Nick despised his parents. That was the easiest way to put it. Neither of his parents put much focus on him, or much else other than drinking, socializing and work, except his mother preferred shopping, the hairdressers or going to the day spa downtown since she didn't work.
"Working is for men and people who have no other commitments" she had said once while ridiculously intoxicated. Nick was sure she was so drunk that day that she wasn't talking to anyone, but perhaps someone from her imagination. She hadn't acknowledged him that day.
Nick didn't know if he even wanted to work. He was fifteen years old and several kids in his year at school has started work. He couldn't think of anything more mundane than having a job.
For Nick, he preferred it when his parents were out of the apartment. He couldn't stand them. He couldn't even bear to be in the same room as them. He would skip school just to stay home alone if neither of his parents were around.
His mother spent most of her time ignoring him while believing she was the most important person in the world, unless of course she needed something. Nick's father would come home from work, irritated and tired, or drunk from the bar, smelling like every other woman he had fucked.
He also came home abusive. He would lash out and hit his wife, and more often than not, Nick.
Nick wasn't afraid of his father. He was used to his father coming home and beating him. He just wished his father would do something more productive. Nick had taken to scribbling in a journal to get some of his own feelings out. He knew it was lame, hence why he had labelled the book Math Formulas. No one in their right mind would want to read that shit.
…
Nick walked out of his room. He didn't have a lot to do. The only think he wanted to do was leave the apartment. Leave and not go back. He made his way down to the lounge room where his mother was sitting on the lounge, drink in hand. "Nick dear, could you get me another drink?"
He looked at her. God she looked out of it. "Get your own drink."
"Oh Nick darling, please don't speak to me like that. Get your mother a drink please."
He groaned and grabbed the glass from her, walking over to the bar.
"How was school today?" she asked.
"Mom… it's Saturday."
"Of course it is dear."
He frowned and walked back over to her. "Mom-"
"Nick!"
He looked around at his dad.
"What are you doing Nick?"
"Getting a drink for mom. She is too drunk to." He passed the drink to his mom. "Got a problem with that?" he asked his dad, raising a brow.
"You're such a fucking smartass all the fucking time."
Nick scoffed. "I didn't say shit. Fuck you."
"You need a good kick in the ass. Fucking punk."
"Oh, don't start this shit" Nick shook his head.
"Hey, can you boys keep it down, I'm getting a headache" his mom sighed, shooing them away with a wave of her hand.
"Yeah, whatever mom. As if you would fucking intervene."
"Don't fucking speak to your mother like that."
"Don't fucking speak to me like that! Who the fuck-"
"Nick, please stop your yelling" his mother chastised quietly.
"Fucking sick of this shit" he exhaled, irritated. "Goddammit." He swung his fist around and slammed it into the wall. "Fuck you!" he flipped his parents the bird and walked towards the front door of the apartment.
His father grabbed him around the waist. "You aren't going anywhere, you brat!"
"Get off me!" Nick flailed, kicking and trying to punch his father. "Ugh, I am so fuckin' angry!" he punched his dad in the side of the head.
"That's it, you shit of a child!" he threw Nick on the lounge and punch him in the face.
Nick recoiled in shock and pain, glaring up at his father. His mouth seemed to fill with blood and he spat it out. "Well, maybe you should have aborted me like you both wanted to" he smirked.
His dad punched him again, and would have again if his mother hadn't intervened.
"That is enough! No more!" she gasped when she saw Nick's face. "You won't be going to school tomorrow."
"Tomorrow is Sunday, there is no fucking school!"
She sighed and looked at her husband. "Look what you've done to Nick's face."
"Don't pretend you care all off a sudden!" said Nick, sitting up so suddenly blood and so it flew out of his mouth onto the white leather of the couch. "You're just like dad. You don't want me" he pushed her away.
"Nick?!"
He stormed to his room, slamming the door behind him.
They've clipped my wings. I'm stuck in this cage.
He sighed, looking at his reflection in the mirror, the busted, swollen, bloody lip and bruised eye. He grimaced. He looked like a monster.
Nick sat on his bed, lighting a cigarette. He looked out the window, chain smoking, hoping for the day when his life would be better.