Chapter One
The alarm clock blared out loudly through the serenity of the room, causing Bruno's eyes to fly open. Instantaneously, his reflexes triggered and Bruno crushed the noisy clock with his fist, silencing the alarm. "Aw damn… that's the seventh clock in a row," he grumbled to himself. He wiped his face with his hands, attempting to brush off the lingering effects of fatigue. Yesterday was exhausting; he had to run errands for himself, grabbing groceries and clothes for himself. He didn't have much on his agenda today, except to "meditate" on the idea of right and wrong. He was kicked out of school for assaulting another student, Jason Myers, with a carton of milk and a lunch tray. "'Violence is not tolerated in my school,'" he said to himself, staring at the ceiling, "it's called poetic justice you idiot." Anger began to boil within him, stirring up the inner wrath sealed away. He bit his bottom lip and swallowed, trying his best to stay calm.
"It's Wednesday morning man, no need to get mad first thing in the morning," he said to himself. He sighed heavily and forced himself up, his joints popping in the process. His stomach growled loudly, nearly making him jump. He stopped and laughed to himself, surprised at how loudly his stomach talked. He dashed out of his room and ran down the stairs and rounded the corner right into the kitchen. He targeted the refrigerator and bee-lined straight to the freezer and opened it, scanning the frozen box with eager eyes. He lit up as soon as he caught sight of a box of toaster strudels; he immediately snatched out the box and held it in the air, smiling at it. "Oh heavenly box of toaster strudels, your deliciousness and wonderful aromas fill my heart and soul with joyous music that even greater than the Symphony Orchestra. May you nourish my body with your divine awesomeness!" he praised to the box. He opened up the box and saw only two left. He frowned at this and growled. "I told that gluttonous pig to keep his hands off of my strudels," he said as he dropped the last two into the toaster and lifted his arms up and smelled himself. He smelled fine, just needed a rub down of the Old Spice. He ran upstairs back to into his room and grabbed the deodorant and a pair of blue jeans, and his favorite pair of shoes. He trotted down the stairs again and flicked the T.V. on while putting on his pants. He flipped through the T.V. channels (oh yeah, he went there, turning channels without the remote) and stopped on a familiar cartoon depicting a rather tall, slim blue jay and a short brown raccoon. "Oh look, Regular Show, it must be 10:00 A.M.," he noted out loud. He leaned over and laced up his shoes with slight haste and tied them tight. He ran into the kitchen and snatched up the hot pastries in midair and quickly wrapped them in a paper towel. He grasped the wrapped up pastries in his teeth and patted himself down, doing a quick inventory check. 'Okay, chain's attached to belt loop, wallet's in my pocket… that's it, I'm outta here!' he thought as he bolted out the door.
He jumps on his skateboard, which was conveniently placed at the doorstep and rode forwards out onto the driveway. He kick flipped over the slope of the cement and rode down the street. "I guess the first stop to make is the Kipling Mall," he said. He rode around the corner and ducked by a few early morning passersby, who scalded and yelled out, "Watch where you're going you punk kid!" "This sidewalk was made for walking, not riding and rolling!" He only smacked his lips and rolled his eyes at them, biting back a list of smart remarks he intended to spit at them. He kept riding down the sidewalk and flipped them off, satisfying his need to curse them. "Good enough for me," he said under his breath as he smirked. Thank God his dad wasn't home this morning, probably out all night getting drunk, doing God knows what. Hopefully he caused a disturbance and the cops had to come in and arrest him. He grinned wildly as he began to picture the poor sap being tortured in by his cellmates. 'Dreams are like wishes, just keep dreaming and it shall come true,' he thought to himself. He continued to ride down the street, the wind blowing in his favor. Today might be alright after all.
He had finally made it to Kipling Mall after getting past traffic and more passersby, as well as a few insults to top that off. Not that he actually cared about what people said or thought about him, he just wanted people to say something so he could have a reason to lash his anger out and punch them. He smirked at this thought but remembered when his mom would always sit down and tell him there are better ways to resolve anger and there was no reason to channel anger through violence. She was such a wonderful, amazing woman... God she was the spitting image of perfection. The way she smiled and watched Saturday morning cartoons with him when he was little. She could do anything; she could even bake toaster strudels better than Pillsbury could have ever done. He loved her so much; she was the shining ray of happiness that kept him a bright, spirited child through the years. He snapped out of his trance and sighed. "Mama, I really wished you were here," he said looking up to the sky as he proceeded into the huge mall. He first started to think about where he needed to go first rather than where he wanted to go; he knew he would spend all of his money before he could even buy the essentials. He tucked his skateboard under arm and walked through the food court, so many different food options... his stomach rumbled loudly. "Damn it all, why now?" he questioned his stomach. He gently scratched his belly, trying to relieve and briefly silence it so he could think.
