Chapter 4
Don't you just have those moments where you want to just curl up and die? Or hide and never show your face, or maybe just go to the graveyard, even though there is no one there you know who's died. Or maybe, if you just want to almost break down, those times, where even the littlest of things can set you off, because you know that the bigger things are lurking around every corner, hiding at the back of your head. And, you always know that they are there, and they hurt you. The Things you can't get rid of. The past.
"Mommy? Are you okay?" A young boy arose from the ground he had been lying on, his eyes filled with tears and a red mark pasted across his face. The boy had huge hazel eyes, and messed up short dark brown hair, his face was pale, and he wore loose pyjamas, and was sobbing.
"Mommy? Mom? Why won't you speak?" The young boy was now crying out, holding his mums hand, squeezing her hand tightly he started shouting for her to get up, but she just lay there, blank, lifeless. She was dead. But how did this happen?
Why the hell do I keep thinking about it? Why does it keep jumping back into my thoughts? Why can't I get rid of what happened? Must it always chase me…?
It was 6:00pm and a young boy was helping his mum cook dinner for a man who wouldn't appreciate it, who wouldn't thank his wife for feeding him, who was just a complete unappreciative man. The boys father of course. All of a sudden, there was a gentle sounding knock at the door.
Aw, who could that be at this time?
"Brad, honey would you get that for me? I have to clean up this kitchen in time for when daddy gets home." The woman who was helping Brad in the kitchen looked sweetly at the 7 or 8 year old boy, she was a soft nice looking woman, who he could always stay with, always be safe with, his mum.
"Okay!" Said a young enthusiastic Brad, unaware of who was at the door. He plodded over to the door and opened it, in front of him was complete darkness, it was only 6:00pm but it was winter so the outside in the town of Delucia.
"Mommy! There's nobody there!" He shouted towards the kitchen, and then suddenly, he felt a warm hand cover his mouth.
Yeah, I remember that, I remember the warmness of his hand against my lips, and I also remember everything he said…
"Don't move! I said don't fucking move!" The man with the warm hands shouted to the boys mother he had pulled out a piece of metal, weirdly shaped, a trigger…It was a gun, he was pointing at the woman. Ordering her to get down, and tell him where a safe was.
Yeah, what fucking safe? Why just do that? Maybe it was the reason I became a cop to stop people like him, just some robber who made a slip up on his thievery and killed an innocent woman and left a boy to be left and tortured by his fucking drunken dad…
The guy kept ordering the woman; he was demanding and doing different hand gestures.
"What the hell are you talking about; get your hands off my son!" She was now standing up to the man and replying with demands of her own, she wanted him to get off her son and take what he wanted just leave her alone. She began walking closer towards him, she was ready for a fight, but it was as if she was only threatening him, she couldn't really take on a man with a gun.
"Get the fuck away you stupid slag!" The man shouted at the top of his voice, he then smacked the butt of his gun heavily down onto her skull; she fell to the ground, lifeless. He looked at what he had done in shock and he then smacked the young Brad across the face and through him across the floor, he fell, and the man ran out of the house, chanting random swear words to himself….This wasn't meant to happen?
Yeah, that's how I got stuck with my dad, it sucked, I remember calling the police, and them coming over and telling me that my mom was dead, and that I would have to stay with my dad…It's unfortunate that they didn't know who he was under neigh his friendly mask that he put on every morning for work, and interacting with other members of the public, if only he wore it for his only son. Fucking abusive bastard! I hate him. I always have, he isn't the reason I go to the graveyard, it's because of what he did to me, and what part of me died after mom went…
"Hello! Brad, dude what's up with you today, you been like zoned out all day!" Richard Aiken had spun Brad around on his chair and was now shouting down his ears.
Haha! Daydreaming on the job! Man, that guy needs to shut his brain down for once!
Richard Aiken was a young member of S.T.A.R.S he was about the same age as Jill, around 23, he had shortish light browny blonde hair and wore an undone orange vest with a S.T.A.R.S t-shirt on under neigh, he also wore some baggy dark blue trousers pulled over his boots. He was standing there waving his arms in front of Brads face and Brad, who was only just skipping back to reality, looked at him.
"What? Oh, man, I…I'm sorry, ya know, I, I'm just tired…And well..." Brad stuttered as he struggles to get used to the fact he was back in the real world.
Oh man, now everyone's looking at me…I hate it when people look at me…man I feel so embarrassed.
Brad could feel his cheeks go red as everyone began crowding around him and telling him to get up, time had past by quickly, and they wanted to go to the pub to celebrate Joseph's promotion.
"Come man, we aint exactly just found ya looking at Jill's' ass come on, let's go!" Chris blurted out at Brad, in a joking yet harsh tone.
What the hell!? I hate going red like this, I just don't like y'all looking at me, stupid prick Chris…
"Sure, yeah, sorry, I was miles away. Urm, let's go, right?" Brad, looked sadly towards the others, Chris just kept treating him like shit, and now his moody side had kicked in, he hated it when they made him moody though, because every time he got pissed off they would just pass stupid comments like "Oh, time of the month probably?" and "His dog aint giving him any?"
Yeah, gotta forget about it all, just go to the pub, and get drunk. Yeah, that's the plan. Nice. I like it.
