(Harleys picture is on the side)
Yelling woke me up for the third time this week, Buick must be at it again. I rolled over in my cot, face down and in an attempt to muffle the sound of Ron's drunken slurs and Buick's snide retorts, only to make Ron, my father, yell louder. I closed my eyes and tried to block them out, but it was louder than usual and I just couldn't ignore it. I rolled back over and muttered, both hands on my face covering my eyes, "Here goes nothing." I slowly rose out of my cot and trudged downstairs. Our house was so decrypted and creaky that I barely made it down three stairs before my drunken excuse of a father appeared yelling out my name, alerting me that my arrival downstairs was also my ticket into the argument Buick and Ron had began. I sucked in a deep breath and walked down the remaining stairs.
The scene before me was unfortunate to say the least, our small house was in shambles. Plates and utensils were strewn everywhere, our table was flipped over and split in half, while my father and brother stood on either side of the room. This wasn't the first time something like this had happened, but it definitely was the worst.
"What's going on?" I asked, looking directly into Buick's anger ridden eyes.
"Why don't you tell her?" Buick said locking eyes with our extremely intoxicated father.
My father started to chuckle and slurred at him, "You don't know what you're talking about boy."
"Tell Harley how majorly you've fucked up Ron!" Buick roared back at him, walking forward and swiftly closing the distance between himself and our father.
I ran towards Buick and tried to hold him back while my father began to laugh harder, only further aggravating my brother. I pushed myself in between both of them in an attempt to detour any physical altercation from beginning.
"Buick," I started, " Look it can't be that bad." I was desperately trying to get Buick's attention, if we were too loud the Transport would come and things would get even worse.
His enraged expression twisted into a menace, "You don't get it Harley. He sold you. He sold you to the other side, and the Transport is coming to get you."
To which my dad responded at by laughing at so hard he fell backwards, swiftly and efficiently knocking him out.
I fell to my knees against Buick completely shell-shocked. He yanked my arm and pulled me up, "No time for that Harley. Get your stuff together, we're leaving tonight."
Flash back
It wasn't always like this, my fathers behavior I mean. When my mother left him shortly after my birth, he fell apart. He stayed in his room for days on end, leaving a 8 year old Buick to care for the then 7 year old me. When he finally emerged, bottle in hand, he wasn't the same dad that would play dress up with me and pretend to eat Buick's disgusting mud pies, he changed like everything around us. Soon after his departure from his room, Ron divulged everything about our family's past. Mainly focusing on how Buick wasn't even his son and that he never wanted children . He only had me because our mother Silvi loved children. He told us the real reason why she left, but we're both fairly certain he doesn't remember telling us. See, she was a hybrid of vampire and werewolf, a social outcast of the other side. So she crossed the border into human territory and made her way into our little town of Ashville, one of the three safe havens for humans. She looked human enough to "fool him" into loving her and her bastard son. When her parents found her location they sent the Transport to retrieve and deliver her back to the border, leaving Buick, Ron, and I behind. Ever since then, Ron and I began to plan our journey to past the border and into the unknown land of the supernaturals.
.... And tonight is the night we put our plan into action.
