Scream

Joshua was sitting on the couch doing his homework when the he heard the front door slam. He turned to see his brother, Davis, rushing to throw his shoes off and run toward the living room.

"What's going on Davis?" Joshua asked, frantically throwing his books into his backpack.

"Go upstairs. Dad got home when I got to the door and he didn't look very happy. Lock your door and sit in the closet like I told you to, and don't make any noise. He doesn't know you're home and I want to keep it that way."

The look in his 17-year-old brothers eyes told him he wasn't kidding. So he threw his backpack over his shoulder and ran up the stairs to his room as fast as his short legs would let him.

He heard the door open and close again as he opened the door to his room, being met with the warm air of the heat vent turning on.

"What the fuck, Davis." He heard his father shout, followed by the thud of the fridge closing.
He probably took another beer.

Joshua shut his door, put his backpack on his bed, and tip-toed over to his closet and opened the door, moving the clothes aside to reveal a small corner in the back that allowed him to hide.

He didn't usually hear any screaming while he was sitting here, and he thinks that's why Davis told him to hide there, though he'd never tell him that.

"I-I'm sorry dad. I um, I just got home."

"Don't stutter. It makes you sound like a fucking dip-shit." That's when their father would take a swig of his beer and sit down at the table, waiting for someone to start cooking dinner.

He always expected it to be done when he got home.

"Yeah well, get fucking started. I had a long day."

"Right. Sorry sir." Both Joshua and his brother had learned over the past year to call him sir when he was like this. He was less likely to get mad.

"Where's your brother?" Joshua's eyes widened at the sound of his father's voice. He usually didn't give a shit as to where the other sibling was. But tonight was clearly different.

And there was nothing Davis could say to him to save his little brother, and Joshua knew that.

"U-upstairs."

The bottle slammed on to the table, and Joshua prayed to whoever would listen to just make him disappear.

"And he wasn't fucking down here making dinner?" Their father was screaming. The screech of the chair against the wood floor of the kitchen let Joshua know his father was coming upstairs.

"No! Sir, he got home w-when I did." Davis' voice got quieter, "I told him I'd make dinner tonight."

Joshua heard his father sigh heavily. Maybe he wouldn't be in pain tonight.

"Dad, where are you uhm, going?"

"Going upstairs 'ya little shit! Wha' did 'ya think I was doing?!"

Joshua heard a loud slam, and a quiet whimper of pain. A slam of glass followed, and then the familiar sound of skin-hitting-skin.

Joshua coward into the corner of the closet, hoping that maybe his father would pass his room and go right into his own.

He heard loud stomps traveling up the walls from the bottom of the staircase, each one of them getting generally louder as time went on, and it felt as though it was forever before his father reached the top of the staircase.

"You little fucking shit." he whispered, Joshua hearing the footsteps stop outside his door.

There was a loud banging from his fathers fist on the door, and Joshua felt his body begin to shake with fear, much like it usually did when his father was like this.

The door knob began to wiggle slightly, and soon enough the door was shot open.

"Come the fuck out Joshua. You and I need to have a fucking talk."

Joshua shuddered at the memory of his father three years ago.

That was the night Davis had to bring him to the hospital because his father kicked him in the ribs, breaking two of them.

That was also the same night his lip got split open, and when the nurse asked what happened, they had told her that Joshua had fallen down a flight of stairs after tripping on a text book sitting outside his room.

People at school never asked Joshua what was wrong, or what happened at home.

His teachers hated his father, and sometimes his chemistry teacher would tell him to 'hang out with friends' on the weekends because he feared Joshua would get hurt more if he was at home.

Except today was different.

Joshua was scared shit less of going home today more than usual because that morning before leaving, his father asked him if he was gay.

And when Joshua answered with a stuttered yes, his father slammed his coffee cup on the table, breaking it in the process.

He knew that the moment he stepped foot in that door this afternoon, his father would hit him. And he didn't want that today.

"'Eyy! Joshy!" Joshua turned from putting his books in his locker that he didn't need for the weekend to see his friend, Grant, running toward him.

"So, Jen told me what happened this morning. Do you want to just stay at my house tonight?" Grant looked at him with a sympathetic smile, knowing Joshua really didn't care that Jen had said something to him.

Grant's brother was home for the weekend from college, and last Joshua checked he kinda liked the way Grant's brother looked, and he was positive he'd embarrass himself if he was anywhere near the older boy.

"I mean, that's alright if you don't. But we both know you really don't want to go home."

Grant's eyes bore into his, and he knew he should just say yes for the slightly younger boys sake.

"I guess. But I mean, he'll get angry if I don't tell him, and he'll be mad if I do tell him."

Joshua fiddled with the string hanging from his Bring Me The Horizon t-shirt and looked at his Converse in discomfort.

"Oh. Well. Either way Joshy, he's gonna' get mad." Grant rubbed the back of his neck, something he always did when he was un-easy.

Joshua sighed, "Fine. Just follow me home so I can drop my car off?"

Grant smiled, nodding at his friend and led him toward the parking lot.

Maybe Joshua could just forget about everything for a night.

Because a dose of happiness sounded really appealing to him right about now.