On the Other Side
Side Effects
The bus soon stopped at the front of his neighborhood. A small poor little place next to downtown Chicago. As he walked down the road he got a glimpse of his house, a small single level house with curtained windows and dead grass. He inhaled deeply as he made his way up the steps to enter his residence. The smell of cigarette smoke immediately hit him, not affecting him. He was used to the smell, he had been breathing it in ever since he was four. He sat down on the broken couch and turned on the television, hoping that his parents wouldn't acknowledge him.
There was yelling in the kitchen, and then a shatter. Jordan rolled his eyes and got up, but not fast enough. "Sit your ass down," a gruff voice growled. Jordan turned around to see his father, Max Brewster, holding a bottle of whiskey and glaring at him. Jordan slowly made his way back onto the couch. "You got anything to say to me, Jor?" His father took another swig of the amber colored liquid. As Max bent down to face his son, Jordan's eyes watered because Max's breath was so smitten with alcohol, you could almost taste it. Jordan opened his mouth but before he could say anything, his father punched him in the nose.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing, eh?" Jordan put a hand up to his nose, feeling the warmth of his very own blood spill over his hand. "I-I tried to-" another punch. This time in the stomach. Jordan gagged and looked into his father's cruel eyes. "I think you might just have to go in timeout for a bit," murmured his father. Jordan shook his head rapidly as his father pulled him upright and dragged him to the basement door. Jordan tried to get out of his father's grasp, but his arm was wrapped tightly around Jordan, so he couldn't yank himself free. As his father opened the door leading into the pitch black abyss, Jordan begged his father not to lock him down there. Max ignored the boy's cries and threw him down the stairs. Jordan awoke hours later in the darkness. There as he sat alone, he began to cry, silent tears rolling down his cheek.
There was yelling in the kitchen, and then a shatter. Jordan rolled his eyes and got up, but not fast enough. "Sit your ass down," a gruff voice growled. Jordan turned around to see his father, Max Brewster, holding a bottle of whiskey and glaring at him. Jordan slowly made his way back onto the couch. "You got anything to say to me, Jor?" His father took another swig of the amber colored liquid. As Max bent down to face his son, Jordan's eyes watered because Max's breath was so smitten with alcohol, you could almost taste it. Jordan opened his mouth but before he could say anything, his father punched him in the nose.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing, eh?" Jordan put a hand up to his nose, feeling the warmth of his very own blood spill over his hand. "I-I tried to-" another punch. This time in the stomach. Jordan gagged and looked into his father's cruel eyes. "I think you might just have to go in timeout for a bit," murmured his father. Jordan shook his head rapidly as his father pulled him upright and dragged him to the basement door. Jordan tried to get out of his father's grasp, but his arm was wrapped tightly around Jordan, so he couldn't yank himself free. As his father opened the door leading into the pitch black abyss, Jordan begged his father not to lock him down there. Max ignored the boy's cries and threw him down the stairs. Jordan awoke hours later in the darkness. There as he sat alone, he began to cry, silent tears rolling down his cheek.