Adam's POV
I walked home. My mind was full of thoughts of, well, confusion. I was achy, in all aspects of the word. My muscles ached, as well as my heard. That sounds really corny, but oh well! It's true.
I'd known that something was wrong. I mean, I'm not experienced in the area of 'friends', but I don't think I'm supposed to feel this way. Especially about my best friend.
I reached my front door. I seriously considered whether or not I should bother. Charlie and I had talked many times about suicide. He'd always stressed how bad it was. For me, it seemed a lot better.
My dad must have seen me through the window, because he opened the door and pulled me inside. Sometimes I wonder if everyone can read my mind. I thought about this again, because my dad shouted, "Did you think you could just forget about us, and run away?"
He was drunk. I could smell it.
"No…I was just trying to…uh…remember something." The door closed behind us. The house was dimly lit. The atmosphere was dark. Oh no! I thought.
My dad threw me across the hard wood floor of the living room. I trembled, but didn't move. My dad never talked when he beat me. He used all his energy just to hurt.
He advanced. I knew better than to run, or even move. Sometimes I thought I'd better not breathe either.
My thoughts drifted to Charlie as I took my father's foot in my side without protest.
I wondered if Charlie was going through the same thing. I didn't think so, but I couldn't know for sure. One thing I could tell, was that this beating wouldn't hurt much. My father hadn't been provoked, and he would be tired from his day at work. So, until he drank a dozen more, I wouldn't be in any real danger.
Travis and Brad walked around the corner. They stared at me, while another blow from his shoe hit me. The difference between Brad and Travis, was that Travis would laugh at me while I was beaten, and Brad would look as if he felt my pain. But, conscience or no conscience, his sympathy never lasted long.
My father pulled me to my feet, and though my lip was bleeding, he slugged me across the face. I didn't even flinch. I was used to it by now. He re-hit my black eye, and my jaw cracked under his merciless blows.
He stood, tall and menacing. Only now did I dare move. He seemed content.
I sunk to the floor, my body shaking in fright. My jaw hurt, along with my eye. He towered over me. He raised his hand high about his head. I shrunk, wishing I could disappear through the wall.
His palm came crashing down on me. All our "sessions" started and ended like that. The relationship between my father and me was hate-hate as far as I could tell.
My father stalked off, and Travis came. He smirked, nudging me with his toe. His army boot was hard against my tender flesh. I looked at him, obviously in pain.
Brad was next to him, obviously feeling guilty. Sometimes I wondered what Brad would be like if Travis weren't around.
I glared at them both.
"Leave me alone…please."
Brad looked ready to, but Travis grabbed the collar of his shirt.
"No." He said simply.
"Are you even human? Can't you see that you're as much of a problem as him?" It hurt for me to yell, but I did anyway.
Travis frowned, picking me up by my shirt.
"Say that again, maggot."
"You're worse than him!" I found myself shouting in his face. Big mistake. He shoved me into the wall, repeating my father's actions and kicking me. His army boots made it tem times worse.
"You want worse, maggot? I'll give you worse!" He picked up the coffee table.
It was a hard mahogany, with a glass center. He raised it high above his head. His face was miserable, and raging.
He lowered the table swiftly towards me. I shielded my face instinctively with my hands. It stopped, just inches from my face. Brad's hand was on Travis's shoulder.
"Don't, Travis." He mumbled.
Travis eyes him, and shrugged his hand off.
"Whose side are you on, Brad?"
Brad looked at me, pained. He wouldn't dare defy Travis when he was in a mood like that.
Travis turned his attention back to me.
"That's what I thought." He muttered.
He sent the table crashing over me. The shards of broken glass scattered over my skin, causing scratches and cuts. They were fairly deep, and I yelped. Travis smiled.
He hit me with the table twice more. He put it down, and marched off in search of my mother. She came into the room, and shrieked in anguish.
"Adam!"
Brad glared at Travis, who looked very pleased with himself.
"I told you, mom." He snarled.
I didn't move. What good would it do?