◎When My Heart Beats◎

"Look at you! All colored up! go back in that room and clean yourself boy!", He spat at me. My head instantly sank into a shameful position. I don't understand why he treats me like this. But to avoid further scolding I quickly abide. Though I'm near the age of nineteen , I am still treated like an adolescent child. To further explain my situation at hand I'll start from the beginning.

Well to begin with, I'll introduce myself. I am Michael, Last name Jackson. I can explain myself to be an abnormal being that just so happens to exist in this poor excuse for a world. If it was my choice I would go back in time or another planet. Any place where I'm not judged. But to continue, I live in California. Encino California to be exact. I live with my four brother's and my father. Yeah it's pretty crowded in the house. When mom past thing's became hectic. She past a little over three years ago. It's like our world turned upside down. Dad got violent. He always came home drunk. And let me tell you it was like we live with Dr.Jekl and Mr.Hyde. It was that bad. My father isn't a bad person he just becomes one when he drinks. It's scary at times.

Jermaine; the eldest of all five of us, Sometimes gets into altercations with him and need I explain. I will stress that the scene after is like one from an aftermath of an hurricane. To move a little forward into my current stand point, When I stated I am abnormal. Well I am, Most boy's like to engage in sport's and porn and most of all women. Well I don't. I don't are any of those thing's as important. In my inbox of life those thing's would be duely noted as spam. I rather craft. You know make things. I dream of making my imagination reality. I like to draw, Paint, Sketch, Build. The whole nine yard's. I like crafting thing's but only by hand.

I think a persons hand's are the greatest gift God could give. But for me it's a gift and a curse. My father hates my figurines and paintings. I think it's because mother, Like me loved to paint and was a crafty person as well. Which brings me to my current situation. I was sitting in mother's old garden she'd (It's where I hide to do my paintings ). No one knows about what I do here they just see it as a way of me still coping with mother's death. Strange thayt they think that. Considering the fact I spend every waking moment in that shed. Anyways, I was sitting and working on a painting. I've been working on for awhile now. I was stuck in thought looking are it when the shed door swung open. I instantly jumped. The person doesn't move. I dared Not as well. The silence was ended by the stuttering voice of a man. That man was no other than Joseph, My father.

"Boy what the hell are you doing in here?!", Knowing that most of the time his questions are retorical, I didn't answer. "Do you not hear me boy!? ", He spat again his voice getting louder. I slowly turn around. Nothing sir, He looks around. Just eye's crazily darting the shed as if they have a mind of their own. Great he's drunk!, He finally focuses back on me. "Look at you! All colored up! Go back in that room and clean yourself boy! ", He spat at me. My head instantly sank into a shameful slump. The look of disgust on his face makes me feel even worse. time's like this I miss my mother. I want her so badly. Just to make things right again....

To Be Continued...

A/N: Sorry if this chapter wasn't all that good, but this story I will say is definitely different from my other's. I really hope that it becomes successful! But anyways it's a special story for Aiden here on wattpad, I hope you enjoyed. I want to try to get chapter two out soon but no promises. Lots of love! ♥

-Marilyn. E