped it into the sink. I grabbed the keys, shoved my shoes on, tossed my book bag over my shoulder, and left the house.

   Sitting in the driveway, was a sleek, black Suzki Hayabusa 2013. Without second guessing, or thinking about own safety, I threw a leg over the motorcycle and twisted the key which turned the mean bike to life. I revved the engine, kicking up the kick-stand. 

   Without a helmet or anything to keep me safe, I zoomed out of the driveway, creating black skid marks on the spotless concrete. Burnt rubber met my nose. Adrenaline pumped through my veins as the wind slapped against my face.

   And if I so happened to be killed on my way to school, so be it.

Pulling into the school’s parking lot, I noticed more--expensive--cars parked in the far back. The Birds were here to stay. 

   At the loud sound of my bike, heads turned to look at me. Eyes widened, whispers started flowing around. Parking next to Reinhart’s truck, I killed the engine of the motor. Fixing my hair, the boys swarmed around me.