Jeffrey Magnon

1.

"Jeffrey get your ass down here!" His fathers deep voice boomed through the house.

"The fuck you want basterd?!" Jeffrey glared at him as we walked down the stairs and to the living room.

"Don't talk to me that way or I'll give you a beatin." His father said from the kitchen.

"I'm sorry sir." Jeffrey said sarcastically laughing and sitting on the couch.

"Don't test me boy!" His father yelled at him.

"Fuck off old man." Jeffrey said turning on the TV.

His father walked into the living room. A half full glass bottle of beer in his hand.

"Who you calling an old man?!" His father shouted furiously.

"You! You're the old man dumbass!" Jeffrey said getting up and yelling in his fathers face.

"You little shit!" His father yelled as he punched him in the eye.

Jeffrey fell he didn't wince in pain like he used to. He got back up and looked at his father dead in the eyes. "That all your good for givin me beatings?!" He yelled once again at his father face.

"Respect me!" His father yelled throwing his beer bottle at his sons face. The glass shattered on Jeffrey's face and he could feel the blood dripping from his face.

"I hate you!" Jeffrey yelled at his father.

He got his house keys and jacket and went out. Jeffrey often went out sometimes hours sometimes days.

He had a stash hidden near a forest were he'd often go to. When he was younger he built a tree house there. He went up there to drink or smoke.

He had some clothes there and some canes of food.

He sat there and often thought about his life. He'd always wonder who he was, why he felt so numb.

He went to where his stash was. The roof had a wooden bored that could be lifted that's were he hid his money, and weed. The alcohol to.

He often drank Jack Daniels. Whiskey was his favorite booze.

He never seemed to get enough of it. He lit a match using the bottom of his boot. He lit his smoke.
He spent nights like that. Alone.

He learned how to tend to his wounds. It had become necessary for him. He couldn't go to the hospital. Cops would ask how he got the wounds.

As much as he hated his father he didn't want him jailed. If he ever came out he'd be capable of killing his only son.

Monday came along quickly. He was still at his hide out. He walked back home. His father was passed out on the couch. Typical off him Jeffrey thought.

He went up stairs took a shower and changed into black regular jeans and a red t-shirt. He put on his boots and walked out putting on his black jacket and sunglasses.

He went walking to school it was early anyway. He'd gotten in to the habit of always having to chew gum or have a tooth pick in his mouth.

He took a toothpick out of the pocket of his jacket.

He was walking down the neighborhood when he saw an old man taking out a motorcycle. It was a short tail Harley Davson.

"Hey how much you want for it?" He asked the aged man. "Not much like 1,000." The man answered.

"I'll take it." Jeffrey said walking up to the old man. "Here I'll put it in your garage and I'll come pick it up after school. I'll pay you when I come back." Jeffrey told the man.