Thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter! Enjoy this chappie...
Taking a deep breath, I place my hand on the doorknob and turn, praying my father hadn't drank too much and would just let me flee to my bedroom. My prayers are not answered for when I step through the door his head snaps to me and a look of pure rage crosses his face.
"Where in the hell have you been?" he shouts, jumping off of the couch and approaching me. I hesitantly take a few steps backwards until my back hits the door.
"I-I-I went walking and s-some boys attacked me, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be late" I stutter through my excuse. I knew that he didn't give a damn if I was attacked, and that no excuse would ever be good enough to him.
"I don't give a shit if those boys attacked you, hell I wouldn't give a shit if they killed you, would have finally gotten rid of you" he screams in my face, spittle coming out in bucket loads. His breath reeks of beer.
"Your poor mother, coming home and not seeing her house clean and everything unpacked. She was very upset" he says, trying to somehow make me feel guilty.
"You didn't tell me to do any of that" I tell him in a voice nothing above a whisper. I instantly regret the words that come out of my mouth.
"Don't you backchat me!" my father shrieks, grabbing an empty beer bottle off the floor and hurling it at my head, I duck and the bottle luckily misses me and hits the wall behind me, shattering. I look to him in shock, my heart beating so fast I am surprised it cannot be heard hammering against my chest.
Further enraged that he missed me, he grabs my throat and drags me up the wall so we are eye level. He isn't squeezing hard enough to make me choke, but it sure was hurting a lot. I stay still; knowing if I try and get away he'll punish me worse.
"DON'T. EVER. BACKCHAT. ME."
With every word he slams my head back against the wall with such force that the wall cracks. He stops and squeezes his hand on my throat preventing me from breathing; I panic and grab his wrist, struggling to get him off. He watches me with a sick grin on his face as I struggle. He keeps squeezing for about 10 seconds then lets ago suddenly, dropping me to the ground. I sit there and try to catch my breath. I rub my tender neck, knowing there would be a bruise there in the morning.
He is not done though. He kicks me in the side once. Twice. Three times. I gasp in pain with every kick to the ribs.
"Get out of my house and don't come back until tomorrow!" He screams, giving me one last kick to my side, disappearing around the corner and down the hallway where I know my mother is. When my father is beating me or screaming at me she usually stays in her room or sometimes just watches and does nothing. It hurts more than the beatings, that she just does nothing when she knows it is wrong.
I scramble up and quickly get out of the house before he comes back.
I walk to the field near our house, wincing at the pain it causes in my side to move. When I reach the field, I spot an abandoned car seat. Deciding that was probably the best place to sleep if not the only I walk over and sit on it, kicking the rubbish surrounding it out of the way.
I bury my throbbing head in my hands and push down the bile that rises to my throat. Why were my parents so cruel to me? What had I done to deserve so much hate from them? Many times I had thought of running away but I didn't have the guts. Where would I go? I end up homeless on the streets, with no food, money or shelter. At least at home I had a roof over my head and the bare minimum of food.
During my mulling I hear light footsteps steadily growing louder, indicating someone was walking my way. I look up and my eyes meet those of a boy with tan skin and dark brown almost black hair. I could not see him very clearly in the dark. He comes to a halt beside me. Before either of us can say anything, my stomach lurches and I have to lean over the seat to puke up the little food and liquids in my tummy. I can feel the seat sink as the newcomer sit next to me and lays a gentle hand on my back. Normally any contact meant pain for me but the hand does not strike me, just comforts me.
"Are you ok?" The boy asks me once I have chucked up all I could. He seemed generally concerned but I did not trust him.
"I'm fine" I say although I wasn't. My side was in agony, my head was throbbing and my neck was so tender. I did not tell the boy this though, for it did not really matter. I had had much worse done to me.
We fall into a peaceful silence, both of us leant back on the seat and gazing up at the stars.
"What's your name?" the boy asks curiously, breaking the silence
"Michael, what is yours?" I introduce myself for the third time that day.
"Johnny" he says, giving me a small smile. I smile half-heartedly back and we fall into silence once more.
My head is still throbbing painfully; I wince when it gives a particularly sharp prod.
"Are you ok?" He asks, turning to me.
"Yeah, just a headache is all"
"You are hurt, did some Soc jump you?" Johnny presses on. I really didn't feel like talking right now, every time I did it just increased the pain in my battered head. I shake my head no, the Socs had almost beat me up yes, but they didn't get to thanks to Two-Bit.
"Your parents?" He asks hesitantly.
Bingo, he guessed it. I was going to shake my head no but looking at the boy maybe just a year or so older than me, he seemed so friendly and harmless that I couldn't lie. I nod my head slightly, not meeting his eyes. He sighs and looks down at his shoes.
"Where are you hurt?" he asks.
"Uh, back of my head" I tell him. He looks at me expectantly so I turn with my back to him for him to get a better look. I feel his fingers parting my hair to see the wound. He gasps.
"Gee you are bleeding like a stuck pig, you need to go to a hospital" he exclaims. I protest immediately. No way was I going to the hospital, if my father, no when my father found out he'd beat me worse.
"No, no I'll leave it, I'm fine" I say hurriedly.
"It's ok, I hate hospitals too" he says.
"Who likes them?" I reply, amused. We both laugh a bit.
"You could come to the Curtis's, they will patch you up" he offers and it dawns on me that this must be one of Two Bits gang. I really didn't want to invade their house or be a burden on them but it was either that or stay out here in the cold, risking my head getting infected which wouldn't be pleasant and would guarantee me a trip to the hospital.
"Uh, ok" I say, not sure if this was a good idea or not.
"Don't worry they let everyone in their house" he smiles at me and gets up, offering me his hand. I grab it and hoist myself up, gasping when my side erupts in agonizing pain. Johnny looks at me in concern.
"It's ok, just hurts a bit is all" I smile to try and ease his worry.
He hooks his right arm under my armpit and pulls my arm on my non injured side over his shoulder, which feels slightly awkward since I am quite a bit shorter than him so my arm has to strain to stretch over his shoulder. Johnny supports most of my weight as we make our way over to the Curtis' house.
The outside of the Curtis house is in no better condition than mine, chipped paint and a hell of a load of rubbish out front. The Curtis house looks much more homely and friendlier than mine though, I can hear lots of laughter and talking from inside. The TV is turned up so loud; it's a surprise the neighbours don't complain. I look to Johnny. He has a fond smile on his lips. He turns to me.
"Ready to go in?"