Defying Gravity

I tried to speak to him, but he wouldn't answer, and he wouldn't come out from behind his locked bedroom door. So, as much as I didn't want to, I left. He needed some space, and I needed to get home. Maybe I could sneak up to my room and pretend like I had been there the whole night, instead of staying at Riley's. Ya, right. My father was stupid, but not that stupid.

Before I knew it, I was standing in front of my own dump of a house. It was less than half the size of Riley's, and not nearly as attractive. The dark brown shutters stood out horribly against the filthy green of the walls, and one was hanging crookedly, it's supporting nail having disappeared long before my father and I arrived. The sidewalk on which I stepped lay cracked and battered, years of misuse and heavy rains having destroyed it long ago. I climbed the mismatched brick stairs and pulled open the rickety screen door, before opening the dark, wooden one beyond that, and stepping in.

I could immediately sense it, his presence I mean. The scent of cigarettes filled my nostrils so heavily that I had to cover my mouth in an attempt not to cough. I took a step, my foot catching on something, and my lanky legs mixing up with one another, sending me to the hard floor. I landed on my bad arm, and had to bite my lip to keep from yelling out. Looking behind me, I found the culprit to be a half-empty bottle of Bud Light, it's contents spilling and mixing with the dirt that coated the floor.

"Night?" A voice called from somewhere in another room. I didn't dare answer.

I picked myself up from the floor, ignoring the ache in my arm, and quickly climbed the stairs to my bedroom. Normally, I wouldn't run from him. Running showed weakness, and I wasn't weak, but I had never defied him so much before, and he was sure to be angry. He would be so angry...

Too caught up in thought, I hadn't felt his presence, and by the time I realized he was there, it was too late. A hand wrapped around my ankle, pulling me down, my face making contact with the unforgiving wooden stairs. I whirled around, kicking fiercely at him, doing my best to get away, but he grabbed my other leg and pulled me down the rest of the steps. My shirt lifted, and the friction of the wood against my back cut the skin in jagged little slices too small for stitches, but just large enough to bleed.

"You little fucker!" He shouted, grabbing me by the front of my shirt and pinning me against the wall, snarling hateful words at me all the while. I could smell the beer on his breath, and it made my hair stand on end. Liquor made him intoxicated and too drunk to do much damage, but beer, now that was a different story.

I didn't say anything. I just let him have his way, mentally tearing me down with every punch he delivered to my abdomen. I was winded, and my breath came out in pitiful little heaves that only succeeded in making him smile wider. He enjoyed this. He enjoyed every fucking ounce of pain he inflicted upon me; his son, his offspring, the only pathetic excuse for a family that he had.

"You were at his house again, weren't you? I told you. I fucking told you, Night!" He yelled, fisting his hands in my shirt and slamming me repeatedly in to the hard surface of the wall.

"How dare you not come home!"

He continued on, but I tuned him out. Not really by choice. I just couldn't hear him anymore, I couldn't feel him anymore. His hand gripping my bad arm, my limp body making contact with the hard linoleum; I was numb to all of it. My ears rung, my vision blurred, and I faintly remember seeing the color red before everything went hazy and then disappeared in one swift motion. I was thrust in to an endless spiral of black, an eternal darkness. As the last remaining shards of light disappeared, I felt myself whisper pitifully to the man standing victorious over me.

"You sadistic bastard."