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Chapter Seven :Dad (Joey's POV)
I walked into my house, hoping for the very best. Which I knew I wouldn’t get. And I was right. I walked right into a house filled with the discussing stench of alcohol, and smoke.
I peered around the house that was clouded with cigarette smoke, looking for my drunken father. I knew my mother wouldn’t be home, she rarely was anymore. Always giving me an excuse on why she wasn’t around, it’s always, ‘Late night at the office baby, I’m sorry,’ or "Sweetie, I’m staying in a hotel tonight, I need to get up early for work tomorrow and its such a far drive.’ I grunted as I found my father, asleep, with a lit cigarette in his hand, dangling dangerously close to the floor, that was covered with newspaper.
“Ugh, do you want this house to burn down!” I shouted, just a bit to loud. He stirred awake, an angry scowl creasing his face.
“Boy, where been you!” he slurred, standing, up with shaky legs. I snatched the cigarette from his hands, no way I was leaving him with something to burn me with. “Said I boy where were you!”
I grunted, walking away from the insane man I called father, it was no use ruining the day I got Emma back. I could here his heavy footsteps behind me, as I walked casually toward my room, “Boy, answer, me, me,” He growled, clasping his hand on my shoulder. I shook him off, easily, just a few more feet and I would be in my room, the only room i could escape to.
“Joseph Claaaaaay Brewsrer,” He slurred, grabbing onto my arm, flinging me around. Without a second though, I struck the drunken man in the jaw, using all of my strength. It took him a second to realize I had punched him in the face, but when he did, he swung back, missing me miserably due to the fact that he was drunk.
I raced to my room, and closed the door. With the flick of my wrist, I locked my door. Frowning, I slid down my door, and put my face in my hands. Jesus, why is my life so very messed up?! Why couldn’t my life be simpler? Like my friend Matt’s? His parents were together, happy, sober, everything I wanted.
The same sensation that I felt when I first cut my wrist, began to creep into my mind. Without even thinking, I walked over to my wooden dresser and pulled out a small, pocket knife I had gotten as a Boy Scout. I raised the knife to my wrist, but before I releaced anymore pressure, I thought of Emma.
She would be disappointed if I did that, and I did not want to disappoint her more than I already have. With a shaky hand, I dropped the blade to the floor. Still shaking a bit, I walked to my bed, and laid down. I stared up at my room, the few stars that glow in the dark shone brightly in my dimly lit room. After a few minutes, I heard angry banging on my door, “Joe, Come here out now!” He shouted, banging harder on the door.
Fearing that he could get in, and that he had something, I slid off of my bed, and opened my window. Feeling lucky that my bedroom was on the first floor of my home, I jumped. My feet hit the ground hard, sending a ping of pain up my leg. I shook it off, and began to run down the street, toward Emma’s house.
Once at Emma’s house, I climbed the small ladder, that was supose to be decoration, but I had nailed them in so Emma could get out whenever she wanted, up to Emma’s window. I pushed, the unlocked window and carefully crept into her bedroom. “God, I feel like a creep,” I whispered to myself, as I laid down on her bed.
A few minutes later, Emma walked in and said, “Joey Brewer, what are you doing here?” She asked, closing her door. She quickly came to sit by me.
“My dad,” I whispered, looking out of the window. She wrapped her tiny arms around me and whispered in my ear.
Stay here tonight, but you have to leave before my mom gets up, okay?"
“Sure Emma,” I whispered, turning around so that I was now facing her beautiful face, and eyes, “But I think I should be holding onto you while we sleep,” I added with a weak smile. She quickly flashed a smile, before she turned over. I wrapped my arms around her, and almost instantly, feel asleep. Feeling safe for the fist time in months.
I peered around the house that was clouded with cigarette smoke, looking for my drunken father. I knew my mother wouldn’t be home, she rarely was anymore. Always giving me an excuse on why she wasn’t around, it’s always, ‘Late night at the office baby, I’m sorry,’ or "Sweetie, I’m staying in a hotel tonight, I need to get up early for work tomorrow and its such a far drive.’ I grunted as I found my father, asleep, with a lit cigarette in his hand, dangling dangerously close to the floor, that was covered with newspaper.
“Ugh, do you want this house to burn down!” I shouted, just a bit to loud. He stirred awake, an angry scowl creasing his face.
“Boy, where been you!” he slurred, standing, up with shaky legs. I snatched the cigarette from his hands, no way I was leaving him with something to burn me with. “Said I boy where were you!”
I grunted, walking away from the insane man I called father, it was no use ruining the day I got Emma back. I could here his heavy footsteps behind me, as I walked casually toward my room, “Boy, answer, me, me,” He growled, clasping his hand on my shoulder. I shook him off, easily, just a few more feet and I would be in my room, the only room i could escape to.
“Joseph Claaaaaay Brewsrer,” He slurred, grabbing onto my arm, flinging me around. Without a second though, I struck the drunken man in the jaw, using all of my strength. It took him a second to realize I had punched him in the face, but when he did, he swung back, missing me miserably due to the fact that he was drunk.
I raced to my room, and closed the door. With the flick of my wrist, I locked my door. Frowning, I slid down my door, and put my face in my hands. Jesus, why is my life so very messed up?! Why couldn’t my life be simpler? Like my friend Matt’s? His parents were together, happy, sober, everything I wanted.
The same sensation that I felt when I first cut my wrist, began to creep into my mind. Without even thinking, I walked over to my wooden dresser and pulled out a small, pocket knife I had gotten as a Boy Scout. I raised the knife to my wrist, but before I releaced anymore pressure, I thought of Emma.
She would be disappointed if I did that, and I did not want to disappoint her more than I already have. With a shaky hand, I dropped the blade to the floor. Still shaking a bit, I walked to my bed, and laid down. I stared up at my room, the few stars that glow in the dark shone brightly in my dimly lit room. After a few minutes, I heard angry banging on my door, “Joe, Come here out now!” He shouted, banging harder on the door.
Fearing that he could get in, and that he had something, I slid off of my bed, and opened my window. Feeling lucky that my bedroom was on the first floor of my home, I jumped. My feet hit the ground hard, sending a ping of pain up my leg. I shook it off, and began to run down the street, toward Emma’s house.
Once at Emma’s house, I climbed the small ladder, that was supose to be decoration, but I had nailed them in so Emma could get out whenever she wanted, up to Emma’s window. I pushed, the unlocked window and carefully crept into her bedroom. “God, I feel like a creep,” I whispered to myself, as I laid down on her bed.
A few minutes later, Emma walked in and said, “Joey Brewer, what are you doing here?” She asked, closing her door. She quickly came to sit by me.
“My dad,” I whispered, looking out of the window. She wrapped her tiny arms around me and whispered in my ear.
Stay here tonight, but you have to leave before my mom gets up, okay?"
“Sure Emma,” I whispered, turning around so that I was now facing her beautiful face, and eyes, “But I think I should be holding onto you while we sleep,” I added with a weak smile. She quickly flashed a smile, before she turned over. I wrapped my arms around her, and almost instantly, feel asleep. Feeling safe for the fist time in months.
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