Toxic Us.

:C:

I couldn’t sleep, and my father couldn’t because I was awake.

And I guess it meant if I was awake I could die and he couldn’t sleep for that reason. So we both remained splayed out over the couch. He actually allowed me to drink scotch with him, he didn’t often. It was only those empty, bad days when he miss Mom or life was getting hard again that he ever allowed me the privilege; I guess this meant life was getting hard again.

A knock echoed through the house, filling in the numb silence. I walked to the door; scotch in hand my father tracing my footsteps following me with each breath. I opened it finding Mike standing outside; he had a certain expression of sympathetic horror.

I think that might have been why I heard hear my father downing the hardcore liquor like a small shot before pulling Mike inside. We rested back on the couch, pouring him too a scotch before actually looking at him head on. He had this look, in his hazel eyes that told us we needed to say something anything.

But he beat us too it.

“I hit him, I hit him so hard and it felt fucking incredible. He hit me back and I blocked it, I’d gotten stronger than him. Mum wouldn’t stop crying and crying yelling at us to stop. But neither of us would, or maybe it was just me that wouldn’t stop I don’t know, all I could really tell is that I couldn’t feel the pain when he hit me anymore Curtis, I couldn’t feel anything. It was like I was numb so numb and I couldn't feel it when he spat the words at me anymore. I couldn't feel it when he it me, i could only feel when I would land my punches. I can only hear the cries and the sounds and the blood.”

It was like a trigger had been pulled and he couldn’t stop the fear filled words from leaving his lips.

 “I’m sorry Mum, I’m sorry. I couldn’t stop seeing red and hearing the crying and it just keeps coming Curtis, when is it going to stop? When is it going to stop?” He paused breathing heavily; I looked down at his hands underneath crimson caking his knuckles would be purple bruises. I knew there would be.

But what surprised me was when my father sat down next to him and started to talk with surprising wisdom considering the amount of alcohol he’d drained from his glass tonight.

“You’ll stop seeing it all Mike, I promise” He paused putting a broad hand on the now weeping boy’s back “I stopped seeing it, and you will too. We all do eventually when they can no longer hurt us, we all do”

He looked at me and I think he knew that people couldn’t just hurt you.

No, you could hurt yourself.