Missing Wings (#Wattys2016)

Chapter 6 - I Need A Hero

***WARNING: THIS STORY CONTAINS ALCOHOL USE, ABUSE, DEPRESSION, ANXIETY, AND SELF-HARM AND THIS MIGHT BE TRIGGERS TO SOME READERS. I STRONGLY ADVISE YOU TO READ WITH CAUTION. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED*** 

Jaxon's POV

We sit in the living room, on my couch, watching poor Tom Cat chase mischievious Jerry Mouse around different scenery for another hour and a half. Joe left a little while after I rejoined Damian with pizza and told me he would be back tomorrow.

I hear the doorknob rattle, but let it go and tell myself it's just Joe. He most likely had forgotten something. But he knows where the extra key is. Then the door opens. "What did you forget this time, Joe?" I called with a small giggle.

"Joe was here?" a gruff, drunken voice called back. Oh shit.

My entire body goes rigid, suddenly I feel cold as my veins fill with ice. "Phillip?" I ask, my voice shaking slightly. Damian looks at me taking in my suddenly tense posture. His features immediately transforming, showing worry. "You're home." It wasn't a question. How could I question it when I heard his voice? But I would've hoped it was just a bad dream or me just hearing things. I know that isn't the case when I see Phillip stumble into sight.

"Who's this?" he asks, making eye contact with me, then Damian. Phillip's face is puffy and has slight discoloration. His eyes are blood shot and he is holding a brown paper bag with a bottle's neck sticking out of the top. "Well?" he asks impatiently. He takes a swig from the bottle.

"This is D-Damian. He is a friend from school." I say trying to calm myself. I know Damian has noticed the tension and I pray he doesn't speak.

"A friend." Phillip chuckles and stumbles his way over to the couch. "Well, boy. I think it's time you got your ass off my couch and get the hell home."

Damian nods and scurries off the couch.

"I-I-I think I will walk with him to his, uh," I look out the window by the front door to see his motorcycle propped up by the curb, "bike." I finish.

Phillip grunts in response. Not really sure if he means yes or no, I quickly follow Damian to his bike.

"So, that's your dad?" he asks after we reach his bike. I shake my head, "No, that's my step dad. My dad died a while back."

"Oh, then where is your mom?"

I sigh. This is why I don't converse with people. There is just too much to explain, too many memories, too much pain. "She's buried by my Dad," I say anyway.

"Oh," he says again. "I'm sorry." Ah, and there it is.

"I don't want your pity, Hendrick." I spat.

"I'm not pitying you."

"Yes, you are! I can see it in your eyes. I don't need it." I yelled at him, "You don't know anything about me. Go back to Angeline and just leave me alone." I said. I feel the traitor tears prick behind my eyes. I take a few deep breathes to calm myself.

"I thought you had fun tonight," Damian said, the hurt is evident in his voice.

"I did. But, it can't happen again ever again." The damn traitor tears fall. "Why?" he asks and reaches for my hands.

"Because Damian there are things you don't know and wouldn't understand about me. And those things are best left alone." I pull my hands from his grasp. "It's best if we aren't friends," I tell him.

"Is that what you want?" he stares at my face, now.

No. "Yes."

"Fine." He turns from me. The porch light flickers on and off, "Get in here, girl!" Phillip yells from the doorway.

I wince. "C-coming!" I yell back. I turn to Damian. "I'm sorry," I say and the tears fall a little faster down my face. "I have to go." I turn away and hurriedly rush toward the door, trying to stop the flow of tears. I don't turn around to look at Damian as I rush inside and shut the door.