Helpline ~ Shoey

Chapter 29

Chapter 29

 ~Shane's POV~

 I rubbed my eyes as the morning sun leaked through my curtains onto face. It was silent. Eerily silent in fact. I couldn't hear the TV downstairs, or my father’s drunken snores or yells. No sound of a fist hitting skin, no crying? What was happening?

 I glanced over at my desk. I usually leave my phone on there in the night, but it's gone? I sat up, slowly scanning the room in case it got misplaced. Failing to find it, I assumed it was in the kitchen from last or something.

 Making sure not to wake Jerid in the bed next to me, I tiptoed out of the room. It was still silent out here. Slowly creeping downstairs, I hoped I wouldn't walk into anyone downstairs. I didn't even know what time it was.

 

 As I reached the bottom of the stairs, my heart stopped. My dad was right there. Albeit, he has his back to me and didn't even notice I was standing there, but he was still there. Hunched over, as if reading. But he was silent. I came to the conclusion that I could creep behind him, and make it to the kitchen without him even noticing.

 I went along with my plan. Each step was silent, well thought out, and perfectly executed. I was almost at the doorway to the kitchen, I was almost there. He hadn't even noticed!

 "Who's Joey?"

 My heart fell into my stomach. No. The thing he's reading, it's my phone. I thought I was about to puke. If he's made his way into my texts, he'll know everything. Absolutely everything. I could feel the beads of sweat falling down my forehead in fear.

 "I said, who's Joey?" He barked again, pulling me from my thoughts. I slowly turned on the spot to face him. He was standing now, right in front of me. My phone in one hand and a bottle if Tequila in the other.

 "My friend" I said in a quiver. I didn't want to answer. I didn't want to give him any acknowledgement. I just wanted to be free of this hatred.

 "Looks like more than a friend to me?" He snarled, swaying a bit as he struggled to stay up. He held his head down to me, his mouth in front of me. The stench of booze tearing into my sinuses. I didn't answer him. "Are you gay, little boy?" He spat in my face. "ANSWER ME!" He yelled.

 "Yes" I said, very faintly. That was all it took. His hand was around my throat, his grip getting increasingly tighter.

 "No son of mine will be gay!" He growled, red faced and ready for the days beatings to start. He gritted his teeth, literally growling as he threw me onto the ground. I held in my winces if pain, catching my breath.

 He grabbed onto my arms, tightly. A foot was on my chest, and he tried to physically pull my arms out of their sockets. I yelled out in pain as I thought my arms were going to snap. To silence me, he stomped on my face angrily with his foot. I felt a slight snap.