I’m home?

I’m home! Thank god.

I should probably fix up this wound on my arm.

Great, no peroxide. Now I have to use the other shit…

FUCK, this shit burns.

I wrap some gauze around it, head over to the living room, lay down on the sofa and turn on the TV.

The back door opens.

“Dad? Is that you”?

“Yeah its me. What are you doing here, shouldn’t you been in school?”

“Its Saturday” I respond lamely, my mind focused on the TV.

“What the hell is the matter with you?! Its fucking Tuesday. God damnit, Your mother and me are sick to death of this shit”.

I don’t need to look at him to know he’s been drinking again. At six feet two inches tall 240 pounds, I was in no position to begin an argument with him. “I’m sorry, I just forgot, I’ll get my books and go”.

“NO. You sit right there”.

He heads off to the back room. I can’t see what he’s doing but I can hear him clearly.

“Yeah, this is Jack Alred, put my wife on……..Hey….Yeah, this fucking disgrace of a child of ours. Yeah, I’ve had it with him to. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it. Alright bye”.

I hear him go out the back door.

I have the best fucking timing. There’s no way it could be Tuesday, that would mean that I’ve been gone for like four days. Even my parents would have noticed me missing. Of course after our last conversation, the last thing they would want to think about would be me…….

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