Random Short Stories

Safe

Smack.

"Worthless."

Punch.

"Shit."

I lay on the floor with my arms covering my head. I wait for the kick, but it never comes. Looking up I see my brother has shoved my dad to the floor.

I should probably explain what is happening right now. To do that we are gonna have to go back in time to the day my, and my brother's, life went to shit.

Rewind to ages 6 and 4:

May 13, 2001. My mom just died in the hospital. She was hit by a drunk driver on her way to pick me and my brother up from school. We were going to go out for ice cream for my birthday.

We waited at the school until 7:30. My teacher called my house until my dad finally picked up. He came and got us. We went home and I had expected to see mom there waiting for us. To take us out for ice cream like she had promised.

She wasn't there. She would never be there again.

The hardest part wasn't finding out myself; it was explaining it to my 4 year old brother. My dad wouldn't even look at us. We remind him of her too much.

Ages 10 and 8:

I saw it coming from a mile away. Time and time again dad had told us not to leave our bags on the floor. Oliver never was very good at listening.

Dad screamed at him. Oli was terrified. I wanted to step in, to say something. But what could I do? I was only 10.

The first sign was the clenched fist. I had reacted immediately. As Dad raised his hand to hit Oliver, I stepped in the way. Taking the blow right to the side of the head. It knocked me to the floor. I let out a small screech. Dad then placed a hefty kick to my side.

"Don't cry, you're not a baby." He said. He sits in his lazy boy chair and leans back.

"Go get me a beer, boy." Oli had crouched down to help me. I pushed him away and tell him to do as dad says.

Ages 11 and 9:

"Why do you always let Dad hit you and not me?" Oliver asked.

"Because its my job to keep you safe. I'm bigger, I can take it." I answered him.

"One day, when I'm big. I'm gonna hit Dad so hard he won't be able to hit you anymore." Oliver promised. I just hugged him to my side and smiled.

"One day, Oli, one day."

Back to the Present: Ages 18 and 16:

I get off of the floor and watch as my brother stand over our dad. He was breathing heavily. Dad was looking up at him with a mixture anger and a slight hint of wariness. I place my hand on Oliver's shoulder. He turns to me and smiles slightly.

We leave that day. I had been saving money since I was 11 years old. All these years, just waiting until I could leave and take Oli with me.

"Avery, where are we gonna go?" Oliver asks.

"I made a friend at the club," I explain, "She says we can stay with her until we can get on our feet."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We move in with my friend form the club- where my brother and I work- Bailey is her name. She is really nice. She gave us her spare bedroom and she only asks us to pay for food.

My brother and I have been out of the house for almost a year. My birthday is next month. We haven't heard from or seen Dad in a while. For about a month he would show up a the club and try to talk to us. He eventually left us alone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Today I was busting tables at the club. It's not a very big place; only about twenty tables with a little dance floor. Its Sunday, so we only have small crowd. Oliver is part of security.

It's around 11 when he walks in the door. He was drunk off his ass, I could tell. My entire life I had watched that swayed walk. Listened to him slur out insults about Oliver and myself.

My dad stood there. No, not Dad, he lost that title a long time ago. He looked directly at me and started to stomp forward. I stood still and watched him approach. I refuse to show fear.

"You little fuck up," he spits, "It's your fault she's gone."

He raises his hand and sends a punch directly to my left cheek. I lean on a table, refraining from falling to the floor. Suddenly, I hear a thud.

I look up to see my brother straddling our father. He is flinging punch after punch at his face. Father has stopped fighting back. He lays there limp on the floor. I spit out some blood from my mouth before saying,

"Oliver." Only raising my voice a little. He stops and removes himself from our father. He shakes blood from his hand and walks over to me calmly. He raises his hand to my cheek and strokes the bruise that I can feel forming.

I hear sirens pull into the parking lot of the club. The next thing I know we are being taken away in the back of a cop car.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The entire time to the station and talking to the police, Oliver and I gripped each other's hands. His left hand in my right. After all these years he was finally gone. He was never gonna hurt us again.

Oliver was moved over into my custody. I don't know if that is really a thing that can happen, but I didn't ask. I told them that there was no way we were ever going to be separated. I'm just glad they understood.

As we walked out of the station Oliver said this,

"I told you." I look at hi confused.

"I promised that one day I was gonna hit him so hard he would never hit you again, " Oli explained, "I did it, Avery. We're finally safe." I dropped Oliver's hand and pulled him into a hug.

We are finally safe.