Harry walked through the front door of his home; thoughts of Casey and her violent past danced rhumbas in his brain. She still hadn’t unveiled the skeletons in her closet, and it bothered him incessantly. He peered into the family room and saw his foster dad sitting at the table with his back towards the door; head in both of his hands. He could tell by his uneasy breathing and agitated sighs that he was upset, so he crept in and attempted to sneak up to his room unseen. He had made it about halfway up the stairs until his father noticed he was home.
“Harry,” his gruff voiced called from the kitchen.
He sloughed down the stairs and greeted the only man he had ever known to be a father figure.
“Yeah?”
“Have a seat please,” he demanded, adjusting his glasses further up on his nose. The look about Harry’s substitute father, John Wilson, was deceiving. His salt and pepper hair with the rosiness of his cheeks gave off a jolly vibe, but John was far from that. He had a temper that could ignite a thousand flames, and it proved to be even worse when he had alcohol in his system. Harry trudged over to the table with his tail between his legs.
“Where have you been?” John asked, resting his elbows on the table and leaning forward. He was the only adult figure that managed to intimidate Harry without a specific reason.
Harry shrugged, “Out with friends.”
John scoffed and leaned back, the chair creaking beneath his weight. His faced suggested that he was utterly disgusted with Harry, and he Harry didn’t quite know why.
“So your friends are more important than helping out around here?”
Harry sighed, not sure how to answer. He looked down at his hands in his lap and said nothing still, scared of what John’s reaction might be.
“God dammit, Harry,” John smacked the table and all the articles rattled in response; Harry jolted at the cacophonous sound. “Be a man and acknowledge me when I’m talking to you.”
“No,” he whimpered.
John mocked him, his gold ring glistening under the lamp above them. “Then what is your problem?”
Harry waited, thinking his answer through before saying it aloud, “I don’t have a problem.”
“Excuse me?” John asked, one eyebrow cocked. He strained to make sure he had heard him correctly.
“You heard me,” Harry growled. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“The hell you didn’t!” John had stood up from his seat, the legs of the chair screeching against the tile in protest. He was angered, and it was just then that Harry noticed a compilation of empty Budweiser’s on the sink. The man had been drinking for what looked like the duration of the afternoon, and Harry had just angered him.
“John, I—” Harry began, not wanting to look the intoxicated man in the face.
“Shut up, just shut up!” He yelled, cutting him off. “You don’t anything around here. You’re lazy, you’re stupid, you’re worthless!”
Harry was silent.
“We didn’t have to rescue you that day,” he yelled, the alcohol taking complete control over his thoughts. “We should have left you there!”
There was a knot the size of a boulder developing in his throat. He wanted to cry, he needed to cry. The words stung at his skin as they oozed out of John’s mouth, but there was nothing he could say to defend himself.
By this point, Harry’s foster mom, Suzanne, had heard the commotion and entered the kitchen; a look of sheer horror was plaster across her face. She peered around the corner and watched on as her husband ridiculed the one she called her son.
John lurched forward and grabbed Harry by the shoulders, “Answer me when I’m talking to you!”
“I’m sorry!” Harry yelled, not sure what else to say.
“You’re worth nothing,” John spat. “That’s why your mother abandoned you. She didn’t want you!”
Harry’s blood boiled at extreme temperatures and his fists clenched with rage. Don’t do it, he thought to himself, don’t do it.
“Leave her out of this,” Harry growled, trying to control his temper that only surfaced when he was provoked.
“John, please, stop yelling!” Suzanne begged, tears were forming in the brim of her eyelids now. He turned around to face his emotional wife, but didn’t take her advice.
“Stay out of it, Sue!” He yelled, still gripping the cotton of his shirt.
“You should listen to her,” Harry said softly, trying to calm him down. “You’ve been drinking, John. Please, stop.”
“Don’t tell me what to do!” He pushed Harry and sent him stumbling backwards into the table.
“John!” Suzanne cried out, running towards his defense.
She bolted towards Harry to protect him, but John shot his arm out and close lined her. Suzanne fell to the ground, smacking her head on the cold, hard, ground. Harry’s eyes bulged out of his head as he ran to defend his mother. Without thinking, he clenched a fist and raised it back before slamming right into the center of John’s mouth. He stumbled back as Harry’s fist penetrated his lips, a gash forming instantaneously. Blood rushed from his mouth as he uttered a few short curse words. Harry ignored the damage he’d just done and aided Suzanne to her feet. She thanked him, but reprimanded shortly after for inflicting wounds on John’s face.
“Go upstairs,” she whispered. Her voice was almost inaudible over the cries of pain coming from John’s wounded mouth. “I’ll take care of it.”
“I—I’m so sorry,” Harry pleaded, guilt sweeping through his veins.
“Shh, I know,” she cooed. “Just go on up to bed.”
Harry did as he was instructed and walked swiftly up the stairs to his bedroom.
The hours ticked by slowly, and he could still here the faint arguments from the Wilson’s just a few feet below him. He brought the pillow and smothered his face in it, but the sounds of her cries penetrated his shield. He tossed the pillow to the side, sending a glass filled with water crashing to the floor.
“Shit,” he muttered, kicking it to the side.
He walked over to his window and looked out, the moonlight streamed through his window and pooled over his face. It screeched in protest as he undid the lock and forced it upwards, climbing out to the roof and steadying himself along the edge. The world was quiet, serene; a sound he hadn’t heard in a while. The only audible noise was the sound of pick-up trucks whizzing by along the empty street.
He peered up at the stars that had been sprinkled delicately along the blanket of indigo sky. Loneliness and desperation panged inside of his chest, and up until know he had always been okay with it. Something within him told him that he was good enough, he was strong enough to let go of his brutal past and move forward. He knew that reason was Casey. She gave him a sense of hope that he had been absent until what seemed like moments ago. He wanted to thank her for being that guiding light in the dark, for igniting a spark in him that drove him to uncover the man he knew he could be. But his pride and lack of confidence seized him just like it always did.
He leaned back on the cold tiles of the roof and closed eyes, letting the safety of sleep swallow him whole.
AN: the two of us had the lovely opportunity of sitting down and writing these chapters (9 & 10) together today:) it was way fun, and we're proud of these them! enjoy!
x
A & D