Chapter Two
James
Screwed. That’s what I am. I am screwed. My dads car is in the driveway and it’s too early for him to be passed out. I’m dead. All because some idiot teacher couldn’t wait until tomorrow to make me stay behind. Fuck.
I force myself to take a deep breath and walk into the house. Theres silence. I’m terrified.
“You’re late.” The growl comes before I see him. “Useless prick. Hell, you’re worse than your mother was.” His fist connects with my gut “Stand up straight boy.” I do what I’m told, fists clenched at my sides.
“Don’t talk about mom like that.” I growl.
“What did you just say?” He heard me loud and clear. He was giving me a chance to rethink my mouth though. I don’t take it.
“You heard me you old drunk.”
“You ungrateful little..!” He raises his hand, about to hit me when he thinks of something better and lets his arm rest at his side. “Shirt off.” He barks, going for the belt hanging by the door. I gulp a little and do what he says. I was going to get hit either way but at least this way he wouldn’t screw up a good shirt.
The first few strikes are always the worst. He slurs insults and harsh words as the smack against my back gets louder and louder as he hits harder and harder. Eventually, it’s over. He leaves with a final slurred insult and I’m alone in the quite hall. I force myself to get upstairs, using the wall as a crutch. When I get in my room and shut the door, I fall to my knees, shaking from the pain.
Get up, have a shower. Get up. Shower. Up. Shower. I repeat to myself silently until I finally stand from the floor and walk to the bathroom, throwing my shirt on the bed. The water burns on my back but I grit my teeth and get through it. Like always. I get out a few minutes later and get dressed in the same clothes as before. Grabbing my six-shot revolver from my dresser and heading out. I think I’m home free until my dad catches me at the door.
“Where do you think you’re going?” He demands, his voice more slurred then before and a new drink in his hand.
“None of your business.” I growl.
“I’m your dad. Everything you do is my business.” He says as he lights a cigarette. I glare at him and try not to inhale the smoke that fills the room.
“You stopped being my dad a long time ago.” I growl. “Now you’re just the bastard I live with.” He keeps calm, taking a long inhale on his cigarette. He exhales in my face and I only clench my teeth. He punches in my gut, knocking the breath out of me. “Don’t talk to me like that you ungrateful prick.”
He’s raising his fist again when I pull out my gun from the waistband of my jeans and pointed it at him. “Punch me again.” I growl.
“You wouldn’t shoot.” He says confidently, trying to call my nonexistent bluff. To prove my point, I pull the hammer back, the gun making a small click.
“Try me.” I say with a cocky tone and a smirk of my lips. He wouldn’t let me get away with that normally but after looking in my eyes for a long moment he steps back.
“Fine then. Leave. Get the hell out. And don’t come back crying to me. In fact, why don’t you go see you’re weak bitch mother?” He sneers. Without blinking I fire off the loaded shot into his leg. The only sound was a click then a yell as I walked out of the dingy door, hopefully to never come back.
The park was only a half an hour walk away. I ran and made it in just under 20 minutes. Felt like that at least. I walk up to the tree. The large oak by the swings. It had survived hurricanes and some pretty brutal storms. Couples names where carved into the bark. Somewhere crossed out then redone after break ups. A few where married couples now. One was a mother and a son. My mother and her son; me. This was our tree. Under the shade the branches gave the ground was a small cross. Across it was my mother’s name. She wanted to be buried there but they couldn’t let her because it’s public property. So they let us put a marker under it instead. The park also agreed to let me raise enough money so we could put a bench in with her name on it but after I got the money, my dad found it and wasted it on drugs and alcohol. I will never forgive him for that.
I trace over the engraved names on the tree, stopping on hers. I smiled weakly and started to wonder if this plan wasn’t the best.
Then I saw it.
Emily. The dark enragement in the bark made my blood run cold. The name of the girl I dated for months, a year really. A year of bliss before that night.
Shoving back memories, I feel the heavy metal gun in my hand.
It’s the right choice.
I take a deep breath and look down at my mothers cross. “See you soon, Mom.” I mummer, pressing the cold metal to under my chin and pulling back the hammer. Keeping my eyes wide open and fixed on the swing I use to love, I let my finger curl around the harsh metal trigger.
