Status: Currently stopped working on.
Jecht
Broken
I looked out of my kitchen window. The weather had been cold and windy for the past week or so and there were down trees everywhere, but that's not what I was looking at. Outside on the deck, sat a man. A 50 year old man that I called my father. I never really called him “father” I always called him “Tom” I had learned my lesson from calling him “father.” A nice kick in the ass.
He was sitting; smoking a cigarette. He would soon come inside and watch the football game but, I still feared that for some reason, he would make up an excuse to “teach me a lesson”
He stood. I flinched. I tipped over an empty vegetable can and it fell to the floor. He looked up from putting out the cigarette. I ducked and picked up the can. There was water on the floor. I was panicking. I heard him open the door. I quickly grabbed a towel off of the fridge door handle and started to wipe the small puddle from the floor. I was lucky that my “mom” was in town. She would've heard and I immediately would've regretted ever looking out of that window. I wiped up the water and put the towel back on the fridge door. I looked up, Tom wasn't mad. He was simply watching football, reclined in his chair. I let out a sigh of relief; I quietly picked up the tin can and placed it back on the counter. I sighed and walked quietly to my room, not wanting to disturb Tom.
I immediately turned on my computer and opened a new typing page. I then remembered that I had Internet. I got up and looked at the old man, he was sleeping, even snoring. That meant it was safe to go online.
My “parents” didn't allow me to have Internet, or a cell phone. Friends weren't allowed to call on the house phone. I paid my older “brother” Nate to give me Internet. It's not like I would ever be able to use $200 anyways.
The computer was at least as old as I was, it was slower then a slug. It started to flicker. “God dammit.” I whispered to myself and slammed the side of the screen. The screen teetered and eventually crashed on the floor. My heartbeat quickened. I just stared at the broken monitor. I heard the old man get out of his seat. He was quickly walking to my room, his feet pounding on the carpet floor as he walked. I started to breath faster, I couldn't control it. I was in panic mode. I never cried. I never shed a tear. Too many had been shed, and I believed that there were no more left in me to be let out. I just stared at the pile of wires and broken memory chips laying on the floor, knowing I would get “taught a lesson”
In my mind I had learned my lesson already. “Never hit a computer screen.” Tom had something else in mind to teach me though. I swallowed deeply and waited for the old man to come around the corner, furious, hand in shape of a fist. He came. Just as I pictured. He had come around that corner before, hand in shape of a fist. Today was no different.
I stood up against the wall, I just stared at him. I knew that today was going to be worse then the others. Today I had bothered him while he was watching football. Today my “mom” wasn't home. Today it was just “father” and I.
He stood in the doorway of my dump of a room. My door was all of the way open. At first he stared at me. I then stared at the broken screen. He followed my gaze, and saw the mess on the floor. “lesson learned”
I woke up on the floor, my hair in my face. I tried to pull myself up. I couldn't open my left eye. “Shit.” I thought. I immediately started of thinking of an excuse to tell the teachers at school. Ryan would've already knew. I was just thankful that the only person I loved wasn't going to be in the same pain that I was when I saw him.
I laid on the floor, it was quiet outside of my closed bedroom door. For once no yelling while both “parents” were home. The old man wasn't watching television anymore. “How long have I been laying here?” I thought as I tried again to pull myself up. I lifted my head from the ground and the blood tripped right in front of my eyes; onto the already blood stained carpet. “Are you freaking kidding me?” I whispered as I wiped my face with my right hand. My whole body was sore. I rolled over and closed my eyes.
I awoke to getting kicked in the side. “Wake up you little brat, school is today and we all know that you could be a little bit more smarter in that head of yours.” I knew not to yawn or reply, I would just get kicked harder. I immediately got up, no matter how much my body ached, I could never let “mother” know that I was in pain. I stood on top of the blood stain, I would have to clean it when I arrived home. “Mother” threw my pants at me and closed my door. “Hurry if you want breakfast.” she whispered before the door was all the way closed. “Mother” wasn't as much of an ass as Tom was, she had a soft spot for me and sometimes even stood up to Tom. Other times she was just as bad as him. Today she was letting me have a breakfast, today might be alright.
I opened my closet door and grabbed my sweatshirt, the one I always wear after a beating. I put my eyeliner in my bag and opened my bedroom door.
Mother was putting my French toast on a plate and placing it on the counter. I looked at her while I sat down, I was cautious. I didn't want to make her angry. She could've lost her mind at any moment.
I finished breakfast. Mother was sleeping on the couch. Tom was working, he wouldn't be off work until 7 pm and still he might not even get home until tomorrow. I grabbed my bag, and put on my old, worn out converse. I was only thinking about Ryan, I hurried to lace up my shoes. I looked on the door, there was a note from Mother. I looked at her motionless body laying on the couch. She could've been a happy, she didn't have to be trapped in this house like I. She was like me; felt like you didn't have a choice anymore. Did what you were told, and still could be punished.
I read what the note said. “Have a good day, get your work done. If you were smart you wouldn't come home tonight, go to a friends house. Tom wont be coming home tonight. I'll see you tomorrow.”
