The Boys Who Cried Help (Koova & NovaHD)

4

"What did I fucking tell you about leaving your shit on the counter James?!"

Hearing the usual yells from his father, he prepared himself for what was going to happen. He checked if he had anymore of the Spongebob bandages that his aunt had given him over the weekend. Realizing that the only yellow object in his drawer was a highlighter, he checked under the wood tile and found six, and to his luck, a roll of gauze. He then set the items under his pillow and exited his room to only have a Corona glass bottle nearly hit him directly in the face. He felt something dripping down his eyebrow and fall to his cheek, continuing the process. His shaky left hand wiped his cheek to see that on his hand was his wine red blood. It was until now that he felt a slight sting to where the newly opened skin was at. The alcohol drips on the side of his head were quick to seep into the wound. The cause of the cut was on light brown floor, supporting a small coat of blood on its sharpest end.

"You better clean up this crap, me and Jessica are leaving. If I don't see this floor and counter empty when I'm done getting dressed, you know what's going to happen."

Sadly, James knew the punishment that he was going to receive. No matter what he does, at the end of the day, various bruises appear around his body. Once his father was out of the room, James shook the small pieces of glass off of his shoulder and proceeded to get a broom from the kitchen. Beside the history textbook that was on the floor, a small roach stood there. James was quick to step on the annoying pest that had no time to react. He then picked up the heavy textbook and put it under his shoulder rather than placing it somewhere else in the room, his father was going to be angry at him if it is in his vision of sight. Going back to the outside entrance of his room, another roach caught his eye, this time on the wall beside him. He decided to ignore this one since there was no use to killing the insects, they are always going to come back to the apartment to feast on the left over pizza on the living room floor.

Why do roaches exist?, James murmured to himself while keeping his eyes on the roach that made its way to the kitchen.

The shards of glass from the bottle was rather large enough for James to pick up, the ones that stood in the minority were swept behind an old fern plant. He would have needed to get a dust holder, but of course his parents wasted the money on their alcoholic beverages. About seven pieces of glass were being carefully held by James' shaky hands. When letting the glass fall into the garbage bin, a fresh, one-inch cut was added between his thumb and pointer finger on his right hand. A line of blood soon appeared, slowly oozing out of his skin. He decided to wash off the blood since he thought that it was unsanitary to suck it off. It disgusted him to do such a thing.

"Hey shithead."

Another thing that James was used to was 'greetings' like these. His mother was no different from his father other than having a bit more control. Control as in knowing that you've beaten your child enough, another punch would just kill him. James turned around to see his mother dressed in clothing that he has never seen her have before. He assumed that it was another bunch of garments that she stole from some cheap clothing store, but he recognized the knitted, burgundy sweater. The whole outfit was from American Eagle. Was it possible that she was able to pass through the whole security system? Her once nappy, jet black hair was now shiny, smooth, flat, and had a chocolate brown color. The once oily face with neon makeup was exchanged for a more natural look, making her look even more younger. What made James smile, a rare occurrence, was her eyes. The very dark brown eyes had the sparkle that seemed to be brought back, but how? The last time that sparkle was seen was before she got deeply into drugs and alcohol. What or who is making her look... better?

"Jessica, where's the damn lighter?"

James' father entered the room in a black shirt that had the NASCAR logo on the chest area, black, slim jeans, and red and white converse. The now jelled, jet black hair was in a quif-like style, similar to the lead singer of the band, Arctic Monkeys. His parents had James when they were in their early twenties. At the age of thirty-five, their faces did not grow wrinkles.