Cursed silence (MAJOR EDITING IN PROGRESS + ON HOLD)

[ 7 ] genesis

Zach

Three years ago.

Finally. School is over. If I could drop out from school, I would. Nothing is worse than getting beat up for no reason every day, near your locker. I don't scream or shout because that'd only show how weak I am. Which is just as bad as letting them get away with it. It being whatever they do.

Today is monday. Which means two things. Pizza night, and...my dad coming home drunk. I really don't like the second part but well, it's of no use telling the incorrigible to correct themselves, is it? In the end you're the one who's getting hurt, and that's when you realise it's all a waste of time and energy. 

I don't really like thinking about my dad drunk because, really? Who would like to see their parent so drunk that he doesn't have feelings? So to avoid that, I go to bed before he comes home. I remember the first day he came like that and started hitting my mom. Not a pleasant sight.

I used to have a ride back home but now, I walk back home. I used to go along with Jordan, the guy who beats me every time and is the main reason I'm never in a good mood. I used to talk to his mom a lot. She seemed pretty friendly and nice, quite unlike her son. I guess he was a troublemaker at home too, because every day in school he'd give me dirty looks and also on the way back home.

Then one day, I was going to the nurse's room (I was hit by the basketball on my hand, later she informed I had a fracture) and his whole gang followed me there. The class was far from the nurse's too which meant I had to walk a lot to reach there. As I was about to turn right and climb the stairs, one of his friends caught me and took (more like dragged/hauled) me to the janitors closet and locked me up for good in there. After that I never went on a ride with him. So now, I'm just walking to my place.

It takes about 45 minutes the school to my house so I usually have dinner on some fast food corner. I eat light so that I can eat more pizza during supper.

I reach my house and hear really strange noises, which isn't usual as my mother is pregnant with my future brother/sister (though I really hope its the first one) and would be sleeping. I open the door and find out she isn't asleep after all and that's not all.

My dad is also there, as drunk as a man can get. I stop there and drop my bag, my mouth open at what was happening there. My dad was slurring all horrible things at her, things one wouldn't imagine one's dad could say.

"You...don't want...ME...to drink...right? RIGHT? ANSWER ME!" he screams.

"N..nn.n...no.o.o...o," my mother says, stammering with fear.

"MOM! WHAT'S GOING ON HERE? WHAT'S HE DOING TO YOU?" I yell, without even knowing why I did that.

"G-gg-go-o," she says, sniffling.

I run upstairs, hot tears streaming down my cheeks after a long, long time. My shell broke, after having too much to handle. Thirteen is definitely not the age for a kid to see his father drunk.

I run towards my room and once I'm in, I slam the door shut. I cry for a long time, I don't exactly remember how long, until I slowly walk over to a drawer. Each step I took, filled me with a sort of fear. My motives ran on cowardice, yet I couldn't bring myself to do it.

After standing in between my bed and the drawer, sniffling the entire time, I decided it's better to feel the pain, than the hollow emptiness in me.

At least I can control the physical pain. I can make myself believe I'm stronger, when I'm not. I can put in my focus to the pain I inflict on myself rather than the pain faced by the people I love. I need a distraction.