He could get a number of things, but his budget was $75.00 and he needed a new belt or two. He perked up and walked into the heart of the mall, calmly looking around and the various stores and advertisements posted up. A few people were giving him strange looks and scoffing at him. He only rolled his eyes and brushed past them, muttering and cursing under his breath. He hated when people just talked about him like that, talk, talk, and talk! People have to always think so negatively of him, he carries himself well but when you see his attire, you'll think differently. Can't people look past the cover of the book and skip straight to the contents? Obviously not. He sighed agitatedly and paced even faster, heading in the direction of a Rue 21 store. "Guess I could start there," he said. He wasn't paying attention to where he was going and ran into a mall cop. Bruno stumbled backwards, dropping his board and slipped on it and fell onto his back hard. People who were walking by watched him fall and burst into hysterical laughter. Outraged, he leaped back to his feet, fire burning in his eyes. "What the hell man? You need to watch where the #$% you're going you jackass!" he yelled. He was so blinded by his own fury; he hadn't realized it was mall security. He was a short, stocky man with a big belly. The man was flustered, caught off guard by Bruno's lash out. Bruno growled and stepped up to the mall cop, towering over him. He grabbed the poor man by the collar of his shirt and slammed him against the wall behind him. "What? No apology either? That is unbelievable!" he continued to rant. "P-please, show some restraint... I did not mean to run into you, honest," the cop pleaded. Bruno, his rage growing bigger and bigger, only tightened his grip on his collar and grit his teeth. "What is wrong with you? Show some dignity for God's sake! Stop acting like a pussy with your tail tucked under you and stop begging like a little bitch!" he roared out as he punched the wall, only an inch from the mall cop's head. The wall seemed to crack when Bruno withdrew his left fist and held it to his side. His knuckles were slowly dripping blood onto the porcelain tiled floor.
The poor mall cop went silent, too terrified to even speak. People began to crowd around the scene, clamoring and chatting amongst one another. Four other mall cops pushed through the crowd rather frantically, attempting to rush to the helpless cop's rescue. Bruno looked back and saw the four other security guards form a small circle behind him. He looked back at the cop he had against the wall and glared at him. "Are you willing to apologize now?" Bruno asked him, anger still laced in every word. The cop's throat was dry and he looked like he was on the verge of crying. "Y-yes... I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, please put me down, I swear it won't happen again," the man said as tears began to form. Bruno smacked his lips and lowered the man to his feet, releasing his collar. "Good, thank you for apologizing," Bruno said as he picked up his skateboard, "I'm sorry for being so irrational, I shouldn't have snapped on you, you didn't deserve that." Bruno scratched the back of his head and looked around at the people staring dumbfounded.
He felt so embarrassed now. He tucked his board under his arm and walked through the crowd of people, feeling theirs gazes burning through him. What he did was a bit harsh, but he couldn't control his anger. He's been like this ever since his mother had died from stress related illnesses. He was only 8 years old when she passed away. She had promised to take him to Las Vegas when he turned 17 for his birthday, a promise that was unable to be kept. He knew his dad was to blame; he always nagged her and yelled at her for practically nothing. All that stress of getting yelled and verbal abuse made heart weaker and her body strained. That's why Bruno hates him so much. He can never ever forgive him for how he treated his mom. He finally got out of the mall, he could hear the short mall cop wailing, still petrified with fear and upset. He hung his head, ashamed for taking out his rage on that poor man. He found himself in front of the graveyard, which were a few blocks away from his house. 'I guess now would be a good time to visit,' he thought solemnly He walked through, treading softly, as if not to disturb the sleeping dead beneath him. He stopped in front of a tombstone engraved with a cross and the inscription, "Here lies Mariana Oliver, Mother of Bruno Oliver and Wife to Mitchell Oliver," A fire ignited within him and he picked up a nearby rock and started scratching out his father's name. "Forgive me mother, I know you loved him but I just can't forgive him for the way he treated you..." he said, breaking into tears as he kept rubbing out his name.
Bruno broke down and cried, clawing the dirt and tried to bite back his pained crying. He sniffled several times before he sat up, his tears red from tears. He looked at his throbbing left hand, which had started to bleed again from stretching out the skin. He winced as he clenched and unclenched his hand, holding his wrist to try to ease the pain. He looked at his watch on his right arm. It was 2:35 P.M. He felt tired from the ordeal at the mall and decided he should go home and rest. He rose up slowly, and began walking away from his mother's grave. He looked up and blew a kiss to her in Heaven, smiling softly. "I love you momma," he said before exiting the graveyard. He made it back home, about time he thought to himself. His dad's raggedy 96' Honda civic was parked in the driveway along with two other Ford pickups. He rolled his eyes and walked into the house. He saw his father laid back on the couch with his feet propped up on the coffee table, sipping a beer with three other guys. They were watching a basketball game, a game between some team called the Mavericks and the Lakers. The score was 83-56, Lakers had the lead and it was third quarter.
