Part 2

Ric couldn't sleep. It was after midnight and he had school tomorrow, so he should be sleeping. He just couldn't.
So many thoughts...
He couldn't get the image of his father out of his head. He hadn't really believed in light at the end of the tunnel back then, had he?
He could remember how he just wanted it to stop; make it all go away...

---

"Eric! Get in here!" again his attempt to just say hi and then escape to his room failed.
"What is it, dad?" he asked, trying not to show how scared he was. He could smell that his father was drunk as usual, even from way over here.
"Is your lip swollen?"
Ric swallowed. His father was the one who had given him that swollen lip yesterday.
"Yes, dad," he said trying to stay strong.
Owen was too drunk to be able to focus properly, and he was struggling for a moment, trying to see his son clearer.
"Have you been fighting again?"
"No I haven't," Ric replied a bit too fast.
"Are you telling me," his father said, and Ric could see he was angry, "that you have a swollen lip, but you haven't been fighting?"
Ric nodded.
"Have you been bashed?"
He nodded again. "Yes, dad."
"By who?" Owen asked.
Ric started sweating, This could be a trick question. If he lied his father might beat him up for being a liar, but if he told the truth... well, he could be beaten up for being a liar anyway.
"You," he said, regretting it the moment it slipped out of his mouth.
Complete silence for six long seconds.
"Get over here," Owen said. Ric was too afraid to tell if he was angry or not. He knew he had no choice. If he didn't do as he was told then he would be beaten up later. If he did as he was told there was a small chance he wouldn't be beaten up... Maybe his father just wanted to talk?
Deep inside Ric knew that wasn't even close to reality, but he had to tell himself something to find enough courage to obey.
Slowly, and with shaking knees he walked over to his father.
Owen stared at his face, taking in the image of Ric's swollen lip, bruises and wounds.
The fist came out of nowhere and hit him so hard it blackened before Ric's eyes for a second.
"There's no wonder why I beat you up," Owen said, "You're weak, son."
For the first time Ric wasn't just scared of his father, he felt angry. He was maybe weak, but he had no choice! If he didn't do as he was told he would beat him up, and if he did as he was told he would get beaten up for being weak!
"I'm not your son," Ric said, grinding his teeth. He had no idea where the words came from, they just came.
"What?" Owen said, and suddenly he sounded confused.
"I'm not your son, and I'm not weak!" Ric said, growing more confident when he saw his father's confused expression.
The expression didn't last, quick as a flash he was back to angry, bitter and violent Owen A. Dalby.
"Now, that's better," he whispered. Ric was shocked, of all reactions from his father this was probably the one he had expected least.
"Finally showing some strength..." Owen muttered to himself, "but you're wrong, son. You're not a tough guy called Dalby. Your name is Eric, and you're a weak loser!"
"No, I'm not." Ric replied, surprising himself by being so calm.
The fist hit him again, right in the eye. It hurt like hell, and Ric felt like he couldn't take much more pain before he fainted.
"You killed your mother, and you're weak!"
Ric knew that he had to do something, he was badly beaten up, and fainting could be dangerous. It was not like his father would care about helping him up and getting him a doctor, or his insulin.
For the first time in his life Ric Dalby fought back.
"I'm not weak!" he yelled, smashing his fist in his father's face as hard as he could. Reduced by the alcohol Owen fell and hit his head in the wall behind them.
Ric grabbed him by the collar on his shirt and hit him again. A crushing sound revealed a broken nose, and his face was already wounded.
All this anger... Ric just wanted to get back at him for all he had ever done to him; all he had ever done to make his life a living hell. He just wanted to hurt him as much as possible.
Ric tried to hit again, but missed and smashed his fist in to the wall. It hurt, and desperate to cause his father as much pain as possible he started kicking.
Owen growled in pain when Ric's knee hit his crotch. He was already badly hurt, but not bad enough to stop him from fighting back.
Another fist hit Ric right in the face and he felt very dizzy all of a sudden.
In one last desperate attempt to make all the pain from the last years go away he hit as hard as he could. He wasn't sure if it was hard or not, but he used every single fibre in his body to focus on hitting as hard as he could. He didn't care if he hit or not, he just needed to hit harder than he had ever done before in his life.
Owen was cramping, and to keep him steady Ric lifted his knee to keep him up against the wall.
He was shaking, exhausted from the fighting, and terrified of his own reactions, and that made him fall.
He fell over his father, and just laid there on the floor for a second, breathing. He was exhausted and scared. He tried to sit up, and saw his father new to him on the floor.
Owen was just laying there, his eyes were open, but he didn't breathe.
Oh no, he had killed him! Ric couldn't breathe, he had never been more scared in his life.
Shaking like a leaf in the fall he sat up a bit more.
"Dad?" he whispered, trying to breathe normally, but it was too painful. Owen didn't answer.
"Dad?" Ric repeated, a bit louder now. Still now answer.
Ric swallowed. He couldn't find it in himself to check his pulse, instead he got up, still shaking. He didn't even notice the pain, he just had one thought in his head.
Still with his eyes wide open he looked at his father one last time before he opened the door and ran.