Sequel: Running With Scissors ›
Those Worse Off Than You
Part 89 [Ace's POV]
I sighed and breathed heavily. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. It was as if there were weighs on my chest, trying to keep me from breathing. Breathing was something you needed to think about; something you needed to concentrate on.
Dr. Green, or as I knew him, Jeff, adjusted his thin-rimmed glasses and looked down at me sympathetically; like a dog. He asked, "So Ace, what do you want to talk about today?"
"My dad," I answered, without hesitation or question.
"What about him?"
I waitied. Concentrating on the pulse of my blood, hidden inside twisted veins. Inhale, exhale. "He... he was killed last night. It's really quite ironic- he was drving drunk again," I said as a twisted smirk appeared on my face. I felt sick.
"Tell me about it."
"Well," I began uncomfortably, trying my best to shift my frail figure in another possition. "You already know about how he started drinking after my mom died."
I paused only long enough to see his nod before I continued, "Well... he used to get into his car and drive off. Any time of day. It didn't matter if it was four in the morning, or four in the afternoon. He would just take off. It would be as short as ten minutes, or a few days. But something always happened; he always came back with something. Whether it be drugs, or vandalism on the news... or blood."
I sounded evil- I really did. Like the narrator of a horror film. I continued.
"It went on for a long time. Until a few months ago, when he came hoem with blood on the hood of his car in the middle of the night for the first time. I snuck around, cleaning it up- making sure no one would find out. And I hoped to God that it was from a deer. Turns out, that wasn't the case. I switched on the news the next day to find out a boy had been killed in a hit-and-run accident. I was scared to death. That boy was only my age... and he was killed on the way home from a friend's house."
I paused.
"Does this boy have some sort of signifigance," Jeff asked.
I opened my mouth, but only a whine came out; a whimper.
Dr. Green, or as I knew him, Jeff, adjusted his thin-rimmed glasses and looked down at me sympathetically; like a dog. He asked, "So Ace, what do you want to talk about today?"
"My dad," I answered, without hesitation or question.
"What about him?"
I waitied. Concentrating on the pulse of my blood, hidden inside twisted veins. Inhale, exhale. "He... he was killed last night. It's really quite ironic- he was drving drunk again," I said as a twisted smirk appeared on my face. I felt sick.
"Tell me about it."
"Well," I began uncomfortably, trying my best to shift my frail figure in another possition. "You already know about how he started drinking after my mom died."
I paused only long enough to see his nod before I continued, "Well... he used to get into his car and drive off. Any time of day. It didn't matter if it was four in the morning, or four in the afternoon. He would just take off. It would be as short as ten minutes, or a few days. But something always happened; he always came back with something. Whether it be drugs, or vandalism on the news... or blood."
I sounded evil- I really did. Like the narrator of a horror film. I continued.
"It went on for a long time. Until a few months ago, when he came hoem with blood on the hood of his car in the middle of the night for the first time. I snuck around, cleaning it up- making sure no one would find out. And I hoped to God that it was from a deer. Turns out, that wasn't the case. I switched on the news the next day to find out a boy had been killed in a hit-and-run accident. I was scared to death. That boy was only my age... and he was killed on the way home from a friend's house."
I paused.
"Does this boy have some sort of signifigance," Jeff asked.
I opened my mouth, but only a whine came out; a whimper.