Forgotten Past

Chapter Two

Aiden Woods

I could feel his stare on me all day. What is his problem? Does he hate me that much? I mean, why doesn't he just confront me about it? Maybe he is waiting for the right time. I have to be ready for that. I get in my truck and start to head home. I don't want my dad to be mad at me for being late.

I arrive at my new house, that isn't much better than the last one. It was a small, one-story house, that had only one bedroom and one bathroom. That meant that I had to sleep on the couch. I didn't really like sleeping on the couch because that meant I wouldn't be able to lock my doors. My dad comes home all the time, drunk, and he beats me, yelling at me to tell him where my mom is. I don't know why he keeps asking me because I don't have any memory of what she looks like or ever meeting her, apart from my birth. Apparently, she left my dad for some other guy and is now happily married with a few kids of her own. Sometimes, I get sad thinking about why she didn't take me with her. Leaving me with my dad was not a good choice. He hates me because I look too much like my mother. That is not my fault now, is it?

I sit on the couch, thinking about today. I know that Jackson hates me and all, but I couldn't help but feel attracted to him. He was very handsome. I wish he didn't hate me. We would be good friends, maybe even more. He has a girlfriend! Stop thinking about a guy you will never have! I thought to myself. Maybe the girlfriend is just a cover up? I really need to stop thinking about this guy and start looking for a job. I get up and walk into the kitchen, where my dad usually reads the newspaper. He may be an alcoholic, but he does normal dad stuff, too. I start looking at the paper, hoping to find a job that will help me pay all the bills that I have to pay for this house.

As I'm looking around in the newspaper, my father walks in. He looked terrible and smelled worse. He sat down across from me at the table and started crying into his arms.

"Dad? Why are you crying? Are you okay? Dad...?" I moved a seat closer to him. I wrapped my arm around him.

"Why... why did she leave me? I loved her so much. I thought she loved me..." Just him talking about my mother made me want to cry. I felt a tear slip out of my right eye.

"I don't know, dad. I think she loved you very much. Come on, let's get you to bed. You probably have a headache." I put his arm around my shoulder and walked him into his room and set him on his bed. He fell asleep instantly. I grabbed his blanket and pulled it up to his head. I kissed his forehead, before walking out the door, but before I leave, I stop at the door frame.

"I love you, dad." With that, I walk out the door. He really needs to stop drinking.

I grab the newspaper and my keys and head out the door. I found a job that I'm familiar with. I drive to the diner and walk up to the front counter. I see many people that I've seen at school here. I don't care, though. It's not like I'm going to talk to them.

I wait for the woman behind the counter to notice me. She had a white dress on with a simple black hat. When she notices me, she walks up to me and asks what I need.

"I'm here for the job I saw in the newspaper." She nods her head and walks back to the door behind her. She comes back out and asks me to follow her. I do and I find myself standing in the room that she had just come out of. There is a man sitting behind the desk, that I'm guessing is the manager. He was a middle aged man, around his forties. He had a big bald spot on the top of his head, leaving hair only on the side. I couldn't see below his shoulders because of the desk, but I could tell that he had a white suit on, that matched the ladies dress from before.

"Sir, I wanted to get this job in the newspaper." I show him the newspaper and he smiles at me.

"Have you been a waiter before?" I nod. "Okay, then you can start tomorrow. If that's alright with you." I nod excitedly. I grab my things, before walking out the door and eventually out the diner. He seemed nice, I'm going to like working there.

I get home and see my dad sitting in his chair, watching TV. I step in front of the TV to get his attention.

"Dad? I got a job. I start tomorrow." I notice that there is a lot of beer bottles sitting beside him. He glares at me angrily, probably telling me to move with his eyes, but I needed to tell him this. I just stood there.

"Aiden. I'm watching TV, get out of my way." He slurred.

"Dad, I'm just telling you that I got a job, so we don't have to worry about the bill's anymore." He stands up and walks closer to me. I wait for him to answer, but instead, I'm greeted with his fist. I fall backward from the force of the hit. I instantly grab my face. It's going to bruise, but it's not broken. I try to stand up, so I can run away, only to be kicked in the stomach, causing me to fall back down. I curl up into a ball as he kicks and punches me repeatedly. Soon, he stops. He leans down and looks me in the eye. I have to fight back the tears.

"Stay out of my way. Got it?" He demands. I try to open my swollen eyes.

"Y-yes, sir." My voice was rasped.

"Now get out of my house!" He yelled in my ear, making me squint my eyes. I slowly get onto my feet. I limp out the door and off to somewhere else. He slams the door once I'm out. I go to my truck and look at my reflection in the window. Both of my eyes are bruised, along with a bruised left cheek. My shirt is ripped in the middle from where he kicked me. I fix my hair and limp down the street, not knowing where I was heading.

The farther I get away from my house, the larger the houses get. My house was the smallest one I've seen so far. It was all I could afford. I had no idea why my dad wanted to move, but he did, so I did as he said so I didn't get beat.

This usually happens once a week. Sometimes my bruises are healed by then, but some aren't, only making it hurt even more.

I take in my surroundings and notice that I'm in front of a giant, white house. Two stories. The front lawn was perfect and green, while mine was ugly and brown. They had a small, white fence surrounding the house, apart from the small, gray gate in the middle. There was a walkway from the gate to the front door. Rock pathway. The door was bright red. Around the door was two green bushes with red roses in them.

While I'm admiring the house and it's front lawn, I don't notice someone calling my name. I look up and see Noah.

"Aiden! Are you alright?" He runs from the front door and out the small gray gate, to me. He grabs my shoulders and looks me in the eyes. My eyes slowly start to fall, everything goes black and the last thing I hear is his name.

"Jackson! Come, quick! It's Aiden!"

~

I slowly open my eyes and see two figures in the room. One is pacing the room and the other has his head in the palm of his hands. I clear my throat to get their attention. The both instantly looks at me and run to my side.

"Aiden. Are you okay? What happened? Who did this to you?" If I told them then my dad would be mad at me for telling them. I need to make an excuse for why I am all bruised up.

"I fell." Lame. They are never going to believe that.

"There is no way you got all these bruises from falling," Noah said quickly. Jackson looked me in the eyes. His eyes were full of worry. He can't be worried about me, I have only known him a day.

"I can't tell you," I whispered. I did not want another beating, especially since I had just gotten one.

"Please." He whispered back. I felt a tear fall down my swollen face. Why did he care so much? He didn't even know me. I was nothing to him. He wouldn't do anything if I told him what happened anyway. He would probably laugh at the situation that I got myself into. I couldn't tell him, especially with Noah around, they would tell everyone at school how weak I was. How I couldn't even fight back my father.

"Please. I won't tell anyone. I just need to find ou, so I can put a stop to it." He said again. Should I tell him? Maybe, he will get rid of my dad for good. I love my dad and all, but he should know that drinking and taking his anger out me, is not how to handle his grief. He should be over it. It happened over seventeen years ago.

"Promise?" I asked, raising my voice a little higher. He smiled and nodded. I looked up at Noah, who was nodding, too.

"Promise." I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. When I opened them, I was ready to say those two words.

"My father."