"Bruno! Where have you been the whole time?" his father asked, trying to act nice to him. Bruno ignored his question and stepped into the kitchen, rummaging through the drawers for bandages. Mitchell turned his head to Bruno, watching him wrap his knuckles. "You can't hear or something? I asked you where were and what happened to your hand?" he asked, trying to sound authoritative. "Why the hell would it matter to you?" Bruno asked dryly. He finished wrapping his hand and clenched fist repeatedly, feeling the pain starting to let up. Mitchell licked his lips and stood up, facing Bruno. "What did you say to me?" he asked, acting like he didn't understand him the first time. Bruno rolled his eyes at him and looked directly at him. "You heard me the first time," Bruno snapped back, "and your greedy ass ate the rest of my toaster strudels when I told you to not touch them." Mitch stood for a second, scoffed, and started laughing along with the rest of his friends. "Seriously, you're mad about that?" he asked mockingly. Bruno growled at that comment. "It's the principle of the matter, Mitch," Bruno said, anger seeping from each word. Mitch took a swallow of his beer and set it down on the coffee table and started walking towards Bruno. He stopped inches away from Bruno, rolling his tongue in his cheek. "You tryin' to get smart with me? I am man of the house so I have power over you," he said.
God he smelled awful! The sickening aroma of beer and cigarettes stained his skin and clothes, it made Bruno want to vomit. "Bro, get out of my face," Bruno said, pushing Mitch away from him, "you #$%ing stink!" Mitch bounced back and grabbed Bruno by his left hand, squeezing it hard. Bruno yelled out in pain, nearly falling to his knees. "You dick, let go of my hand! Can't you see I wrapped it for a reason?" Bruno yelled at him. Mitch ignored him and twisted his hand, making him drop to his knee. "That's right, I own you, you do as I say and when I say," he said with an evil grin. Bruno grit his teeth and stood up to him, his eyes were burning with fury. He snatched his hand free from Mitch's grip and Mitch stepped back. "You know, mom did say if you ever touch or hurt me, take the situation into my own hands," Bruno said as a malicious grin crept across his face. Mitch growled and stomped his foot down. "Your mom was nothing but a worthless bitch! She had no life and I took her up one day and gave her great life! She was ungrateful and-" he was cut off when Bruno punched him in the stomach. Mitch doubled over, his mouth agape to scream but no audible sound came out. Bruno grabbed the back of his shirt and held him up straight, looking Mitch in his eyes. Pain and unexplainable fear was written all over his face. Bruno palmed Mitch's face and slammed the back of his head down on the hard floor. Mitch grasped the back of his head, writhing in pain, swearing and yelling. Bruno put his foot on Mitch's throat, looking eyes with him. "Stop squirming or I will crush your neck!" Bruno threatened. It was deathly serious and Mitch stopped and did as he was told like a soldier in line. "Don't you ever, ever, speak badly of mom in front of me again," Bruno warned him, "'cause if you do, I will beat the #$% out of you and I won't hold back. You're lucky I only punched you one time." Bruno looked up to see where Mitch's friends were. They flinched when Bruno looked at them and bolted out the door. He looked back at Mitch and around the living room. "Clean up this mess, this house looks like a pig sty," Bruno ordered as he removed his foot from his throat.
Mitch coughed harshly and struggled to get up, nearly collapsing the first three times. Bruno went upstairs to his room and dug out a sports bag from under a pile of dirty clothes. He began packing several pairs of pants and shirts, his toothpaste and toothbrush, deodorant, and a photo of his mom, with him wrapped snugly under her arm. He put on a black and white striped hoodie and zipped it up. He headed down the stairs and saw Mitch leaning on the wall, still trying to recover from the blows he took. Mitch looked at him questionably, tries to form words while catching his breath. "W... Where are...you going...?" he managed to ask between breaths. "I'm leaving. It's best for the both of us. I get out before you drive me crazy... and I won't be tempted to strangle you, so we both win," Bruno explained. He headed for the door and put his hand on the doorknob and stopped. "One more thing I want to tell you, he said as he opened the door, "I hope you burn in Hell Mitch, for all eternity." Bruno walked out and slammed the door behind him, leaving behind the years of torture for good. He had no idea where to go if he was running away...until an ideal spot popped in his mind. "Las Vegas! It's perfect, it's somewhere I've always wanted to go to," he said happily. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, still had $75. He picked up his skateboard out of the bushes by the steps and started walking down the street. "I'm going all the way this time... Vegas here I come!" He said as he began to dash down the street.