The Run ©2014 Sydney Wray

The Run

I shuddered as his toxic breath fanned my face. detecting cigarettes and alcohol. He waved a hand to the ground.

"Clean this up." He stepped around me and disappeared out the door.

~~~~~~~~

"Lindsey? Beer."

I groaned, fed up with my recent beer runs.

 "No." I yelled out, ret urning to my book and squinting because of lack of light. 

Huffing, I looked up. My eyes hurt. I only had one lamp, and it was dimming due to age. Or the electric bill.

"Lindsey!"

I threw down my book in anger and stormed down the stairs into the living room.

 Looking square at him, I said, "Are you really that handicapped that you can't even take one step into the kitchen and get yourself your own damn beer?"

He looked up, shocked by my outburst. "You watch your tone."

"You're not my father." I clipped.

He stood up and smiled. "Look little lady, how would you even know what it's like to have a father? Isn't yours, oh I don't know, dead?" 

Anger started to boil. I've seen enough movies to know the position a father holds. "Shut. Up."

He chuckled. "Oh, and where's your mother?"

I shoved him. "Don't you dare talk about my parents!"

He stopped laughing, his sick humor evaporating as he stumbled backwards. "You little-"

I pushed him again, and this time, he fell over the chair's arm onto the floor.

 It was my turn to laugh. I stepped forward, towering above him.

"You don't know a thing about my parents. So next time you want to make accusations-don't."

He stood up quickly, and before I knew it, slapped me hard across the face. Before I had time to be shocked, I felt another hard blow to the side of my face.

I tried to block the next punch, but he easily grasped my thin arm and shoved me backwards. 

His strength sent me sailing to the ground.

He stood, heaving, and spit on me. I watched him lounge into his chair, fixing his gaze on the television.

 I caught some of the other kids peeking at the current fight, bewilderment and fear staining their face.

I feebly pulled myself up and walked to the downstairs bathroom. Turning my head sideways, a large dark red mark was ingrained into my cheek. I clenched my teeth and  felt heavy adrenaline pumping through my veins.

Marching my way into the kitchen, I quietly pulled a beer from the fridge. I glided back into the room,  stepping up to him.

Walter looked up, glancing at the beer. "That's more like-"

I didn't let him finish. I swung my arm to the top of his head and slammed the bottle of beer down. Glass exploded around him, beer dripping from the tips of his hair.

"There's your beer."

~~~~~~~~

"I want her out!" Walter screamed from downstairs. I was standing at my doorway.

"I can't just kick her out, Walter! This is her house!" Hellen's exasperated voice rang from the living room.

I pressed the ice pack harder to my cheek out of fear, receiving a sharp pain.

"You don't understand, Hellen! That little beast pushed me and threw a beer bottle on my head!"

It was quiet and murmering rung in my ears. It got louder. 

"Look Hellen, I either call the police and have them deal with her, you kick her out, or I leave. Pick your choice."

I immediately thought Hellen, the only mother I'd ever know, would've pick me over Walter.

I was wrong.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Hey guys! I hope your enjoying The Run so far! Keep reading, commenting, and voting!

~Xx