BRYSON
"Fuck you." I spat.
"Who do you think you are cursing at like that young man?". He raged with anger as he stepped closer to me with every deep breathe I took to calm myself down.
"Come closer and watch me call 911 on your ass!". I threatened as I pulled my phone out, waving it in his face.
"I dare you! Matter of fact get out my motherfuckin' house!". He screamed.
I ran upstairs as fast as I could to grab everything I could. I roughly pull my book-bag from underneath my bed and stuffed it with as many pieces of clothing as I could.
I quickly grabbed my laptop, headphones and my phone before running outside.
I just got kicked out of my own house by my own father who was so deeply drowning in the taste of alcohol that he didn't realize he just cut off the only person that he could've called his own.
My mom died when I was four years old and me being the only child, I was left to live with him alone. He used to be a great father, husband, brother and son when she was living. After her death, he spiraled downwards into a gaping hole slowly. Everyone cut off contact with him since they just considered him a lazy drunkard.
He tried to fill the void my mom left with alcohol.
My father never brought another woman around me or in this house. The love he possessed for her was some sort of blessing when she was here but quickly turned into a life long curse for me.
He started drinking not long after we watched her be lowered into the ground. My father's drinking got to the point where he didn't realize I was his son.
He verbally abused me; blaming me for taking her away from him as if he somehow saw the vision of God within me. This happened for who knows how long before I was conscious enough to register what truly was going on.
Being almost seventeen now, I was basically raised by myself and occasionally my aunt Danae, who I call Dee since she was only twelve years older than me, also making her my father's youngest sister.
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I scroll through my contact list and click on Aunt Dee.
"Hey nephew. It's one in the morning. You okay?". Her voice beamed with concern through the phone.
"Hey Dee. I am okay, I guess. I was wondering if I could come stay by for a little bit." I twirled the wire of my headphones between my fingers as I swayed on the playground swing.
"Did Robert fuck up again?". She asked with disappointment laced in her tone.
"Yeah, he may have kicked me out of our house." I winced in advance as I knew she was about to lose it not long after she heard what I said.
"What?! He kicked you out?! Is he out of his mind?! It's that damn alcohol taking over for real now! Forget that, where are you at now sweetheart?" She asked.
"I am at the playground near Main Street." I replied.
"Okay. Hold on Bry, I am on my way now." I hear her shuffling out of bed.
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"I can't believe he did that baby. What exactly happened?". Dee asked me as I got comfortable in the front passenger.
"I don't even know. I came back from playing basketball and he started yelling and screaming at me, accusing me of killing mom." I replied effortlessly.
"Oh my baby. I am so sorry. You deserve so much better Bryson." She let a tear slip.
I fix my posture to seem a lot more attentive rather than comfortable since I had never really seen her cry before.
