Untouched

Christofer

I laid in my bed.

Sunday morning, my dad’s here.

All day.

“Christofer!” he yelled from the living room.

I slowly got up and limped into the living room.

“Yes” I whispered.

“Go make me a sandwich, bitch”

I winched at the word, he called everyone a bitch, but he said it differently to me.

Like I was really his bitch.

I walked into the kitchen and began making him a sandwich.

I placed it on a plate and grabbed a beer from the fridge.

I walked over to him and handed it to him.

“H-here you g-go” I mumbled.

He grabbed an other, empty beer and smashed it against my head, “Don’t fucking stutter.” he yelled.

I picked myself off the floor, I tasted the blood in my mouth.

“Yes sir” I said.

I began picking up the bottle, without begin asked to.

I finished and walked to my room.

I quickly cleaned my face and slipped out my window.

I walked down the street to the liquor store.
Holly’s Liquor store divided the run-down neighborhoods and the fancy ones.

I pushed the door open and I heard the jingle of the bells on the door.

I walked to the candy section and picked up and bag of sour patch kids.

I walked to the cash register, looking down at my feet.

I bumped into someone and fell to the floor.

“Shit” I mumbled.

“Let me help you” the voice said.

I looked up and noticed it was Oli.

Fuck.

“N-no t-thanks”

I stood up on my own and continued to the cash register.

I put my stuff on the counter.

“And a pack of cigarettes” I mumbled.

“What kind”

“Marlboro”

The man gave me a suspicious look.

I gave him a weak smile.

He put the pack on the counter and counted my total.

“7.95” he muttered.

I paid the money and walked out the store.

I went to the park across the street and sat on the grass underneath a tree.

I pulled out a cigarette and light it up and took a long drag.

I sighed in relief, oh how much I needed that.

“So you smoke too, huh?”

I looked up to Oli and rolled my eyes, taking an other drag.

“What happened to your head?” he asked reaching up to push my hair away from my eyes.

He looked into my eyes, then his warm brown eye traveled above my eye.

“W-what?” I asked.

“You have a gash there.” he whispered running his thumb over it.

I winced and looked away.

“Come on.” he said pulling me up by the arm.

I throw my cigarette to the floor and grabbed my candy.

He grabbed my stuff and placed it in his plastic bag.

“Let’s go.”

“W-where?” I asked.

He didn’t say anything just held my hand and lead the way toward the nicer neighborhoods.

We finally arrived at a beautiful home.

Kinda like a house that you see on those weird lifetime movies.

He lead me to the front door and slipped a key inside and lead me in.

We walked in and the living room which was right there, toward my left.

Tom Skyes sat on the couch, his legs kicked up on the coffee table. He flipped through channels then he turned to Oli and I.

“Oli, why do you bring in trash?” he asked, his accent thick and cruel.

“Shut it Tom” Oli said.

I looked down to my feet, I felt, out of place here.

This home was too fancy and too clean.

There was no beer bottles lingering around.

There was none of my dried blood on the carpet.

There was actual tangible furniture.

“Let’s go.” Oli said leading me toward a staircase to the right of the entrance.

We walked up the stairs and down the hall, not a normal tiny hall. But the hall was open to the bottom of them house we were just at.

He turned suddenly down an other hall.

There were only two doors.

One door said TOM on it, so I assumed it was Tom’s room.

The other was just a plain door.

Oli opened the door and lead me inside.

His room was Huge.

His walls were a dark gray color and a king size bed in the center.

He had a door that clearly lead to a bathroom.

He had a walk in close, the size of my fucking bedroom.

In total, he was clearly a son of a rich man.

“Let me clean that gash” Oli said taking my hand and leading me to the bathroom.

He picked me up, like I was weightless and set me on the counter.

He reached under his sink and pulled out a first aid kit.

He began cleaning out the gash above my eye.

“I’m sorry” he whispered focusing on my cut. “I didn’t mean to call you a fag, it was way out of line and uncalled for”

I looked up to him.

“It’s o-ok” I whispered.

It was silent as he finished cleaning it out.

“Say Christofer,” Oli whispered.

“Yea”

“Your too thin, stay for dinner?” he asked.

I smiled, a true smile and nodded my head.