I Was A Runaway

chapter nine

I've been down here for what feels like forever. Earl still hasn't come down, but I can hear him, his light weight stepping on the old floors. He hums to himself and wonders. No television, music, it doesn't sound like he's cleaning either. He's just kind of here. I am beyond bored, I'm going crazy. I've walked around the room with my hand scraping against the rough walls. It's a fair sized room in the shape of a rectangle with a square attached to the far corner behind the stairs. The light switch is on the other side of the door upstairs, so the only light is coming from a small window by the ceiling. It looks just large enough to fit my bag of biscuits through. Earl just got in the shower, the pipes in the corner under the stairs wailing in protest. I can't take the silence with little noises that echo off the walls, it's messing with my head. I can't think straight. One of the sinks upstairs is constantly leaking, the drops of water ringing like bells down the drain. I though Alex was annoying, but this is torcher. Why did he bring me here if I'm just going to sit in the basement? They must have a plan for me. I've walked around this room so many times, I'm getting dizzy. Taking a seat by the pipes for warmth, I slowly drift to sleep.

"Higher daddy! Higher!" Alex screams from the swing beside me. "Hey! Get out of my shower!" I laugh when dad gives me a look. He starts to alternate swings, giving each of us an underdog before moving to the other. Once I get up to a certain height, I close my eyes, strengthening that butterfly feeling in my tummy. My swing slows and eventually stops. I open my eyes, ready to walk home, but all I see is darkness. I feel around. The ground is a rough carpet and clothes brushing my head from above. I'm in my closet. I look for the door handle, but jump back when I hear a crash. Mom starts screaming at Robert to calm down. "You're fucking drunk! You're gonna wake the kids! Please, baby. Just calm down. You just need to get some sl-" another crash is heard, followed by my mom's scream. I quietly leave the small space and creep my way down the hall. "Don't tell me what to do!" Robert screams and punches the wall, knocking a vase out of the window. He turns around and punches mom in the gut. Alex is hiding in the garage and I've had enough of this. I run up behind Robert and jump onto his back, wrapping my thin arms around his throat. He easily flips me onto the counter by my ankle. The pain shoots all the way up my leg, throbbing as I lay still. What shocks me most is that mom's not doing anything to stop it. She doesn't even look worried. Robert storms to his bedroom and slams the door, shaking the whole house. We went to the ER when I struggled to walk on my foot. Turns out, I broke my ankle when I 'fell off the playground after school.'

I wake up in a cold sweat, the memory felt so real. It happened a long time ago. I couldn't have been older than six. I want Robert dead. He ruined my family. Sure, if my dad didn't leave he wouldn't be here, but dad loved us, he cared for us, he played with us, he just made a poor decision. I don't blame any of this on him. If he saw how we have been treated since he left, I am sure he would come back. Since he's been gone life has gone downhill. Mom let Robert beat her, she let him beat us, she let him do it all. I would rather be homeless than live with that drunk. I know Alex feels the same. He is always somewhere else. Whether it be school, the park, a friemds, he always manages to leave. Mom and Robert have both told me 'why can't you be more like your little brother?'. He's the model child, with his good grades, many friends, he's kind to all, and he's straight so Robert loves him. I'm just the stupid gay boy who would rather be left alone.