Every Last Lie

Gone

"Get out of my house."

That's when my life had changed forever. Fifteen years later I still haven't decided if it was for the better or the worse. But, I'm leaning toward better because I am the most successful now. Being the leader of the biggest and most well-known gang in the world, Sterling. But how did I go from being kicked out of the only place I knew as a home, to being on top. Well, it started with him.

May, first, two-thousand and three. The day my life was changed. I come down and see my dad in the kitchen frantically looking for something. It seemed important. He started mumbling something. Something with a tone of his voice that scared me. He started saying something I could actually understand this time.

"Where is it?"

He then turned around looking around the kitchen cabinets on the side of the room I was standing on.

"You." He said this with a look that made me terrified. The same look that he made when he shot my brother in the leg. The same look he made when my mom took my brother and herself away and left me behind. With him.

"Me?" I questioned, nervously.

"Yes, you, you worthless piece of trash where is it? Hmm, where did you put it?"

I didn't take anything but at the point in time, I realized he had been drinking. He had the smell of Jack tugging on the crease of his mouth. It was in a devilish smirk. There were dark bags under his eyes. My dad wasn't exactly a saint when he was drunk. Well, actually he wasn't a saint when he was sober either. Sometimes he would threaten to hit me. But never once has he laid a finger on me. He knew I would leave and never come back. Leaving him all alone.

He walked up to me and slapped me on the left side of my lip and cheek. Leaving me with a bloody lip and a pain in my face. I touched where he had hit me.

"Now that you see what I'm capable of, where's the money?"

I didn't know about any money. I had worked a minimum wage job just so I could afford to pay the house bills and keep just enough food so that I wouldn't starve to death. If I knew about money I surely would have had more food and better heating in this house. It's the dead of winter and I am freezing.

Without really realizing what I was doing, I hit him. Hard. Right in the nose. His head flies back. Then the blood comes running down his face and onto his faded Hollister t-shirt. Then I ran upstairs to my room, with him being close behind. I took my desk chair and put it under the doorknob as a sort of barrier between him and me. He started pounding on my door.

"Let me in. You won't like me if I have to break this door." He threatened.

"What will you do? Hit me like you hit Jonathan and mom?"

This made him stop banging on my door and gave me a few extra moments to pack as many clothes and other essentials into my old canvas backpack. Then I grabbed my wallet and phone and climbed out of my window. 

Even though I was on the second floor, I was only about fifteen feet from the ground below. I jumped and rolled. Then ran down the street. Not looking back.