There he is again. Walking alone all by himself. Too much of a pariah. Has no friends. Can't really make any.
His hood pulled up on his head and his worn sneakers hitting the ground hard. The wind blows hard but the hood manages to stay perfect. Something that everything else in his life can't.
No one has an easy life. There's always that one kink. Am I right?
Well, this kid has quite a predicament. His life is like fire and all the factors in it are like rain.
As long as he tries not to burn out, water will probably prevail in the end.
His foot steps speed up as he hears the gang bangers walking his way. They won't give up making this boys life a living hell.
They don't really give a fuck about how he feels. I mean, I truly don't think they know how he feels.
They don't care.
It's just a new game to them everyday.
He tries to keep calm. His breaths are heavy and are visible in the cold air. His hands are held tight in his pockets.
He won't fight back because that just makes shit worse.
They get closer to him and he wants to run.
"Steven!" One of the bangers yell and he turns. His eyes close, almost as if he's in pain. There's no going back now.
His lip trembles but not from the cold. From the fear that's burning a hole in his stomach.
It's everyday.
He whips around. They're here. His feet pound on the floor again and again. Running away from the future murderers.
He ran. He ran from them. Something he has to do everyday.
They don't even know his name. Oh, you probably thought it was Steven. Yeah, no.
They just want him to know how much of a scum they actually think he his. He feels it's a hobby of theirs but they don't know that he already knows how much of a fuck up his really is.
He runs home. A place where one should feel at home, right? A place where there's love and safety, right?
Wrong.
At least not for 'Steven'.
"Steven, get your ass in here boy!" His step dad yells. His heart jumps as he drops his year old bag on the ground.
Another daily activity he can scratch off his list.
Getting beat for -once again- another petty thing by his step daddy. When you can't have your actual dad why not have a abusive dick, to fill in, huh?
Nuh uh. Not at all.
But Chad is doing more than filling in. He's doing more than just waiting a while. He's replacing a father.
A father that gave this boy all the hope in the world. But there's nothing he hates more about his step dad more than his face because everytime Jack sees his face, the moment pops up.
The moment his flesh and blood died. The moment he knew all was lost. The moment the car flipped over.
He steps into the living room and nothing says 'hi son how was your day?' more than a firm push to the ground by your dick head step dad.
"What'd I do now? I-I didn't do anything." He stammers, raising back to his feet.
I mean, he has to get up, right? He's not gonna fight his elder but he's not gonna let it seem as if he's hurt. Hell, I don't blame the kid. Strong, he is.
Chad smiles, laughing in the boys face. He must actually think hurting him is funny.
"Damn boy, how many classes are you gonna fail before you finally get admitted to a special ed school?" His dad taunts but he's serious.
There's just a pinch of actual care but it's all covered by this thick, strict voice.
He plucks him in the head making the boy flinch. He could actually hear his finger hit his skull.
"Huh?" He presses, adding to the boys anger and sorrow. He knows he ain't shit but it hurts to hear it from someone who's supposed to love you.
"I-... I didn't even know I was failing." He admits looking to the floor.
"You're so fucking stupid." His 'dad' mutters before punching him right to the floor. It sounded like a bag of bones falling hard when he hit that floor.
And all he could do was wish for a better life on that floor.
All he could do is wish he didn't have so much fucking respect for that nut case on that floor.
All he could do was push himself off that floor.
But like I said, he's that fire and all the other factors in his life is rain. His dad pressed his boot to his chest, pushing him down to the floor. Again!
"Dammit Steven, try a little harder." He laughed.
There was actually glee and joy in his eyes as he held him down to that floor. Damn, he has no mercy for this kid and it's sad.
All he could think from that floor was what a fucking sicko his stepdad was.
"That's not my name." He muttered, grabbing his ankle and tugging, tying to pull it off.
"Oh yeah. Maybe I'd know that if you weren't so damn pussy." Chad takes his foot off of the boy.
"You got every goddam kid on this street calling you Steven!" He flails his right arm up in dismay. He truly is tried of having to call the boy out on his 'pussy' ways.
But damn he has no chill. He can't even sugar coat it for the kid.
"I try to tell them my name and they never listen." He replies but his dads blue eyes just pierce to his brown ones.
"Stand up to them, Jack! Fuck, grow a pair, god dammit!" He shoves past Jack and put to his room.
Jacks jaw aches and his back hurts. He took another beating. He survived another beating and for once he's proud.
He would like to think he stood up for himself but he knows that he didn't. And that hurts.
The door unlocks and he doesn't even bother to check who it is.
"Oh, wassup bro." He brothers voice calls out, patting him on the shoulder. His breath smells like nothing but cannabis. He's on cloud nine at the moment. He's high as shit.
"Old man got to you again?" He yaps and Jack just stands there. Listening to Dylan slowly piss him off.
He rolls his eyes and turns to face the stairs.
"Shit where's my weed?" He hears his dope-feened brother mutter as he goes up into his room.
A place where he can try to tune the world out.
