10) Home again home again

All I can feel is pain as flashlights burn my corneas. I try to cover my half open eyes, but the inch that my hand does move is enough to send me back into darkness.

I can feel myself being carried, hurting my body with every footstep as the blurry outline of my house becomes visible. Looking up I see two police officers dragging my aching body. I close my eyes again.

I’m lying down now, a single light illuminating the living room. Muffled voices are talking, and I can hear my father among them. After a minute I hear the front door close and he enters the room a moment later, taking a seat across from the couch I’m lying on. My eyes are barely open, but from his movement I can tell that he’s drunk again.

I don’t want to deal with him right now, but I know that he’ll sit there until I ‘wake up’, and if I don’t then he’ll hit me. Reluctantly I moan as my face scrunches in pain. “Getting inta fights again, huh?” he slurs slightly.

“Get off my back, old man. I’ve been through enough shit today.” I reply through gritted teeth.

“Oh I see, and so did the cop who found you in passed out in a ditch.” He gets up and looms over me for a moment before his hand comes down and slaps me across the face. It hurts my already damaged head, but I don’t make a sound. “WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT FIGHTING YOU LITTLE SHIT!”

“Same thing I told you about drinking and picking up cheap whores.”

He grabs me by the front of my shirt and drags me off the couch, tossing me a few feet away, “Its wise-ass cracks like that that get you in trouble, you know that.”

I want to respond, but I know that I can’t take much more of this. My vision has blurred already and even breathing hurts. I push myself up unwillingly and lean against a wall for support. Slowly I make my way out of the room, dragging my feet the entire way. “Oh, just gunna run away like always. Ain’t gunna man up to anything this time. Steal something, or did you just feel like fighting again? Kill someone?”

“Shut up, old man.” I mumble, but he doesn’t hear.

“How many times do I have to tell you, you little shithead, one day you’re going to look in the mirror, and you’re going to see the truth staring right back at you. That smart-mouth of yours is going to push someone to far one day.” I’m out of the living room now and making my way up the stairs slowly, but he just keeps yelling as I try to block him out. “You come home like a dog with his tail between his legs. Tell me something, are you proud of yourself? Huh? ARE YOU PROUD YOU LITTLE SHITHEAD? I can see your eighteenth birthday already. You’re going to get the shit kicked out of you, but you’re not going to have a home to back to. Just a few more months and I’m free of this hell-hole.”

“Shut up.” I mumble again, only a few more stairs to go.

“In nineteen years, that’s going to be the happiest day of my life. Getting rid of you and that selfish bitch.” Finally I reach the top step and make my way to my room as quickly as my legs will carry me. I slam the door and lock it, but can still hear him yelling “ARE YOU PROUD?” for a few minutes before everything goes silent. Hopefully he’s passed out already.

I lay on my bead, not having the energy nor caring enough to take my clothes off as I push his words out of my head. Reaching out I hit a button and a second later music starts blaring out of the radio. It’s set to turn off after awhile, so it doesn’t matter if I fall asleep or not.

I let the pounding music engulf me as I try my hardest to clear my mind, remembering only what happened today at the royal court.

Sarah’s dead. Everyone else is free. Sand. Fighting with Bobby. Completely losing control. Bobby’s bloody face… and then… more sand… and…

My eyes shoot open as I remember. Somebody attacked me after everybody left and… I feel the outside of my pocket. Nothing.

“No.” I groan as panic rises within me. My other pocket is likewise empty. Nothing.

I realize my deck is gone as I remember hearing the thief behind me, right before he attacked… he chuckled.

#?”:#!)&#!&#?!#”:#!)&+&#!&#&(#!+#

Yeah, told he said that his dad was an abusive alcoholic, and I added a little forewarning in chapter 6 (clone said that he was thrown in a closet).

Hope you all enjoyed my story and keep an eye out for my sequel (who’s name I haven't thought of yet) in the future.