Tubs

17 - Back for the Dish Sponge

Chapter 17 - Back for the Dish Sponge

"Fuck this stupid, shit phone," I slammed my phone as hard as I could down onto the concrete ground again. The screen immediately shattered more, particles of glass flied around a meter radius. My throat was tight due to the strain on my screams.

I jumped on it, stomping it like beneath me was a man who killed my first-born. My kicks grew more and more violent as I just realized the situation I was put in because of the phone.

I was nearly caught. I was nearly discovered by the police. I was nearly brought back to that hell I have to consider home. All because of this device that risked, literally, the rest of my life. My new life, one that I would like, one that I would enjoy and cherish and I could start new and no one could tell me to lose weight, no one could tell me how to dress, no one could blame me for things I didn't do. No one who said those things to me could come back.

"This stupid, stupid, stupid fucking phone," I grabbed it and slammed it back down repetitively, not that there was much to pick up. The past two years of my life recorded had vanished, and all that was left on the ground was metal scrap and glass. I wasn't even bothered.

I'd only noticed my ragged breathing once I looked over at Toby, who hadn't let out a single sound the entire time I was having my rampage. He just stood there silently, clenching his fists around the straps of his bag as he stared down at the phone - if it could even be called that anymore - intently.

We were in the middle of a random street, tearing this phone to shreds because I couldn't handle how anxious it was making me. I sensed that I drove far out enough from the previous 'crime scene', and had put the car to a stop to just get rid of that phone. That evil little device that almost ruined everything. I couldn't bare looking at it, and the idea of it being anywhere even in the car had bothered me even more. As soon as I got out of the car, the phone in my hand, my mind just snapped and I did the first thing I thought of. Break it. That's what I've been doing for - what I can only assume now - is three minutes.

For a moment I felt guilty for letting him see me like this. Toby was only nine, so I highly doubt he'd seen an outburst like this before, and if in some unfortunate case he'd seen one before, he doesn't have to see it again.

His eyes didn't move, they were stuck on what was left of the phone. His shoulders were slumped, and he was suspiciously serene under the circumstances.

Here stands the girl who is responsible to take him from one end of the country to the other, torturing her phone and screaming a string of curse words at this inanimate object.

Very reliable.

I know I probably - I definitely looked like a crazy person to any other person who might've strolled past this scene, but Toby made it seem normal. It was strange, how he didn't even flinch at the small glass shards flying out in unpredictable directions. He just stared, his face blank of any emotion. I felt like this was my cue to apologize to him for seeing me in such a state. For letting out such foul language in front of a kid. Possibly, for even scaring him. But there was something that made me think that it wasn't an apology that was waiting to be heard.

"Do you want to have a go - "

"Yes." Toby threw off his bag and charged at the phone, grabbing it through all its broken glory and scraping it around the road, bashing it, bending it, destroying it. He had inexplainable rage in his face, conveyed through his button nose scrunched up and his eyebrows furrowed. It was almost funny how much hatred a nine-year-old could carry in one look, and gradually, he started laughing. Not in a maniacal way, not at all. He started laughing as if he was watching television, there was something so amusing to him about this that he couldn't contain. I started laughing too, but at the entertainment he got from breaking a phone.