Changing In Time

Chapter 3: Ice Cream Fiasco

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Chapter 3: Ice Cream Fiasco

After college, I decided to visit someone who had a special place in my heart. My father. I felt the light breeze sweep through my hair and the sun was shining bright against my tanned skin. Even though the temperature was causing me to sweat I didn't move, I remained still and kept my eyes fixed on the fragmented stone ahead of me that held my father's name.

Two years ago he was involved in a car crash. He died at the scene.

My dad was of South Asian descent. He owned a takeaway, which he was so proud of. The area we live in isn't culturally diverse, people didn't treat him kindly. But my mother loved everything about him.

My mum is beautiful, smooth ivory skin
that glistened in the sun, chocolate-like waves for hair and eyes as green as the first leaves of spring. They both fell in love, got married and BAM had two babies, me and Reuben.

My dad never let us see what he was going through and I never knew the extent of the abuse he was receiving until the year before he died.

~ Flashback ~

It was summer and school had just finished for the holidays. I was 15 at the time.

I went to work with my dad, as he was delivering some supplies for the takeaway. We remained in the building as dad was tending to some business till we heard a ruckus outside. We both ran to the window and saw our car being vandalised by a group of boys in hoodies. The tyres were punctured, mirrors were broken, and even the bumper was removed.

My dad told me to stay put whilst he left to speak to the boys. You would've thought they would've run away from the confrontation, but instead the encounter fueled their aggression.

A few of the boys spat racial slurs towards my dad whilst they all huddled around him till I lost sight of him. The verbal abuse soon turned physical. Some of the boys just stood there shocked, unsure what to do. I suppose the physical abuse was a spur of the moment thing. But vandalising the car was not.

My dad was passive and did not agree with violence. A quality I loved and loathed. Some people just can't be reasoned with. I couldn't take it anymore. I ran outside begging them to stop, screaming at the top of my lungs to try and get help. I tried to push the boys away. I tried to help my dad but repeatedly failed. One boy looked at me straight in the face and smirked before punching my dad in the face. His name was Miles. George's best friend. I was helpless. I turned to George, desperate to make this torture end but his eyes remained fixated on the ground, looking away from the horror unfolding infront of him.

"PLEASE TELL THEM TO STOP!" I screamed at him. He clenched his fists remaining still. Why was he conflicted. Did our past mean nothing to him?

I ran up to him and shoved him "DO SOMETHING! THEY'RE GOING TO KILL HIM, PLEASE..." The desperation in my voice must've of drew his attention as he finally looked up to face me. His sense kicked in as he ran to his boys pulling them away, telling them to stop, but it was too late. The damage had already been done.

My dad lay there lifeless and thats when they knew they took it too far. Scared of what they had done the boys quickly dispersed, running away like cowards. George look back at me apologetically before disappearing.