Strings

Chapter one

Tears would stream down my cheeks as my mom would break my guitar. She screams and throws the broken pieces at me, a chunk of would leave a gash on my left cheek. I would would wince with pain and place my hand over my cheek. My eyes would widen as I see the blood on my hand mixed with my tears. The dark crimson would drip from my cheek and jawline onto my blue jeans. My mom would look at me and laugh "you're as pathetic as I thought," she would say smirking and let out a laugh of success.

***A few hours before***

I would sit in the cafe picking strings on my guitar and singing the original song I wrote the night before. After finishing the part of the song cheers and clapping rings throughout the cafe and my face would burn bright red. "Heh th-thank you," I would say stuttering with a smile painted across my lips.
As I sit there drinking the coffee someone had bought me, the manager walks over to me, "that was some amazing work you did there," she'd say as she wipes off her hands with a cloth that was tucked into her apron. "Oh thank you," I say and offer my hand to her. "I'm Brian," I'd say as she'd grab my hand and shake it. "Liz," she would say with a smile as she pulls away. "Well you're welcome to come and play here all you want but I should get back to work." Liz would say and she would great the people walking in.
I would quickly put my guitar back inside the case and shuffle to my feet quickly as I'd soon see the time. "Shit! Mom is gonna be pissed at me!" I'd say in a loud whisper. Grabbing my case I would fling out the door running up the street. Rain would soon start to pour down heavily and my combat boots would slosh around in the puddles as I would run home.
Eventually I would make it home and slam the door behind me as I would catch my breath and slowly slide down the door. "BRIAN WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN??!!" I could hear my mom shout from upstairs. My eyes would widen and I can feel the color drain from my face. I would gulp down all the nasty words I so longed to say and got up. I would pick up my dripping wet case and slowly walk upstairs to the living room, where my mom had been sitting drinking the half empty bottle of rum. "I thought I told you to be home but seven," she would say as she would take a long sip of the rum, some drips from her mouth and onto her pants. "I know but I just g-" I would be cut off by the glass beer bottle my mom had thrown at me. "WHAT THE HELL DID I SAY ABOUT YOUR GUITAR!!??" She would practically scream. Clutching the handle of the guitar case usually made me feel safe and warm but tonight was different, it made me infuriated. Powerful but weak at the same time. She would get up and stomp her heavy feet as she walks closer to me. Panic would run through my brain and my flight or fight mode would kick in. "Give me that damned guitar!" She would say bitterly and angrily, throwing her hand at me in a grabbing motion. "NO!" I would shout, tugging my guitar case closer to me,pushing her away with my free hand. Her face would burn bright, flushed with anger. I would gulp down my pride, my legs trembling beneath me as I stand there. "You asked for it Brian!"

***Current time***

Tears would stream down my cheeks as my mom would break my guitar. She screams and throws the broken pieces at me, a chunk of would leave a gash on my left cheek. I would would wince with pain and place my hand over my cheek. My eyes would widen as I see the blood on my hand mixed with my tears. The dark crimson would drip from my cheek and jawline onto my blue jeans. My mom would look at me and laugh "you're as pathetic as I thought," she would say smirking and let out a laugh of success. I would look around me at the broken pieces of my once cherry wood guitar, lay in chunks. More blood would run down my cheek and onto my blue jeans. Gently bringing my hand to my cheek, I would apply pressure, trying to stop the bleeding but it didn't work.

***Four hours later***

The ceiling fan would squeek in the room I'm sitting in. Voices and screams ring around me and I wince. My once minor headache was now a huge migraine. The wooden door would slowly open and an officer would walk in, showing no signs of emotion. He would stare at me for a moment before speaking, "hey there uhm...Brian was it?" He would ask, walking closer to me, sitting in the chair next to me. Nodding slowly I'd sigh, "I don't ever want to see..her..again," I'd say looking at him. He would nod, "ya don't have to, she'll be in jail for quite a while. We will have a temporary home for you in the meantime." He would say and I nod. The patch covering my cut would wrinkle a bit as I give him an uneasy smile. "Let's get you something to eat and drink, you look a bit dehydrated." He would say getting up and walking to the vending machine, slidding a coin into the coin slot. He would push a few buttons and the machine would spring to life, pushing down the snack he chose. The officer would lean down and take the snack from the little opening and get a cup of water. I would look up at him and tilt my head. He would smile and hand me the crinkly bag of chips and the cup of water, "there ya go bud, I'll be here with you so feel free to rest as well," he would say gently. I nod and take a drink, popping open the bag and eating.