Waterboy

Prologue

"It's all gone."
"Huh?" I ask. "What's gone?"
Ow. I feel the sting of a slap on my right cheek.
"Don't question me, boy!" my father spits in my face. He's been taking care of me since I was three. That was when my mom died.
My mom was the sweetest person. She had beautiful, flowing blonde hair and her job always paid well. She was almost never home, but she kept food on the table.
But back in 2003, she got breast cancer. I'll never forget her last words to me and the whole world.
"Keep an eye on your father for me."
Those words have stuck with me to this day, but I still haven't done it. Now father keeps an eye on me rather. A big, glaring, evil eye.
I do the cooking, the cleaning. Bump something? Hit. Crumb left on the floor? Hit. You get the idea.
I go to school at an old, almost bankrupt elementary school. I'm 9 now. I have rustled black hair and a big gash on my left upper arm from my father. I wear old grayed clothes and no shoes.
"Well, what are you waiting for? Get more ice from upstairs!!!" My father also makes me get all the equipment for his "experiments".
They're more like pouring vomit into water. Today he's attempting to make dry ice by sucking moisture out of ice cubes with salt water. It makes no sense.
I sprint upstairs, past the huge cauldron of saltwater, and up to dad's giant freezer. I grab a bag of ice almost as tall as me and make my way downstairs.
"Whoa!" I yell as I topple down the stairs. The ice blocked my vision and I tripped. The tie came off of the bag and ice flew everywhere.
"YOU IMBACILE!!!"
My father gets mad when I spill things.
"You... you useless piece of crap! Clean this up THIS INSTANT!!"
        "What should I use?" I ask sheepishly.
        "I said no questions! A broom, idiot!"
        I pull the short broom from the wall and begin to sweep. I worked for a while when I looked around and saw a lone ice cube under a desk, the one with the saltwater cauldron on top.
        I reached the broom under to sweep out the ice cube before it melted. Sometimes, like now, I try to turn chores into a game. It helps me cope with my life.
        My arm bumped the metal bottom of the desk. I can't reach the cube. I retract my arm and stand up.
        "Ouch," I cringe as my head hits the large cauldron of water. The whole world shakes as the water pours out and the almost-empty cauldron topples to the floor.
        The salt water flies through the air and splashes right on my head.
        "AAAAAAAAHHH!!!!!!" I scream at the top of my lungs. The salt burns my eyes and all my cuts, especially the large one on my arm.
        In my mind, two words pop up. Oh god.