Short Stories

My father is practically a crackhead

Guys I'm so annoyed with myself. This is the supposed prologue of one of my stories and the first draft was okay but the improvements I made were so much better. It's still not amazing but I enjoyed reading it after leaving it for a while. But I lost a lot of the improvements so I only have the first bit of it 😭 I'm going to shove it here anyway with the improved half and the unimproved half of this chapter because I have no effort to complete it right now to be completely honest lol. Enjoy :)

The sharp breeze lashed at my face, stinging my red-tinged cheeks, making me pull my jacket closer to my body. I kept my head low, burying into my jacket in an attempt to preserve body heat. The icy curb made my thighs turn numb. I would have rubbed them if I were brave enough to remove my cold, bruised hands from the warmth of my jacket. Instead however, I pulled my knees up to my chest, feeling sorry for myself.

It's as if trouble is attracted to me; the fights I'd been in the past few months were uncountable. I couldn't understand why people picked on me, I was not my father. I wanted to be stronger, and I wanted to protect myself. Father doesn't listen though, he's too busy with work, apparently. Its infuriating, is it really so hard to spend some time with your son?
He's late. Again. I thought. I struggled with my numb fingers to take my small, cracked phone out of my trouser pocket. I scrolled through my contacts, squinting my eyes as if it would help me identify the word "Father" behind the broken screen. Just before I had the chance to dial the number, the screen went black and I heard the power off sound. Just my luck.

I stood out of boredom and began to pace along the pavement to keep warm. Maybe he forgot? I wondered as I imagined him locked in the basement, absorbed in his experiments and work. My father was a scientist, unemployed due to his eccentric nature. He's crazy, for lack of better word. He has no time for his son, and leeches off of his wife's love for him, bringing him food and paying for his resources even in his emotional absence in our lives.

Finally I could hear the faint sound of a car nearby, praying it was my father so I could be saved from the cold. The car swerved around a bend in the road at a terrifyingly high speed and I stood back on the pavement as it abruptly stopped in front of where I stood. Father didn't look at me as I got in.

Immediately he drove off again, the sudden movement causing me to be momentarily choked by my seatbelt. For a while we sat in silence, until I looked over to him and my heart dropped. His hair was dishevelled, his eyes wide, skin as white as snow. He was gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were white, and he hardly moved except to blink.

'Dad?' I let out in a strained breath. He did not move.

My stomach did flips as I became nervous, wary of the speed we were travelling.

'Dad please slow down.' I said, louder. He turned towards me and I jumped, his beady eyes staring into my soul. He looked at me for a moment, paying no attention to the road until he replied.

'You're the one that dragged me out here' he mumbled, then returned to looking at the road.

By this point his foot was on the floor; we were going so fast I couldn't identify where we were. A lump formed in my throat and tears threatened to fall- I was terrified.

'Dad please, pull over!' I pleaded, but he did not respond. My heart thumped furiously in my chest, my anxiety suffocating me.

'Stop getting into fights boy, I can't afford to keep leaving work to get you!'

'You don't have a job! What do you even do!?' I took frantic breaths,

(This is where the edit ended and the original is honestly a mess, not even close to the storyline I'm going for)