Prompt: A prompt about Silas before Ray adopted him
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Nine year old Silas bounced his bouncy ball quietly on his windowsill. If he was too loud with it, one of his parents would take it and throw it out of the window again.
But he was growing bored and restless in the house. He could smell weed and cigarette smoke, probably coming from the living room.
He tucked the ball securely in his pocket and left his bedroom. The smell of smoke and weed grew stronger as he went downstairs, and sure enough, his father was lounging on the couch with several beer bottles in front of him.
"Move out of the way of the fuckin' TV," he said, chucking an empty beer can at Silas's head.
It hit Silas and bounced to the floor, and Silas slipped out of the way of the TV. An empty can didn't hurt; his father's fists would.
His mother came out, lighting herself another cigarette. She impatiently swatted Silas out of the way to go stand in front of her husband, blocking his view of the television.
"For fuck's sake," his father said impatiently. "Eliza, move. You're worse than the kid."
"Where's the bottle, Luke?" Eliza demanded.
"I didn't touch your fuckin' bottles. Move," Luke said, trying to shove her out of the way.
She smacked him and picked up a can of beer, whacking him in the head with it. "I know you ain't lying to me, bastard. So I'll ask you again: Where's the fucking bottle?"
Silas pressed himself against the wall, watching them with boredom. He knew it would come back to him, somehow, before their anger returned to each other. He'd wait it out and then leave. He wanted to defend himself so his father couldn't push his theft onto Silas.
"The kid probably took it," Luke said, sure enough. "Bitch at him."
"Ain't me who took your shit," Silas said.
Eliza grabbed his arm and yanked him forward roughly. "It was you or your scumbag dad, so one of you better fess up before I beat both your asses."
"It wasn't me," Silas said in annoyance, yanking his arm free. He'd stolen cigarettes, sure, but not his mom's pills. He wasn't letting his dad put the blame on him. "Bet he's sittin' on 'em."
"Bet you're not going to sit for the rest of your fucking life if you don't shut that mouth of yours," Luke said, backhanding Silas. "Ungrateful little bastard."
"Get up," Eliza snapped, yanking her husband to his feet. She pulled the cushion off the couch, revealing a pill bottle. She picked it up and punched Luke in the gut. "Lie to me, huh?"
"Bitch," Luke snarled, grabbing her arm and digging his fingers into her skin roughly. "Ain't gonna smack me around in my own house."
Silas turned and left the room as they began to fight. He was in the clear; the rest was their problem to handle.
He left the house and started down the street. He kept a safe distance from the houses bordering the sidewalks, making sure there was enough space that if someone tried to jump him, he'd see them coming first.
