Between Lies and Promises

Will You Step In This Life and Take Control
Post Song;; Procrastinating by Stellar Kart

It wasn’t necessarily that I was a liar. I just…exaggerated everything a little bit. I was an exaggerator. And I was good at it. It was something I used to pride myself over. Maybe that’s a bad thing…but it used to be necessary, lying to keep people from knowing things…maybe I should start over. Let you try and understand what has been going wrong with my life that you just can’t think of.

My name is Jason Drescher. If you live within the perimeter of Blackthorne Estates, or attend Brooks Academy, I’m sure you know me. Or you’ve at least heard of me. Most likely. This might sound like I’m a stuck-up preppy ass.

But that’s only a part I play. At Brooks Academy I belong to the most popular group. No, I take that back. I lead the most popular group. Its not like I wanted to. It had just so happened that my girlfriend in seventh grade was the prettiest girl in our year. Kaytlen McMeyers. I began to hang out with her and her group, and then when she moved away in the middle of eighth grade, I took her place and led the group.

And once you’re in as yourself, its hard to get out without changing into someone else.

School life was far different from my home life. In eighth grade, the same year Kaytlen moved away, my father lost an opportunity to work with Christian Hanz, a famous director, in a new movie saga as the main character. Soon after, the first movie became a big hit and the guy that got my fathers part signed a contract for the next three movies in the series. Plus four separate movies.

My father was far past unhappy and blamed everyone but himself for the loss. Including me. Life was horrible. I was beaten daily. I began to distance myself from my friends and school activities. I let my student council vice president do all of the work. I let the sub quarter back play and stayed home, faux sick. Being out would mean risking someone seeing my many bruises and scars.

I never stood up to my father. Until the day he beat my mother. The car my father’s agent sent to pick me up after school managed to catch every red light. I didn’t mind though. Peter, my driver, had a new CD we were listening to. I stayed a few extra minutes in the car to finish the last couple of songs. Before I heard a crash in the house.

“Bye Pete. Thanks.” He handed me the CD through the window.

“Finish listening and tell me what ya think.” He tipped his hat at me and drove off down the winding drive.
I waved behind me as I ran to the house, thinking my father was simply on another rampage and I could disappear upstairs without being noticed.

I was half right. He was on another rampage. But one I couldn’t NOT get involved in.

As soon as I opened the door I saw my mother sliding across the front room, bigger than a hotel lobby by a few square feet. She slammed into the wall. But before I could run to her, my father stomped towards her and lifted his leg. As he was about to slam it down into her stomach, I tackled him. I stood and headed to my mother, squatting next to her. She smiled a tiny smile when she saw me.

“Oh, Jase.” She sighed, a few tears slipping down her face. I lightly touched a cut on her cheek, and kissed her hair before standing to face Scott. The person I would never again refer to as father.

“Jason, listen buddy.”

“Don’t call me that.” I hissed. “When you were hurting me, fine. I can handle that. But the moment you touch my mother, you’re fucked.”

“Watch your language son.” He warned.

“Fuck you.” I said, looking at him pointedly. I watched my mother pull herself carefully up to a sitting position, leaning weakly against the wall. His face twisted in anger and he headed towards me, obviously about to hit me.

He swung his fist, and in a Jackie Chan move, I caught his hand and thrust it away from my face.

“I think you need to leave Scott.” I growled.

“I’m your dad. Don’t call me Scott.

“No.” I breathed. “You are no longer my father. And you are no longer welcome here.”

Shaking with anger, he stomped towards the door, before slamming it so hard it didn’t have time to stay closed. It swung open again. I looked over my shoulder, watching my father walk away from me and my mother. I watched as a hand reached up to his face and wiped across it. As if he was crying. As if he had lost something.

All I knew, was that we had lost nothing.