Boy of Sorrow

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Chapter 3

The walk home started simple enough with just me strolling down the cracked and possibly pissed on pavement of the side walk. My head was hung low to the ground, not daring to meet any ones gaze that happened to be walking by me. I was getting closer and closer to the front of the schools gate until I knocked into something that made me fell down hard to the ground.

“Watch where you're go- oh hey, it's our little buddy, Hayden.” said a very familiar voice that belonged to no other then Jeff Oakland. The sound of his voice automatically sent fear down my spine as I looked up at the great big brute that stood dominantly above me along with Claide. Both looked down on me with hints of hunger in their eyes as if I was the wounded animal and they were the lions closing in on their meal. My whole body shook as soon as I realized how much trouble I was in once Jeff grabbed my arm very roughly towards him. I wasn't a very tall person, so he had to crane is neck a bit farther down close to my face. I winced as I breathed in through my nose. The dude stunk which wasn't surprising considering his last class was gym. How do I know about that? Because at one time I had the same class with him until I opt out and took a different class, too bad I can't say the same for English.

“Well what should we do to you today? Shove you in the garbage can? Lock you in a closed tight space? What to do... what to do...” Jeff taunted me as I fruitlessly squirmed like a worm in his iron grip. To be honest, I really don't know why these two would hurt me so much, I mean I know I am not perfect or anything but still I want to be left alone to wallow in my own sorrow.

“What do you think we should do Claide? I can't make up my mind.” Jeff turned to his partner in crime who smiled even more cruelly at me. With a last ditch effort, I kicked Jeff in his manhood, as soon as he knelt down in pain and let go of me, I ran away from them as fast as I could.

“You little bastard!” Claide yelled at me. Dang he was fast! No wonder he was the leader of the track team. Houses and people blurred past us as we continued to run, him trying to catch up to me while I tried to get away from him. I felt his hot breath on my neck as I disruptively turned a corner in to the alleyway. My chest and legs started to feel extreme pain as I willed myself forward. My breathing became more labored with each pumping pulse of my heart letting out more and more blood in my body. Sweat trickled down my forehead and into my eyes that I constantly had to wipe with my gloves as I dodged trash cans and people that stood in my way. In the distance I saw a very familiar fence that I knew so well over the years. It was Mrs. Durses house! Grinning from ear to ear now, I continued to run towards the fence and climbed up to it like a fucking monkey. Just as I landed on ground once more, Claide soon descended up on me. “No where to run now, you little bastard.”

As soon as he said that, a low growling sound came behind him. Claide's once scary and pissed off face soon turn to terror as he looked behind him to see what was making that noise. Behind him was Mrs. Durses dog named Zander. The dog was massive and huge looking, a pure rottweiler. The dogs hateful glaze was thankfully trained on him and not me, because once Zander growls at the first thing he sees he will attack that only target. The moment that Zander finally made his move is when I made mine as well and high tailed it out of there by running to the farther side of the yard and climbed the gate. Claide who was too caught up in the moment of seeing the mean dog reacted a little more slowly but ran after me but this time running away from something that was chasing him. Just as I reached the fence I felt Claides hand grab my left hand just as my right hand clung to the fence. I successfully made him let go of my hand and continued to climb as my life depended on it. I heard Claides screaming in agony as the dog continued to have at it on him but I dared not stop and watch the whole thing happen as I continued to run towards my house which was now not that far from Mrs. Durses home.

The moment I went inside of my house, I immediately locked and bolted the front door hoping that Claide wouldn't pursue any further even though he was probably in so much agony right now. I learned from experience that Zander had a mean streak of biting people on their asses and it would probably take a long time to heal from a bite like his depending on how fast a persons body regenerates. Mine at least took a few days due to my body being used to all of the beating that I deserved everyday.

Now that the moment of terror was gone, I began to head upstairs to my lonely room when I heard my fathers voice from the kitchen.

“Hayden is that you?” He called out.

Correction: The moment of terror didn't end just yet.

But still I hesitated, should I answer him? Or should I ignore him? What happens if I ignore him? Will he beat me again?

Not a moment longer, I heard the heavy sounds of footsteps coming out of the kitchen and towards the hallway. Panic again coursed through me as I tried to musk up the voice in me the second time today but I couldn't. So when I smelled that horrible smell that I am well acquainted with as alcohol, I knew my father was right in front of me but I couldn't meet him in the eye because I was looking at the wall right besides me. His dominating aura began to suffocate me as I continued to not make a sound. Not even when he started to hit me repeatedly across my face all of a sudden. I did not cry or whimper because I also knew from experience that if I did any of those things he would be ten times as harsher on me. Why? I thought to myself as I felt him hit me in the stomach, didn't blood count for something? After what felt like hours, he finally stopped and peered down at me once more with a hateful glaze. “NEXT TIME I CALL YOU, YOU BETTER ANSWER!” He screeched at me, before he headed outside leaving me broken, beaten and bloody on the staircase alone.

The next few hours where tortuous as I nursed my wounds with the first aid kit that was rapidly depleting once more because of my ever constant need for it. I vaguely realized that during the chase, Claide ripped off my glove and parts of my bandage was starting to unravel due to that. Oh well, I needed to change the bandage on it anyways seeing as it was getting extremely dirty from constantly touching things that were not sanitary in the first place. With a sigh, I unwrapped the rest of the old bandage off of my left hand first, put antiseptic medicine on it and proceeded to expertly wrap the new bandage on my chewed up hand before doing the exact same thing to my right hand. After that was done and over with I made my way towards the slightly dingy mirror in the bathroom to access the damage on my face and body with the first aid kit in between my hands.

I opened my eyes expecting the worst. My stomach dropped. On my face of course was a huge big black bruise on my left cheek and a couple of smaller ones that scattered around my right one. Trickles of blood came down my nose and I winced in slight pain when I gently touched it. Judging from the looks of it, it isn't broken but just slightly bruised. With an heavier sigh, I grabbed a small piece of toilet paper, wadded it up and lightly tucked it into my nostrils so that I could stench the blood flow temporarily. I then proceeded to wipe what little blood that was on my face before placing the first aid kit back to its rightful place and threw everything else away.

Once done with all of that, I walked out of the bathroom and into the hallway. Whispers of my mothers work by passed me as I made my way to my lonely bedroom at last. Memories of my use to be family was either covered in dust of years and years of not being well taken cared of as I continued to stare straight ahead of me, not daring to look up in fear of looking at one of the pictures. Right after my mother died, my father wanted to take down the pictures but I protested against it. Like usual he was drunk when he was doing this so he began beating me for defying his authority, after the beating was over, he stormed out of the house much like he did earlier today. Thank god he forgotten about the pictures the next day however. I really didn't understand why my father wanted to take down those pictures at the time because it was her belongings that she shared with the both of us. But as I got older and older, I started to realize that the reason why he wanted to take them down wasn't because he wanted to get rid of them, but because he was having a hard time looking at them just like how I am.

But even so, I still want those pictures of hers up there because it not only reminded me of her but how my family use to be. It also gave me hope that maybe we could be like that once more.

God I hoped for that.


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