Symphony Of A Serial Killer

Chapter 2: Confrontation

You know what? I can't even say I'm surprised. Between the shower and the heels of my feet pounding against the hardwood, there was no way I'd go unnoticed. Though there's nothing wrong with dreaming... unless you're dreaming while awake and seeing things that aren't really there of course.

"Your point!?" I shout back.

"Don't make me come in there and kick your ass!"he replied.

I can't even begin to count how many times that empty threat has been made. Have you ever had that person growing up who was freakishly stronger than you and chose to make your life a living hell? Go ahead, take your time and think about it. Brother, sister, cousin, uncle, aunt, mother, father, or the all-time classic and my personal favorite, the bully from school. It always brought me great joy when I saw someone get what they deserved in the end.

The weak become the strong and are able to stand up for themselves, shattering the bigger person's ego and ultimately embarrassing them in front of their peers. Well my bully isn't from school, he's at home. I take that back, he was my bully until one day I set him straight. That didn't change his dynamic though, now it's just verbal assaults since he found out physical ones won't work anymore.

"Your point James? Make it or shut the fuck up!" I fire back while sliding on a fresh pair of boxer briefs.

Man, this last day of school is looking more and more appealing as the morning goes on, can't wait to walk out the door. Suddenly I hear the sound of a chair sliding against the floor. My initial thought was that he's getting up from the kitchen table to make his move. He wouldn't would he? We had our scuffle a year ago and he lost, never to lay hands on me again since that day. Granted getting beat up by someone younger and half your size is never a good look, especially in front of your girlfriend.

Expecting the worst, I quickly put on a pair of khakis and a blue short-sleeved v-neck. I'm not trying to get into a brawl in my underwear for crying out loud. With my eyes on the doorknob waiting for it to turn, I listen... nothing, not a sound. What the hell is he up to? Stealing a glance at the clock, I notice that it's now 7:10. Was I really in the bathroom that long? School starts at 8:15 and I pride myself on being punctual; I don't have time for this.

Reaching into the top drawer, I grab the first roll of socks I come across. Along the baseboard, just outside of the closet, my shoes are lined up neatly. Of course I reach for the oxfords to go along with my pants. It must have been by instinct because I don't even remember picking up my backpack. Allowing it to fall to the floor, I remind myself that it's the last day before break and I'm a senior. Instead I grab my watch from the dresser and shove it into my pocket while leaving the room.

I'm sure to watch my blind side while swiftly making my way down the hall and to the kitchen. There's clear urgency with my OCD to be on time, but I'm also not trying to be caught off guard from a sneak attack. Reaching my destination, I discover that I was wrong. It would seem as though the sound I heard was in fact a chair being slid across the floor, but it wasn't so he could get up and kick my ass. Instead it was to make room for his guilty pleasures. On one knee rested a beer he was holding, and on the other sat his whore, two items that were explicitly cheap and easy to obtain.

Look at them, no respect for themselves or for those around them. He sits there looking like shit. In all fairness, he's shit to me. To the world he's not a bad looking guy, you could even go as far as to say he's dashing with his slicked back hair and light beard. Every morning though, he sits in his chair and relishes each sip as part of his belief that it's five o'clock somewhere. I'll give him credit though, for as much beer as he drinks it's amazing that he keeps his medium build for a guy that doesn't work out.

Apparently wearing nothing but a long white t-shirt is lady like, because clearly his guest feels as though that's all she needs to wear while in someone else is home. How do I know she's only wearing a t-shirt and nothing else? Well for one this white shirt is see through and if this were a wet t-shirt contest you wouldn't even need to pour water on her. With that said, I'll assume that she's not wearing underwear either. As a matter of fact, I'm so sure that I'm willing to put money on it. Look at her sitting in his lap with arms wrapped around his neck as he takes another swig, how romantic.

"Took you long enough." he belched out with no regard for the woman sitting in his lap.

"Really James, you're timing me now or something?"

"You show him the respect he deserves." His lap ornament chimed in after peeling her lips from his ear. My stomach curled and I suddenly felt sick. I don't know if its because she actually made a sentence that would imply him being worthy of my respect, anyone's for that matter. Or the fact that I just watched her pull her tongue from out of his ear.

"How about you show some respect for yourself and put some damn clothes on." I replied with an ice cold glare.

Her jaw dropped ceremoniously as her eyes began to squinted, I give her credit for not even flinching at the sound of James slamming the beer bottle on the table.

"Watch your mouth lil nigga!" He bellows while jumping to his feet and almost sending his floozy soaring. However she gracefully landed on her feet as if she's use to being tossed around... you know, like a woman in her profession would be.

His body language was clear and not to be misunderstood. He must have drank so much the night before that he washed away all recollection of how this turned out for him last time. She quickly stretched her arm out to block him and stepped forward herself.

"It's okay babe." She said with a smile while approaching me.

Her shirt wasn't as long as I thought, thankfully I was wrong again and she was wearing underwear.

"Danté what's wrong with what I'm wearing?" She asks while directing with her hands for my eyes to look her up and down. I decline the invitational while James crashes back into his chair with a chuckle.

"What's wrong boy, scared to look at woman?"

Scared to look at a woman? No, never that. Admittedly she filled out the shirt quite nicely, but I have standards. I'm not going to fixate on some slut I know almost half the seniors at school have run through.

I turn away with a sigh and get ready to head out, as my hand meets with the screen door, "James, I really wish you'd just die and make life easier for a lot of people."

"You really are a disrespectful little shit aren't you?" she shouts.

He didn't respond, instead I hear the sound of him jumping up. Not willing to entertain these two any longer, I walk out the door and begin making my way across the backyard. Taking this shortcut should make up for lost time. Speaking of which, I reach into my pocket for the watch so I can see just how late I'm going to be. Before I can even check the time, the door flies open.

"Watch how you talk to him, he's your father after all!"

Her words stopped me in my tracks. No one wants a person who spreads their legs to make a living trying to give them life advice... I clinch the watch so tightly that I hear something break, "You stupid bitch, you know nothing about me or my family!"

As I turn around I see that James had bulldozed her to the ground and a beer bottle spiraling right at me.