There's always a reason.

The Lowest of the Low

(Still two years ago)

The house was actually really impressive, compared to the old rickety apartment, it's an old yet modern building, two-stories high, with lots of windows. It seemed like it had been recently remodeled, the outside was a blue-gray color it had a one car garage. It's a smaller house than what my parents made I out to be, but it was a lot bigger than the previous place.

We didn't move to far from our apartment to a new state or anything, just a few cities over to live closer to where my parents worked, making it easier to work longer hours and get home a lot quicker. That didn't matter to me that just meant that they would be away from home often, leaving my newly adopted sister and I to fend for ourselves.

It had barely been a day since we had packed up everything, with worth, in our possession into the little five-person car vehicle, drove to the new house, unpacked all of the essentials, my backpack was not one of them apparently. My sister and I had finally lugged the three new mattresses into the bedrooms.

"Nick get down here!" orders my father, "Now!"

"Yes sir!" I shout in return as I sprint as fast as my legs can take me.

"I'm heading into work tonight and so is your mother, we're leaving here in about ten minutes. This means that you're going finish unpacking everything and making this place look spotless, got it." He says this but it's obvious he's pulling out his uniform.

"Yes sir." I reply, weary of his tone as he was talking, he's on edge, one push and he'll explode.

"Oh yeah, before it slips my mind, your mother told me to tell you to be ready to go to your new school tomorrow. Now go tell your sister."

Stunned I don't respond. New school? Wait... What? No one told me this, it's already been a week into the new year, I can't...

"Did you hear me?!" He turns to look at me.

Cutting me out of my thoughts, bringing me back to reality, I wipe the shock from my face. Frantic I make an excuse.

"But we didn't even have all the proper supplies for the school I was in, let alone a new one." I say a little to blunt.

Shoot

Pain inflames my left cheek, leaving a sharp stinging sensation across my face. I can feel the shape of every finger of his now freshly printed across my...

" Did you just say but to me young man," my father threatens through his gritted teeth. He takes a drink of water.

"And." I corrected, "I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing, get it together!"

He shoves me closer to the wall, driving me to the corner so I can't escape this "conversation" we are having.

Shoving his finger into my shoulder forcing me to move yet again. A sharp pain begins to arise.

"Yes sir." I croak.

"I didn't teach you, my son, that way!" Another sharp stab of his finger to my right shoulder. Replacing the previous, now fading pain. Making sure that I'm still engaged and listening to his every word. "This is why we are sending you to school, for you to learn and be more obedient!"

He stabs at my shoulder once more for good measure making sure this "conversation" gets through to me mentally and physically. Then wiping, his, saliva from the new stubble unearthing from his face.

"Go." He says almost inaudible. I still heard him but I don't move, fear has immobilized me.

"GO!" He yells again.

I take the opportunity, with my new-found fear to run, while it lasts and bolted.