He was on the floor again; the metallic taste of his own blood invaded his mouth. The room was silent, betraying nothing about the obscenities that had taken place just minutes before. He raised his hand limply to his mouth and tried feebly to wipe away some of the blood staining his jaw line. His face was bruised and his hair was tangled, the massive curls intertwined with each other, closely resembling the mess he knew as his life. His cheek was throbbing, the blue mark he assumed that was already forming would quite easily be visible when he somehow made his way to school the next day.
He hadn’t meant to leave the door open; he hadn’t even known when that godforsaken dog had wiggled its way out onto the street. He wasn’t even sure how that sad excuse for a dog was even lovable, it had been a terrible creature, always barking and snapping at everyone. Yet, he had felt a strange sort of sadness creep over him when he had heard it’s vicious yelping and rushed to the door just in time to see it’s body be crushed by a speeding car. His stomach had knotted and the walls of his heart had constricted, as he saw the car skid over the dog’s mangled body. And yet as inhuman as it had seemed, the remorse of seeing his dog die hadn’t even bothered him as much as the consequences that lay ahead of him did.
His father had come home late as usual, his mother didn’t live with them anymore, his father had driven her away too. But partly because she was dead. He had called out for the dog, but hadn’t given it much thought when it didn’t come pouncing towards him.
“I hope you’ve learnt your lesson and made edible dinner tonight, Harry?” his father had laughed wickedly at his own joke, but Harry had cringed at the truth of his statement.
“Yes sir, I have.” Harry had trembled timidly.
“Right then, lets have you. Set the table, I’d like to eat now. Where’s Pongo?” His father had begun removing his coat and gloves and his eyes had darted around suspiciously, looking for his beloved dog.
“I’m not sure dad, he must’ve gone out for a bit.” Harry had ventured, knowing very well he had been treading on egg shells.
“Pongo is not a dumb dog Harry, come out with it. What the fuck have you done with my dog?” His voice had trembled with anger, his black eyes had bored into Harry’s green ones.
“I-I don’t know Dad, I swear. I-I haven’t even seen him.”
“Ah you lie, do you boy?” His father had inched closer, his fists balled up, ready to do whatever it took to forcefully pull the truth out of his lying son’s throat. His face had been mere inches from Harry’s. Though Harry was a proud six feet, he was a good three inches taller and he liked to think it made him better than his son.
“Dad please don’t hurt me, please I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to!” Harry’s voice had been infected with pain and resentment, his head had been turned away and his shoulders had been hunched, but he hadn’t dare raise his hands to shield his face. His eyes had fluttered, he had known what was coming, he had known he couldn’t hide, his arms had been bent attentively waiting for the very last moment when he could raise them and protect his face from a potential fracture.
“You motherfucker, what did you do with my dog?” He had grabbed Harry’s frail body and shaken him violently. “Where the fuck is Pongo Harry Edward Styles, you tell me now or so god help you I will pull it out of your chest with my bare hands.”
“Daddy I-I’m sorry, I really am, I-I left the door open and Pongo managed to find his way out and he ran onto the road. I’m sorry dad I didn’t even know it would happen! Please don’t hurt me Daddy I’m sorry! I’ll do anything!” Harry had been shaking with tears, his otherwise piercing green eyes had been plagued with tears and his cheeks had been stained. He had refused to look at his father’s glowering face.
“So what happened Harry, where is he now? Did you even bother looking? Look at me Styles!” His father had grabbed harry’s shaking jaw and forced him to turn his reluctant head.
“It was all so fast, he ran onto the road and.. and-“ Harry had trailed off timidly.
“And what Harry?” His father had whispered dangerously.
“He’s dead dad, he got run over.” Harry’s words had been lost in his sudden sobs, his legs had given way and he would’ve slid to the ground had his father not been clutching his dirty shirt. His eyes had dropped tragically and his hands had finally flown up to guard his face, as his tears had slipped out from between his shaking fingers.
It had come quicker and faster than Harry had expected, his father’s balled up fist had collided with Harry;s face with such force that he had slipped out of his father’s grip and fallen to the cold floor.
“You useless excuse for a son, how dare you mistreat my dog and then even stop to think you would be forgiven? How fucking dare you be so fucking irresponsible?” His father’s voice had nearly deafened Harry, his jaw had been throbbing painfully and he had felt a warm liquid seeping into his mouth.
His father had kicked Harry onto his back and watched him suffer and Harry hadn’t looked back, the pain resonating through his face had been enough to keep his eyes closed and watering.
“Get up, you useless human being. You are no longer my son, get out of my house.” Harry’s dad had yelled before delivering a resounding kick to Harry’s arm. Harry had yowled in unimaginable pain, as a shock had run through his limp body.
“Daddy please stop! I’m really sorry daddy.. I’m..” His voice had trailed off as his jaw had locked unexpectedly and begun thumping with pain again. But his dad had not faltered even once, as his hand had curled around harry’s shirt and pulled him up.
“You leave now, you filthy child and never return.” His father had disguised the pretence of a threat in his voice, and Harry had known his threats were no joke.
His father had shoved him in the chest and he had gone tumbling onto the floor again. His father had then turned on his heel and disappeared into his room, banging the door as loud as he possibly could behind him.
And that’s where Harry had remained, the metallic taste of his own blood invading his mouth in a silent room where nothing betrayed the obscenities of the last few minutes.
He hadn’t had the energy to lift himself off the ground yet, but he knew what he was going to do. His mind was reverberating with vile thoughts and wishes as he began to gather enough courage to lift his throbbing head. His hand stretched out slowly as he tried to push his body up. After what seemed like years he was finally leaning weakly against the wall, his heart clamoring desperately in his hollow chest. He made his way to the tiny room he knew as his. He limped to the other side and opened a chest of drawers and began to litter the room with garments as he rummaged through the pile, looking for the solution to his problems.
Harry sighed deeply and slipped the paper littered with words under his father’s door and then trudged back to his room. The lights were off, and he knew the darkness was what would help.
He sighed and lifted the heavy gun to his mouth, an additional metallic taste aside from his blood. He secured the gun between his lips and closed his eyes, his shaking finger fondling the trigger.
The resounding gunshot sent him reeling out of his chair, his hand clutched his heart as if to calm it as he sat brooding in his large room over the death of his precious dog.
“Harry, what was that?” he called nervously and began to stride towards the door. Already jumping to conclusions about what his silly son was upto.
As he neared the door his eyes were distracted by the piece of paper lying on the ground. He picked it up, cursing himself for not securing his bills and opened it to check its importance.
The words collided with his eyes harshly as he recognized his son’s loopy hand writing, his brain began to connect the dots as his eyes skimmed over the letters.
“I had hoped to make you proud daddy, but it’s alright. Maybe in another lifetime I will.
I love you, I really do and that’s why I’m doing as you asked, I’m leaving dad. And I promise I’ll never come back.”
