Disconnected

Chapter One - Coming Home

Rain falls carelessly from the dark night sky drenching the Earth below; wind slashes out pushing anything in its way down; and lighting shoots through the sky giving off an occasional burst of light making the sky visible; but his calls for help are silent to everyone around him. So he thought.

Strong waves rush toward the surface of the soft sand rinsing off Dan's cold, sandy feet. He walks forward, straight into the shivering ocean. The water goes up to to his knees. When a powerful wave charges at him pushing him over, icy water covers most of his body which makes him feel numb. Dan sits there for a long time thinking to himself, I could end my life here. But he doesn't, instead he gets up from the cold liquid and heads back to his hotel room.

Dan's pov
Sand whips around in the wind creating what looks like a mini sand storm. When I finally arrives back at the hotel room I share with my parents and sister (because I'm only 16) I slip out of my soaking jumper and skinny jeans to put on my pjs. As soon as I shut my heavy eyes, I'm asleep.

The next morning is the day we leave Jamaica. It was a little upsetting considering everyone was so nice, and most of all I don't have to worry about my abusive parents because they were to worried to get caught here. But when I get home, my parents won't care about my cries for help or their arguments or their son giving away the secret. They know I don't have the courage to speak out for myself. I doubt anyone would care in the first place.

The airplane ride went by seemingly fast. The entire time I was on plane I was either imagining a world without my parents or daydreaming about death. Not the healthiest things to think about when you're depressed, but I didn't care. I've been this way for so long, the only other time I remember being happy was when I was four. My mother took my sister, Emma, and I out for icecream right before my father started drinking. Right after that day my father pushed me around, would throw things at me, treat me like his slave, and many oher terrible things. So many times I've tried to end this torture, they never let me. My parents always found me. Why wouldn't they let me die? I'm not sure, probably so they can use me. My parents loved to see me suffer.

Once the plane landed my thoughts were cut off by my father's raspy voice. "We're leaving, come on."

We were home about an hour or two later. Fear rushed through me as I stepped foot into the apartment building, any second now my father would lash out. Surprisingly, I walked all the way to my room without my father yelling at me.

My room wasn't large at any means, but it was something. It was a pace to hide in. I slept on the floor and had a tiny night stand with all my clothes. Luckily, I also had an outlet to charge my mp3 player. My mother got me it before she got lost in a black whole of nothingness. This was about three years ago. Sometimes I genuinely wonder what she's thinking when she looks at her children being abused.

I drop my suitcase on the floor and put my clothes away. It didn't take much time, all I had brought were swim trunks, underwear, socks, my one pair of pjs, a pair of skinny jeans, and two shirts. After I finished, I heard my mother call us to dinner.

She cooked spaghetti, not much but enough for everyone. My plate had enough noodles on the plate that you could count them without moving any. There were literally ten. At least my father had food, if he didn't have double the amount that everyone else had he got angry. Maybe because he wanted to feel like a king and have all of us be his slaves. I'm not sure.

"How is it?" Mother asked my father.

"I'll tell you what, it's not bad but next time order dinner. It's better that way," Sadly, that was him being as kind as he's ever been in 12; and that's saying a lot!

He turns to me and murmurs, "Why do I have such an idget as a son?"
This is how he always is, insulting me any chance he gets. I remember very clearly the first time he insulted me, it was right before he pushed me into a lake. It was in the middle of winter and there was a fresh glaze of ice. My mother wasn't gone from reality then, she helped me out and questioned my father of his doing. He played it off like it was an accident. I was the only one that could see through his mask at the beginning. I tried to tell mother but she always brushed it off like it never happen.

Father finished his dinner and sat up, "F*g" he huffed under his breath. It didn't take long for everyone to finish eating, and when they were I cleaned up after them. Emma immediately headed to her room, she was traumatized at a young age. Now she is terrified of our father and mother. I make sure they don't hurt her though, I didn't mind it too much. She was my sister and I don't want her to suffer what I'm going through.

"Hurry up!" My Father groaned impatiently holding a wine bottle in his right hand. He took a swig waiting for me to finish drying the last of the dishes. "Does it really take you that long to put away some plates?"

In my head I was saying then do it yourself old man, but out loud I was saying "Sorry," very quietly. I quickly put the last dishes into their rightful place.

"Took you long enough, now get out of my fluffing way!" He pushes me to the floor. "Fa***t," he hollers at me before kicking me in the side. My Father then chugs the rest of his wine.

I don't say a thing as I lift my self off the chilly floor. Before I rise to my feet, he slashes the wine bottle to my head. In just enough time I lift my arm up for protection of the shattering glass. It breaks into thousands of miniscule glass daggers that pierce through my skin. Thick red blood drips down my arm and falls like a light rain shower to the shiny tile. Emma walks in and instantaneously stops in her tracks with eyes full of fear.

"Get out of my fluffing way, fa***t!" He grabs a champaign bottle, opens it, and drinks his 'problems' away. He's always said I was his biggest problem, that I was a huge disappointed and wanted me gone. I wanted to escape him. I wanted to escape Earth. Not just Earth, the entire Universe, no. The galaxy, no. All of existence, no. Well, everything! I want life to end!