Silent P1

May 26, 2010
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Safe time was over. You’d expect I’d be used to it now, but each time he came home from work my heart began to pound like a million bass drums. Sometimes I thought he could hear it, when he was standing over my barley conscious body, and I swear I’d see him smile.

I got to my feet, thinking of running, but knowing I wouldn’t. I never did. Why would I? It was my fault that she had died; it was my fault that Dad was stressed out from work, my fault that I was suspended for yet another week. Well, at least I’d have that time to recover from tonight’s main event.

“JAMES!” I heard him yell. “Where the hell are you?” I quickly lay down on my bed pretending like I wasn’t scared. Acting like I was intensely interested in my science book so when he burst through the door he wouldn’t see the obvious fear radiating from my entire being.

“James!” I had to stop my self from cringing as the door slammed against the wall, knocking down the picture of me and her for yet another time. I clutched the science book, my knuckles turning white from the pressure.
“What the hell boy? You think your all tough getting in another fight at school? Think you’re all bad a** because you can beat up some punk that called your dead sister a h*?” fear turned to anger; red hot blistering anger. But what could I do? I could smell the whisky on him which meant he’d burn out faster this time, but he was always more vocal when he was drunk. I clenched my jaw and kept my gaze firmly on my science book as he continued yelling. “What is this? It’s the second time in the past two months you’ve beaten the s*** out of some kid. You think this will bring her back? Do you?” he paused, like the calm before the storm, but dark clouds are bound to explode sometime. “Answer me boy!”

He erupted; his voice thundering, his eyes flashing lightning. And as fast as a storm its self he grabbed my book and hurled it across the room, sending the contents of my desk flying. I tried not to flinch, but my body reacted before my mind could get control.

“Are you scared? Huh?” a devilish chuckle stung my skin. “Damn it, look at me!” he grabbed my shirt and wrenched me to him. My heart was pounding, my mind blank from panic. “Remember what I told you about being scared?”

I didn’t say a word. I just stared into the cold, blue eyes of my supposed father.

He shook me, trying to get an answer. “Do you remember what I told you about fear?” he roared.

Still, I didn’t say a thing, silent as fear itself.

In a split second he had me against the door, his hands around my neck, pressing harder and harder, like he thought if he squeezed hard enough, time would go back to his glory days. “What is fear?” he bellowed as he threw me and my body away. Not caring what happened to his creation. I stumbled over the contents of my desk but caught my self just in time to see his body slump against the door. Palms pressed against the wood, chest heaving as he thought about his next move. Again, the sweet, warm air before an eruption.
“Fear is weakness.” I whispered, pressing my self against the wall, quietly opening the window for a chance to escape this hell I’d been forced to live in. But the sudden breeze alerted him, his head snapping up as his hands turned white with anger. I spun toward the window, grabbing at the seal for leverage as I swung my self out into the darkness. But he was faster.

“FEAR IS WEAKNESS!” glass flew everywhere as he smashed my head into the window with each word. Blood clouded my vision, and anger clouded my mind. I didn’t think I’d be able to get up. The room was spinning but my eyes focused on my father standing over me, blood and hair in his hands. “Weakness is what got your sl** of a sister raped and cut open!” and that’s all it took.

Without thinking for the first time since she died, I leapt to my feet, ignoring the immense pain, and released a monster that had been begging to come out since Kyra died. Hungry for revenge and blood, It grabbed him and shoved him against the broken window, adrenalin giving It the strength to do what I had always dreamed of doing. I wiped the blood from my eyes so I could see his pitiful and shocked face. For once, he was the one paralyzed with fear. With mine centimeters away from his, I said what I’d been dying to say for five years.

“You were the one who sent her away.”

With one good shove, he toppled out of the window, unable to get his balance. Fear, or rather, weakness, was the last thing I saw on his face. His scream echoed in my ears as he fell down four stories, where the only thing to catch him was the cold, hard asphalt.

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A'Lea N. said...
Jun. 12, 2010 at 1:16 pm
any feed back for me? did you like it?
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