“James Tyler Sanders, get out here! Now!” A voice shouted, it echoed around the big old house, built nearly six decades ago.
James grimaced, crouching underneath the old bed in the guest room. He sneezed from the dust, collected underneath the old bed. He then clapped a hand over his mouth, wincing. Suddenly, his ankles were grabbed and he was dragged out from under the bed. The seven-year old shouted in alarm, but nobody heard him.
The boy looked at his father, tears in his eyes, he tried to struggle away, but his father’s harsh grip didn’t allow that. His father slammed the back of his hand into the side of the boy’s face. “I’ll teach you not to ignore your father when he calls for you!” He shouted.
James gasped, tears flooding his eyes. He managed to yank his arm away from his father and saw blood welling from claw marks where his father's nails had been digging into his arm. He turned and ran away from his father, fear bright in his panicked, brown eyes. He slid down the banister and landed at the bottom of the stairs. He heard his father thundering down the stairs behind him. He ran to the front door and fumbled with the lock but his father was right behind him. He ran to the kitchen, where the nearest phone was. He heard his father getting closer, screaming profanities. He looked around for the small, grey cordless phone that normally lay on the kitchen counter. He grabbed it and started to dial, 9...1...1... He went to press send when his father yanked the phone from his hands and threw it away from them, it bounced off the cabinet.
James reached out and grabbed the first thing he touched, a roll of tape. He threw it at his father’s face and grabbed something else and threw it at his father’s face without even registering what it was, fear and adrenaline running his mind.
James blinked, suddenly, all he saw was red. His father stumbled a few steps towards James, his hands reached out as if he were Frankenstein. He managed to clasp his large hands around James’ neck and looked him into the eyes. “You useless excuse of a-” His eyes rolled back into his head and he fell forward, crushing James against the ceramic tile floor of the kitchen.
James lay there trembling and all he could hear was the phone buzzing, the 911 operator screaming, “Hello? Hello? Is anyone there? Hello?!”
James grimaced, crouching underneath the old bed in the guest room. He sneezed from the dust, collected underneath the old bed. He then clapped a hand over his mouth, wincing. Suddenly, his ankles were grabbed and he was dragged out from under the bed. The seven-year old shouted in alarm, but nobody heard him.
The boy looked at his father, tears in his eyes, he tried to struggle away, but his father’s harsh grip didn’t allow that. His father slammed the back of his hand into the side of the boy’s face. “I’ll teach you not to ignore your father when he calls for you!” He shouted.
James gasped, tears flooding his eyes. He managed to yank his arm away from his father and saw blood welling from claw marks where his father's nails had been digging into his arm. He turned and ran away from his father, fear bright in his panicked, brown eyes. He slid down the banister and landed at the bottom of the stairs. He heard his father thundering down the stairs behind him. He ran to the front door and fumbled with the lock but his father was right behind him. He ran to the kitchen, where the nearest phone was. He heard his father getting closer, screaming profanities. He looked around for the small, grey cordless phone that normally lay on the kitchen counter. He grabbed it and started to dial, 9...1...1... He went to press send when his father yanked the phone from his hands and threw it away from them, it bounced off the cabinet.
James reached out and grabbed the first thing he touched, a roll of tape. He threw it at his father’s face and grabbed something else and threw it at his father’s face without even registering what it was, fear and adrenaline running his mind.
James blinked, suddenly, all he saw was red. His father stumbled a few steps towards James, his hands reached out as if he were Frankenstein. He managed to clasp his large hands around James’ neck and looked him into the eyes. “You useless excuse of a-” His eyes rolled back into his head and he fell forward, crushing James against the ceramic tile floor of the kitchen.
James lay there trembling and all he could hear was the phone buzzing, the 911 operator screaming, “Hello? Hello? Is anyone there? Hello?!”
LASwan
sberning
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