Sometimes the true monsters aren't even tall with glowing red eyes and razor sharp teeth. Some take the form of a normal human man. Some, a women. And even others, a small child. Timothy is a boy who has a monster of his own. Though his monster didn't have hairy skin, or one eye with fangs, it had a half empty bottle and a face of hatred.
Timothy sat in the corner, trembling in fear as his father glared at the boy. Boy, if looks could kill. "Pl-Please" his voice came out as a soft broken cry. His father let out an animalistic growl and threw his bottle at Timothy. The small boy flinched as his dad roared, his voice thick with hatred, "Go get me another beer, Boy." Timothy stood up on shaky legs and slowly made his way to the kitchen. His father grew impatient, quickly, he stood up and stomped towards his son. He grab the boy by the collar of his shirt, "Hurry up." He spat. Timothy nodded, wishing his mother was still present. She disappeared 5 years ago when Timothy was 12. After that, his Father started drinking. He became angry and hateful, saying it was Timothy's fault. He reminded the boy every day. '1 more year' he thought to himself, quickly opening the fridge and grabbing a beer for his Father, "1 more year and I'll finally be able to leave' he thought.
After Timothy gave his dad the bottle, he left. He heard his father yelling curses at him, he knew ignoring his dad would end in a beating but at that point, he didn't care. He just wanted to be away from his home. He walked down the street in hopes to find a small park and a comfortable place for him to relax and think. He didn't go out much, he really only went out when he needed to walk to school. He never got the chance to look for a nice small park with a tree for him to sit under. He looked around timidly, there were children playing and families walking about. He didn't remember much from his mother, she was always working. But, when she was home, he had the best time of his life. He remembers when his dad was happy too. He missed that. Being a whole and happy family. He left hot tears forming in the corner of his eyes and he quickly wiped them away. He quickly looked around again and spotted a big tree right in the center of the park. He smiled to himself and whispered, "Perfect." He quickly jogged over to the tree and sat down, letting his thoughts take over.
"Excuse me, sir, but it's after park closing hours." He felt a gentle tap on his shoulder as a soft voice spoke to him. He opened his eyes and saw a park ranger in front of him. His face flushed and he quickly stood up, "I-I'm s-sorry.." He stuttered out and hung his head in embarrassment. She gave him a warm smile and spoke again, "It's quite alright, Have a good evening." And with that, she was gone. He sighed softly and made his way out of the park and towards home. Tomorrow was Monday, meaning he had school. Though, something was stopping him from going home, even though he knew he had too due to school. Suddenly he remembered what was stopping him, He ignored his Father. His stomach dropped and his breathing got heavier. His walking pace slowed, he was stalling. He didn't want to face his Father, but he had to. He couldn't stay away from home forever. He finally approached his small apartment building, dragging his tired and broken body up the steps. Once he reached his apartment he hesitated before opening the door. Prepared for what was going to happen.
He walked in and looked around. His father was nowhere in sight. He let out a small breath of relief and carefully walked into the quiet and empty house. He walked up the stairs slowly, careful to not make a sound in case his dad was home just in his bedroom. Once Timothy made it to his room safely, he closed the door and looked around. His eyes widened and he gasped quietly. His room was torn up, books pulled from the shelves, desk drawers pulled and dumped out, his bed a mess. His eyes watered and he sunk down to his knees. He then realized something, 'My money!' he thought and looked under his bed for a small black box. Said box held his savings from since he was 14. It was missing. He sat back against the wall and cried quietly to himself. At that moment he heard the front door slam closed. He flinched and hugged his legs to his chest, hoping and praying his father didn't walk into his room. As if he was ignored by God himself, his dad walked in. He reeked of throw up and alcohol.
An hour later of merciless beating, Timothy was curled into a tight ball, crying loudly as his body burned in pain. His father stood above him, breathing heavily. "How dare you keep such secrets from me" He spat hatefully. Timothy looked up at the man and trembled, "Wh-What di-id y-you do with it..?" He asked softly, too scared to speak loud. His father's nostrils flared as his picked his son up by the caller of his shirt, "Stop mumbling, Boy." He growled. Timothy looked at him and gave himself a quick prep talk before speaking up, "What did you do with my money?" He asked confidently. His father let a sly smirk form on his face, "I used it." He spoke, obviously, proud of himself. Timothy choked back a sob and looked at his father, his anger clear on his face. "How dare you." He growled.
