Chippin' in

11 4 28
                                    

============================================================

Dillon South Carolina: 7:22PM 2006


============================================================

The sound of objects crashing onto a hard wood floor and broken glass could be heard from a small house. Feet thrashed against the floorboards as a brown-haired teen ran through the halls of his house. Two adults, a man and a woman, each with similar brown hair to the boy, were chasing after him, with the man throwing chairs at the boy, who had to duck and dodge to avoid them.

On his back, the boy had a guitar case, which he was lucky enough to have since the woman threw various ceramic plates at the boy's back, which the case would block and protect him from. After a bit of chasing around the small house, the boy was able to see the front door, and after quickly opening it, he was able to make his way through it.

While trying to get through the door, the boy can feel a large foot hit the back of his guitar case and send him flying forward onto the ground in front of the house. Wiping the dirt off of his face, the boy turned around to the two adults, with the man standing at the doorway and screaming at the boy.

"You wanna do man shit?! Then you're first day as a man is to get the hell out my house!"

Immediately afterward, the man stepped back and slammed the door in front of him. The boy was pissed, but he was able to shrug it off slightly. There was a sharp pain in the boy's chest as he was hurt by their words and their actions, but he didn't cry; instead, he pulled out a flip-phone from his pocket and dialed a number.

"Fucking assholes."

After dialing the number, the boy sat and waited for his phone to call the house, but instead he heard a strong beep coming from it. After the beep came a dreaded message that the boy definitely didn't want to hear.

"Your device does not have enough batter-"

Before the message could finish, the boy closed his phone and turned it off. Starting to walk to the nearest town, the boy looked angry and pissed beyond belief at what happened, but he kept walking, insulting his cellphone for not being able to work for him.

"Useless peace of shit!"

The more he walked, the more that town seemed to be farther and farther away, but he didn't have time to spend hours walking. He had to get to running as fast as he could in order to make it in time, and he started to run with that heavy guitar on his back.

The words of the man from before motivated him with rage to push himself for ten miles to finally reach the post office, and once there, he sat down on a bench just for a moment to catch his breath. ["I gotta make it; I can't miss this for the world."]

Finally getting up from the bench, the boy walked around the area and finally found a payphone. Running over to it, the boy rummaged through his pocket to pull out a quarter to put into the phone and dialed the number he was trying to call earlier. He was breathing heavily, hoping to God that he got an answer.

After a couple of seconds of buzzing, he heard someone pick up the phone, which caused the boy's face to light up with hope.

"Yo, who is it?"

The boy's heart was pumping rapidly with a combination of fear and being tired; he could barely get his words out as he sent a barrage of them through the phone.

"James! Holy shit... thank god! It's Marty, I-I'm at the post office on 501! Could you pick me up and drop me off at McLeod? I'll get you the money for gas just... please help me out."

You've reached the end of published parts.

⏰ Last updated: May 17 ⏰

Add this story to your Library to get notified about new parts!

BlossomWhere stories live. Discover now