Bully

Chapter 4

   I studied my image in the mirror, glad that after two weeks, the black eye had made a rapid disappearance however there were new injuries to care about now. Like the way my big toe jutted out at an unnatural angle on my left foot and the limp in my right leg I had to hide after my father whacked it with a hammer. I didn’t like any injury, but I preferred bodily ones compared to facial, purely because they’re easier to hide.

  “Brat!” My father bellowed, and I flinched at his voice. He was back from work early today, and didn’t seem too happy about it either. When he was unhappy or stressed out from work, I usually bore the brunt of it. I raced down the stairs as fast as I could, ignoring the stabbing pain from my toe as I didn’t want to anger him more by being slow.

  As soon as he set eyes on me, his lip curled in disgust, and my eyes flitted to the half empty beer bottle in his hand. I refrained from smiling happily, at least he was drinking. That way, maybe I could steal more money from him tonight and enjoy some peace and quiet. Maybe I could even have the luxury of a bath.

   “Yes, father?” I answered his call, bowing my head to him respectfully. His eyes flashed dangerously, as if my very presence made him want to strangle me to death. It probably did.

  He threw his head back and emptied the rest of the bottle in his mouth in one swig, burped and then threw the bottle at me with that disgusted look still on his face. I bit my lip as the glass struck my kneecap but pushed away the pain and kept my face steady. “I’ve been called to go to France for a very important job,” he announced angrily, clearly not happy with this job offer. “I’ll be gone for at least two weeks,” Once again, I had to fight to keep my face steady and free of emotion. His words were like music to my ears. Two weeks without him. It was like a much needed holiday for me. “If I find you’ve put one foot out of place I will personally see your death, got it Brat?”

  I nodded, trying to keep my expression mutual and not enthusiastic. This was just getting better – so far he hadn’t mentioned that one of his personal slaves was babysitting, which were all abusive just like him. However they were amateurs compared to my father, I always liked them looking after me because I didn’t get injured half as much and they actually fed me too. “Will someone be watching me father?” I prompted, fighting to keep the hope away from my face. Of course the whole ordeal would be much better without one of his cronies.

  His nostrils flared and I instantly knew that this was why he was so angry. I refrained from grinning. No one was ‘looking’ after me. He grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked my head so I was mere inches away from his face. The stench of alcohol and cigarettes heavy in my nostrils, making me want to shy away but I couldn’t move.

  “This job requires all of us, it’s big,” he explained, his voice laced with warning and anger. “If you mess it up or put one foot out of place I will make sure you won’t see another day. I’m trusting you Brat, don’t screw it up,”

  “Yes father,” I replied seeing as I was unable to nod. He pushed me away from him, as if I was rubbish and he was disgusted at having picked me up.

  “You will not step foot outside this house apart from school. You will not steal anything that belongs to me. You will not have anyone over this house. You will not utter a word about my whereabouts. You will not breathe a word to anyone about anything that goes on in this household. Got it? Otherwise you better start planning your suicide because I guarantee it will be a nicer way to go than what I’ll have planned for you if you disobey me, Brat,” He listed off, his menacing blue eyes which were a similar shade to mine, were dark with warning.

  I didn’t doubt for one moment that his words were genuine. My father was not one to bluff.

  However I also knew that he had no way of finding out if I had disobeyed him. If I played my cards right, I’d easily be able to pull some of these stunts off. Of course, no one would come here for two reasons. The first: I didn’t actually have any real friends that I would consider inviting over. The second: Although my house was large and lined with expensive furniture it was also a lair of mess, dirt and neglect. I couldn’t remember the last time it’d been cleaned and the whole place had an eerie scent of cigarettes, alcohol and iron.

Iron from the blood that spilled out of my veins. Horrible, horrible blood.

  I already left the house and stole without him knowing when he was present, so to do it whilst he was gone would be child’s play. I would just have to make sure I didn’t do anything stupid and leave evidence, or take anything of mass importance.

  However, the last two I wouldn’t dream of speaking of - whether he threatened me or not. I never spoke my father’s name, never mind his location. In fact, I don’t even think anyone had knowledge of any of my family.

    Not my abusive father, not my dead mother and certainly not my traitorous uncle. No, not a soul would hear about my uncle, not after his doings.

  Furthermore, I have always been too concerned for my life to speak of any of the abuse that was inflicted in this house. Plus, everyone would look down on me. I would no longer be the school bully; I would be the poor, pitiful boy who got bullied.

  Unfortunately, this just happened to come around when the threat of Emily loomed over my head. What if she decided to come snooping around my personal business? Now was not the time to be dealing with her.

  What if she found out the truth? I would die in the most painful way possible. My father would think I told her.

  Dam, Emily. I know that I’d have to solve this problem before it spun out of control. That girl has an overdue hiding that needs to be delivered. Maybe then she could learn to stop prying into other people’s business.

  “Brat!” My father’s voice cut through the silence, and suddenly the force of his palm on my cheek jerked my head to the side. Vomit rose in my chest and panic started to override me. That horrible metallic taste was foul on my tongue. There was blood in my mouth.

  “Spit it out you pathetic boy!” he screamed at me, clearly impatient. Glad to be given permission, I immediately spat it out onto the carpet. Instantly, sick rose to my throat and gushed out of my mouth, staining the carpet alongside the pool of blood. I expected another slap or kick for throwing up on the carpet but to my surprise nothing came.

  Uncertainly, I looked up at his jeering face. “Next time you ignore me, boy, you’ll get more than a slap!” I blinked, realising that I must have zoned out when fretting over Emily finding out the truth.

  “Sorry father,” I apologised, actually grateful for the taste of vomit on my lips, as it was a far better improvement than blood.

  He spat in my face and I fighted the urge to clean it off, knowing it would only result in another assault. “Now, listen up, Brat,” he growled. “Do not open the doors to anyone, do you hear me?”

  I nodded, obviously confused. No one knocked on our door anyway, and why did it sound suspiciously like my father was expecting someone bad to come knocking.

  “I mean it, Brat,” he hissed. “No one steps foot in this house apart from you. No one,”

  “Only me, father,” I promised. He nodded at me, instantly taking me by surprise. This was the closest I’d ever gotten from getting respect off my father. A nod of acknowledgement.

  My shocked face probably having reminded him of his hatred towards me, he kicked me so my legs buckled under my feet and I landed in the pool of vomit and blood. I tried to jerk away from the blood. I couldn’t even bare the sight of it on my skin.

  He forced my head towards the soiled carpet, so it was pressed right into the offensive mixture. A scream found its way to my lips. Blood. Blood was on my face.

  “Pathetic!” My father sneered.

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Author's Note:

Eew, this was so hard for me write! I kind of have a phobia of sick o.O It was making me queasy just writing about it...but I wanted to put across just how much blood affected Byker...

So yeah, Byker's dad is finally getting out of the story for a little while! I don't really like writing all this abuse and I am keen to get him out of the picture so the romance can kick off! But why's he going? And why is it such an important job and requires everyone else that's involved in his job? What is his job? And who might he be expecting to arrive on the doorstep?

Lots of questions!!:L All to be revealed later on.. dun duun DUUUN!

Please can you leave comments on my story? I wanna know how you guys are finding it:)

~Jodi x