Reflections

Part I-Chapter I

~Victor Neal~

Bum...bum-bum...bum...bum-bum

That's the sound I hear when I wake up every morning; my heartbeat. Silence always fills my room, so much to the point I can hear my clock tick-tock and the hallow wind brush upon my window. Sometimes, I can even hear my own thoughts. Dangerous thoughts.

However, the muteness ends as soon as I hear,

"VICTOR! GET OFF YOUR BED AND COME FOR BREAKFAST!" My father yelled.

He always shouts at the top of his lungs. In the morning, the afternoon, and even at night prior to bedtime. Though, he works incredibly hard to sustain us and he travels too often. There's barely any hours left in the day to bond with him which makes our relationship be as a thorn to a paw. Into the shadows, I stared and dozed off.

"WHILE I'M YOUNG VICTOR!"

I jumped out of bed as I had forgotten about his call.

"Coming Father." I said calmly.

I put on my neon green cotton shirt, quickly combed my hair, then headed to the dining room. I found my father at the table drinking his daily dose of coffee and scrolling through his phone.

Dread and quietness filled the room until he finally said something.

"Did you study last night?" He asked.

Study, I thought. I came home last night very sore from sprinting. I managed to complete my homework, but I couldn't practice my academics any longer. My heart began to pounce, I knew if I told him that I didn't study, he wouldn't be proud. Then again, has he ever been proud of me? I question that every time I stare at him. His tired umber eyes, black hair that's beginning to grey, and the stern, empty expression he wears. Have I ever seen him smile? Have I ever seen him laugh for that matter? Nothing seems to loosen him. I dozed off again and he caught me off guard.

"Victor, did you or did you not study last night?" He repeated, but impatience fueled his voice.

"S-sorry, I-I did my ho-homework last n-night, but I-I couldn't study. I-I came home from t-track practice exhausted, I-I was t-too tired-"

"Tired, tired, tired! That's all I hear from you! And stop stuttering!" He cut me off and departed the room.

I sighed. I don't usually stutter, however I do when I feel nervous. Around my father, I always feel nervous.

I went back upstairs and prepared for school. Mother would be taking me soon. I gathered my notebooks and pencils, then headed for the door.

I found my father waiting by the car with an impatient expression. Where was mother? I stood there for a moment, breathing slowly, feeling the tension rise. He glanced at me and began speaking.

"Well, don't keep me in suspense all morning. You'll be late." His eyes squinted and he went in the car.

"Where is mother?" I asked quietly.

"She was exhausted this morning. Please, get in the car."

I followed him and I sat in the back seat. I couldn't bring myself to sit beside him. My frightened heart and mental uneasiness from the presence of him kept me from doing so. I know we'd be less detached if I sat alongside him, but fear has its power.

I could hear the engines roaring because that's how quiet it was. Occasionally, he breaks the silence to ask me a question about school.

"How is school treating you? How are your friends?" He asked softly.