Disclaimer: I do not own them, nor do I want to be sued.
Author's Note: This is shown through the eyes of Dave's brother, Vince. It's when Dave is about twelve and Vince is about thirteen.
--
It was a cool fall day. The leaves were red, orange, and yellow. But every time I saw a brilliant red leaf, I shutter to think of its liquid comparison. It's Friday and I'm walking home with Dave from school. We're talking about nothing; girls, homework, etc. We reach the front door and Dave hesitates to open it. Walking inside, I can smell the cigarette smoke and stale beer in the air.
"Welcome home, boys! How was school?" Mom asks as she kisses us both on the head.
"Fine." We say in unison as we hang up our coats. Dad walks out of the bedroom and looks us over.
"Hi, boys." He says, slurring his words.
"Hi, Dad." I reply. Dave tries to walk into his bedroom but Dad stops him by putting his hand on Dave's chest.
"Where do you think you're going?"
"My bedroom." Dave says, trying to avoid confrontation. Because he's younger, he's the scapegoat for Dad's beatings.
"Your bedroom!" he lets out a small chuckle. "Did you pay for that bedroom?"
"No, sir."
Dad moves his hand from Dave's chest to his neck and makes a tight grasp.
"That's right." He says, obviously tightening his grip. "You think about that next time you say something's yours."
Dave nods yes but Dad doesn't let go. He shoves him against the wall and walks over to the couch and starts watching TV. I hurry over to Dave and help him up.
"You okay?"
"As okay as I can be."
He walks into our bedroom and flops down on the bed. He reaches from his backpack and pulls out his homework and starts doing it. I do the same as him. We quietly do our homework like we're supposed to but I hear Dad fighting with Mom. I can hear her crying and him hitting her. Dave flinches with the sound of her being beaten. Then it's silent.
We look at each other and know what it means. It means Dad's coming to our room. It means Dad's going to hit us. As if on schedule, the door flies open and Dad bursts in, screaming. He grabs me by the back of my neck and slams me against the wall. The breath is knocked out of me. I can see Dave, burying his face in his knees as he's crunched up against the headboard of his bed.
Dad continues slamming me into the fall. I can see my blood on the wall, dripping down. He grows tired and stops. Dad turns around, about to leave, but stops. He sees that Dave sits there untouched. Dad walks over to Dave and makes him stand up. Dave is visibly trembling. Dad hesitates, the punches him hard four times in the stomach then stomps off. Dave and I lie on the floor in the fetal position. I can see Dave has a small trickle of blood coming from his mouth.
"You, okay?" I ask, out of breath.
"As okay as I can be." He replies.
We both let out a small chuckle. And we wait to regain our strength. We wait for tomorrow to come in our little house on Garden Street.
--
R/R!
Author's Note: This is shown through the eyes of Dave's brother, Vince. It's when Dave is about twelve and Vince is about thirteen.
--
It was a cool fall day. The leaves were red, orange, and yellow. But every time I saw a brilliant red leaf, I shutter to think of its liquid comparison. It's Friday and I'm walking home with Dave from school. We're talking about nothing; girls, homework, etc. We reach the front door and Dave hesitates to open it. Walking inside, I can smell the cigarette smoke and stale beer in the air.
"Welcome home, boys! How was school?" Mom asks as she kisses us both on the head.
"Fine." We say in unison as we hang up our coats. Dad walks out of the bedroom and looks us over.
"Hi, boys." He says, slurring his words.
"Hi, Dad." I reply. Dave tries to walk into his bedroom but Dad stops him by putting his hand on Dave's chest.
"Where do you think you're going?"
"My bedroom." Dave says, trying to avoid confrontation. Because he's younger, he's the scapegoat for Dad's beatings.
"Your bedroom!" he lets out a small chuckle. "Did you pay for that bedroom?"
"No, sir."
Dad moves his hand from Dave's chest to his neck and makes a tight grasp.
"That's right." He says, obviously tightening his grip. "You think about that next time you say something's yours."
Dave nods yes but Dad doesn't let go. He shoves him against the wall and walks over to the couch and starts watching TV. I hurry over to Dave and help him up.
"You okay?"
"As okay as I can be."
He walks into our bedroom and flops down on the bed. He reaches from his backpack and pulls out his homework and starts doing it. I do the same as him. We quietly do our homework like we're supposed to but I hear Dad fighting with Mom. I can hear her crying and him hitting her. Dave flinches with the sound of her being beaten. Then it's silent.
We look at each other and know what it means. It means Dad's coming to our room. It means Dad's going to hit us. As if on schedule, the door flies open and Dad bursts in, screaming. He grabs me by the back of my neck and slams me against the wall. The breath is knocked out of me. I can see Dave, burying his face in his knees as he's crunched up against the headboard of his bed.
Dad continues slamming me into the fall. I can see my blood on the wall, dripping down. He grows tired and stops. Dad turns around, about to leave, but stops. He sees that Dave sits there untouched. Dad walks over to Dave and makes him stand up. Dave is visibly trembling. Dad hesitates, the punches him hard four times in the stomach then stomps off. Dave and I lie on the floor in the fetal position. I can see Dave has a small trickle of blood coming from his mouth.
"You, okay?" I ask, out of breath.
"As okay as I can be." He replies.
We both let out a small chuckle. And we wait to regain our strength. We wait for tomorrow to come in our little house on Garden Street.
--
R/R!