Saving Him

Chapter 4

He stared at me, as if trying to read my mind.

"Well, do you, um, want to come in?" He asked me, very nervously.

It sounded like a good idea. But, his house kind of scared me.

"But.. What about.." I said, not able to go on. I didn't want to hurt his feelings.

"My dad?" He smirked. "He's passed out in his room. Don't worry, he won't be up for at least twelve hours."

I sighed. "Then, of course."

He led me through his house, seeming a little embarrassed. There were bottles upon bottles of leftover beer. Dirty clothes and cigarette buds accompanied them. The smell was horrid. It all made me want to cry. How could this poor soul go through all of this and still be this kind?

We finally reached his room. He opened the door and let me in.

Surprisingly, his room was cleaner than my room. The bed was made, books were neatly stacked on shelves, and well... There wasn't much else to the room. He had some artwork on the walls. I assumed it was his.

He walked to the closet and pulled a couple of fold up chairs out.

"Would you like to sit?" He asked, not looking me in the eye.

"Sure." I said.

We sat and I watched him carefully. His hair covered his eyes, he was sitting with his arms on his knees and he was looking down.

"So.. I um, I wanted to see if you needed anybody to talk to you." I said.

"What do you mean?" He asked me, glancing upward, but still not directly at me.

"Well, I just thought you might be a little upset about-"

"What? My mom? It's fine, really. I'm not upset." He brushes off.

"You can't be fine. This is awful. The way you're living." I tell him.

"Stop." He says, standing.

"What? You need help, Marc."

"Please, don't call me that." He says, cringing.

"What, Marc? Why not?" I ask.

"That's- that's what my mom used to call me. Nobody calls me that anymore." He tells me.

"I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything."

I stand and walk towards him.

"You know, you don't have to go through this. You can report your father and-"

"Don't." He says.

"Why won't you talk about this?"

"Because you don't know anything about my life!"

"Well, I could, if you'd tell me!"

"I don't want you to know!"

I'm about to speak up again, but I hear someone coming towards his room.

We both look at the door and see the knob turning.

I quickly look at him and step back.

The man I vaguely remember years ago stood before me. A dirty T-shirt, ripped jeans, and a beer bottle. Could he be more unoriginal?

"What's she doin' here?" He growled.

"Nothing." Marcus said, nervously.

"I was just leaving." I say, wishing he'd move away from the door.

"You think you can just have anyone you want over here at anytime you want? Are you stupid or something?" He roared.

He moved toward Marcus and away from the door.

"No, we were just talking. Go, Dakota!" He said.

I didn't know what to do. My feet seemed to be glued to the floor.

Then, the man who I know longer thought could be Marcus' dad punched Marcus in the face.

I screamed.

The man turned to look at me.

I screamed again and ran through the house and out the door.

Tears were streaming down my face. I wanted to go back and help Marcus but I just couldn't turn around. I stopped running and fell to the ground.

I was pathetic.