The Way Out

Chapter 8

I'm woken my a tapping sound. I fell asleep in my car in a school parking lot. A man I tapping in my window so I start my car and roll the window down to see what the man wants. "What are you doing here?" He asks and I realize that I should have just driven away when I started my car. "Sleeping" I roll up my window and put my car in drive. I'm usually polite but I don't have the energy.

I pull in the driveway and my mood has suddenly become worse when I notice that the damn truck is in the driveway. I walk though the door and I'm not surprised to see him. "Where the fuck were you last night?" He takes no time to start questioning me as usual. I honestly don't want to deal with his bull shit right now but I know that if I don't that it will make things worse. "I was at the library looking at some books for my history paper." I say hoping my honesty will someday pay off. "All night, your lying you fucking prick." I'm so sick of just taking his bullshit. "I fell asleep in my car." I try to walk past him but he doesn't let me pass instead he shoves me and I lose my balance falling to the floor. My head still hurts from last time he smashed my head against the door. I try to get to my feet but he pushes me down again and mumbles something under his breath that I can't quite make out. Fuck I've never hated this man so much. I don't bother fighting back and I don't brother picking myself up off the ground. Living with him is more dangerous and unpredictable than my football days.

I stay in the floor until he stagers back to the couch. He's always either on the couch or passed out on the floor, he hasn't been sleeping in a proper bed since I can remember really. I get up and make my way down the stairs to my room. My head is light and I am quite dizzy. I guess there's a reason my grades have still been declining. I can not wait to move out of here. I feel as though I think about leaving every day and I wish that I had enough resources and money to live in my own. I would like a decent apartment possibly in another town. A greasy start is really what I need.

I grab the box of cereal that I have stashed under my bed for times like these. When I'm in a sour mood fruit loops help me feel better. It's childish I'm aware but I love them, it reminds me of the times when things weren't so bad here. When time didn't seem so stand so still. 

I can't work on homework because I really just don't want to and we'll I really don't care. There isn't anything else to do really. The internet is so slow down here so I can't stream anything and the only television is up stairs because the damn bastard can't go without it. I remember the small collection of novels that I had taken after that night. The ones that my mother used to read often. I walk over to my desk and grab the first one I see. I dust the cover off a little and it reads The Catcher in the Rye it's a novel written by J.D Salinger. I lay down on my bed and open to the first page.