The truth about RidgeChester

How sports keep you grounded chapter 2 (swimming)

Cody leaned over the edge of the pool, breathing deeply. His hands were shaking and he felt dizzy, so he knew either his diabetes was messing up, or he was pushing himself too hard.

'Damn it. Fuck this shit.' He ignored his bodies’ warnings and took off again, going as fast as he could to do another few 100 yards.

A couple 100's later and he was back at the end of the pool, breathing heavy.

'Damn Damn Damn! Not good enough.' He went back down and continued his laps, trying his hardest to forget everything but the burning in his chest. By now, he knew it was his diabetes that was messing up, and he knew if he continued, he'd drown.

'Fuck Fuck Fuck' He thought. No matter how hard he tried or how fast he swam the thoughts corrupted his mind.

His dad, the last living member of his immediate family, had died only a few hours ago.

Cody hit the edge of the pool and flipped off, deciding quickly to see how long he could last without coming up for breath.

He ignored the burning in his chest a bit more, and pushed himself harder.

It wasn't that big of a surprise really. His dad was a drunk, and there was no nice way to say it. Cody always knew it'd be his end. His father's drinking problem would eventually leave him to OD, or perhaps, he'd decided he was useless in his drunken state and commit suicide. Cody didn't know how his father was going to die, but he knew it'd be related to alcohol. Cody only wished there was some sort of warning. But instead, today was just like any other day, excluding those two police officers that came to his door at 6 as opposed to his drunken father.

The officers quickly escorted Cody into his own house and broke the news to him.

His father had been drinking too much. He crashed head on into a truck while going the wrong way on the highway. He was smashed, and they believed the cause was because he'd just gotten fired from his job.

It didn't take long for a new theory to appear though. The officers weren't blind; they could obviously see the scattered beer bottles and cigarette buds all over the place. It didn't take a genius to figure out that Cody's environment hadn't been the best; and it wasn't rocket science to figure out that Cody was slightly stoned when they entered the building too.

It was a ritual Cody followed. Around 5:30 he took a couple hits and waited for his Dad to come beat him.

His father would come in, look at him with disgust, and order him to get a blanket. Cody would give him the already retrieved blanket and his father would nearly suffocate him in it as he hit him relentlessly over and over again.

'Damn' Cody took a deep breath, emerging his head from the pool. He was thinking too much again. The idea was to come here to free his thoughts, not drown in them.

But underwater you couldn't hide from your thoughts. They pierced through the silence and corrupted the calm atmosphere. But that was part of the reason Cody liked it.

At home there were too bad many memories. He could always imagine his mother in the house; she seemed to live in every corner. Sometime he could hear her voice asking him if he finished his homework, or telling him to do his chores. Other times, he could smell her. It was like the drugs and alcohol mixed together perfectly and created a chemical called 'Mom.' 

But Cody didn't miss his mom that much, despite his frequent imaginations. In fact, part of the reason he hated the house was because her memories were in it. The times she smiled with them, and laughed with them, all as if her mind wasn't on that douche-bag Charlie that she'd abandoned them for.