Mother knew that I was good in school; knew that things at home weren't affecting my school work. It was just affecting my body, my mind, how I thought of things.
I grabbed the note off of the door; stuck it in my bag. I smiled at Mother before I walked to catch the bus in the winter cold.
He was sitting; smoking a cigarette. He would soon come inside and watch the football game but, I still feared that for some reason, he would make up an excuse to “teach me a lesson”
He stood. I flinched. I tipped over an empty vegetable can and it fell to the floor. He looked up from putting out the cigarette. I ducked and picked up the can. There was water on the floor. I was panicking. I heard him open the door. I quickly grabbed a towel off of the fridge door handle and started to wipe the small puddle from the floor. I was lucky that my “mom” was in town. She would've heard and I immediately would've regretted ever looking out of that window. I wiped up the water and put the towel back on the fridge door. I looked up, Tom wasn't mad. He was simply watching football, reclined in his chair. I let out a sigh of relief; I quietly picked up the tin can and placed it back on the counter. I sighed and walked quietly to my room, not wanting to disturb Tom.
I immediately turned on my computer and opened a new typing page. I then remembered that I had Internet. I got up and looked at the old man, he was sleeping, even snoring. That meant it was safe to go online.
My “parents” didn't allow me to have Internet, or a cell phone. Friends weren't allowed to call on the house phone. I paid my older “brother” Nate to give me Internet. It's not like I would ever be able to use $200 anyways.
The computer was at least as old as I was, it was slower then a slug. It started to flicker. “God dammit.” I whispered to myself and slammed the side of the screen. The screen teetered and eventually crashed on the floor. My heartbeat quickened. I just stared at the broken monitor. I heard the old man get out of his seat. He was quickly walking to my room, his feet pounding on the carpet floor as he walked. I started to breath faster, I couldn't control it. I was in panic mode. I never cried. I never shed a tear. Too many had been shed, and I believed that there were no more left in me to be let out. I just stared at the pile of wires and broken memory chips laying on the floor, knowing I would get “taught a lesson”
In my mind I had learned my lesson already. “Never hit a computer screen.” Tom had something else in mind to teach me though. I swallowed deeply and waited for the old man to come around the corner, furious, hand in shape of a fist. He came. Just as I pictured. He had come around that corner before, hand in shape of a fist. Today was no different.
I stood up against the wall, I just stared at him. I knew that today was going to be worse then the others. Today I had bothered him while he was watching football. Today my “mom” wasn't home. Today it was just “father” and I.
He stood in the doorway of my dump of a room. My door was all of the way open. At first he stared at me. I then stared at the broken screen. He followed my gaze, and saw the mess on the floor. “lesson learned”
I woke up on the floor, my hair in my face. I tried to pull myself up. I couldn't open my left eye. “Shit.” I thought. I immediately started of thinking of an excuse to tell the teachers at school. Ryan would've already knew. I was just thankful that the only person I loved wasn't going to be in the same pain that I was when I saw him.
I laid on the floor, it was quiet outside of my closed bedroom door. For once no yelling while both “parents” were home. The old man wasn't watching television anymore. “How long have I been laying here?” I thought as I tried again to pull myself up. I lifted my head from the ground and the blood tripped right in front of my eyes; onto the already blood stained carpet. “Are you freaking kidding me?” I whispered as I wiped my face with my right hand. My whole body was sore. I rolled over and closed my eyes.
I awoke to getting kicked in the side. “Wake up you little brat, school is today and we all know that you could be a little bit more smarter in that head of yours.” I knew not to yawn or reply, I would just get kicked harder. I immediately got up, no matter how much my body ached, I could never let “mother” know that I was in pain. I stood on top of the blood stain, I would have to clean it when I arrived home. “Mother” threw my pants at me and closed my door. “Hurry if you want breakfast.” she whispered before the door was all the way closed. “Mother” wasn't as much of an ass as Tom was, she had a soft spot for me and sometimes even stood up to Tom. Other times she was just as bad as him. Today she was letting me have a breakfast, today might be alright.
I opened my closet door and grabbed my sweatshirt, the one I always wear after a beating. I put my eyeliner in my bag and opened my bedroom door.
Mother was putting my French toast on a plate and placing it on the counter. I looked at her while I sat down, I was cautious. I didn't want to make her angry. She could've lost her mind at any moment.
I finished breakfast. Mother was sleeping on the couch. Tom was working, he wouldn't be off work until 7 pm and still he might not even get home until tomorrow. I grabbed my bag, and put on my old, worn out converse. I was only thinking about Ryan, I hurried to lace up my shoes. I looked on the door, there was a note from Mother. I looked at her motionless body laying on the couch. She could've been a happy, she didn't have to be trapped in this house like I. She was like me; felt like you didn't have a choice anymore. Did what you were told, and still could be punished.
I read what the note said. “Have a good day, get your work done. If you were smart you wouldn't come home tonight, go to a friends house. Tom wont be coming home tonight. I'll see you tomorrow.”
Mother knew that I was good in school; knew that things at home weren't affecting my school work. It was just affecting my body, my mind, how I thought of things.
I grabbed the note off of the door; stuck it in my bag. I smiled at Mother before I walked to catch the bus in the winter cold.