Oh God. It’s happening again. Noise from downstairs, something breaking.
Well, it’s not a dream, but it’s still probably nothing. Ever since that break in I freak out about everything. I just need to take a deep breath and calm down.
My room was silent for a long time and I was just about to fall back to sleep when I heard heavy footsteps and muffled screaming. Okay, now I know I wasn’t just hearing things. Something bad was happening downstairs, and it sounded like my mom was in trouble.
I didn’t bother putting my shirt on, I just ran out of my room. As quietly as possible, I went down the stairs. All the lights were still off, and nothing looked out of place. If I was just being paranoid again... As I came into the living room, I knew.
The front door was busted open. Someone had kicked it in. The glass in the window was broken, which was probably what I heard breaking. Suddenly I realized that if someone was in the house, I had no way to protect myself. Looking around the room, I couldn’t find anything.
Slowly, I headed into the kitchen. At least there I could grab a knife or something. Before I passed through the doorway, someone grabbed me from behind. I couldn’t see anything, so I just started kicking. It wasn’t working.
After a few minutes of meaningless struggle, the intruder threw me on the floor of the kitchen. Thankfully, I managed to get my hands out, so I avoided landing on my face. Before I could stand up, the lights came on. As I stood up, I came face to face with my worst nightmare.
I couldn’t believe this. This had to be a dream. There was no way this was actually happening. Stuff like this only happens in the movies, and on television. Not in real life, not to my mom and I.
“It’s been awhile hasn’t it?” My dad smirked. Before I had time to react he pinned me against the wall so I couldn’t get away. Being this close I could smell the alcohol on his clothes. He’d been drinking, what a surprise. “You know, I’ve really missed you, son. I bet you’ve missed me too.”
When I didn’t say anything he slammed my face against the wall, hard. I could feel something, probably blood, running down from my eyebrow. “Say you missed me, son.”
“Fuck you.” I spat.
“That’s no way to talk to your father.” She shook his head, sighing. “If only I had been around. Then you would have turned out better. But no. Because of your mother and the divorce, you turned into some faggot. It’s tragic.”
What was he even talking about? He left mom way before she left him. And how does he know about me? I haven’t seen him, let alone talked to him since the divorce was finalized. This was crazy.
I thought he was going to let me go, but instead he punched me square in the face. I heard a crack, and knew my nose was broken. Sure enough blood started to pour from it. He was going to kill me, and probably my mom too. “Where’s mom?”
He shook his head, letting me go. “Oh, we don’t need to worry about her.” All of a sudden he punched me in the stomach and I collapsed against the wall.
With me not paying attention he grabbed one of the pans hanging over the stove. In a flash of pain, he brought it down over my head and everything went black.
At first, when my eyes finally opened, I had no idea where I was. As my eyes adjusted to the light, I realized we were still in the house. We were in the living room. My mom was beside me, tied to a chair. She looked like she was dead, but I could see her chest moving. She was still breathing. Everything would be okay.
I tried to stand up, but I was tied up too. Desperately, I searched the room looking for my father. It was still dark, which meant plenty of shadows to hide in. I didn’t see him anywhere, but I knew he was there.
My mom started to wake up beside me, and within minutes, my dad stepped out of the shadows. The look in his eye was terrifying. He wanted to hurt us, and he didn’t care if he had to kill us in the process.
I needed to get out of this chair. I needed to help my mom. As I struggled against whatever he used to tie me to the chair with, I could feel it ripping my skin. All I was doing was turning my wrists into a bloody mess.
He laughed, casually walking toward my mom. “Don’t even bother trying.” Then he turned his full attention to mom. As I continued to struggle against the restraints, he grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her head back.
She turned to look at me. Our eyes met for a second, and I could see all the fear in them. It just made me more desperate to get free.
With his free hand, he punched her hard in the stomach. I could tell from the look on her face that she was in pain. And there was nothing we could do. I felt so helpless.
He let go of her hair before punching her in the face. When his hand came away, there was blood on the knuckles.
I continued fighting the restraints, desperate to help my mom. I didn’t care that my wrists were bloody and broken beyond recognition. The more I bled, the easier it would be to just slip my hands out.
Beside me, my dad was still working on my mom. I wasn’t exactly sure what was going on because I was more preoccupied with getting free. Once I was out, I could call the cops. Then once and for all, my dad would go to jail and we would never have to worry about him again.
Suddenly, my right wrist slipped out of the restraint. I don’t think I’d ever been so relieved in my life. Blood was everywhere, and it was cut to shreds, but I didn’t care. Just as I was freeing my other hand, my dad noticed what I was doing.
He pulled me out of the chair and threw me on the ground. “Well, well. Look who thought he escaped.” He kicked me in the ribs. All the air left my lungs, and I started coughing. He kicked me again, and now I was coughing blood.
He was doing serious damage now. I needed to find a way to get help. Glancing around the room, I noticed my mom still tied up to the chair. She looked terrible. Her face was all bloody and broken. Her arms were bruised.
He really did want to kill us.
He swung his leg to kick me again, but this time I grabbed his ankle and he fell down on the floor beside me. Now all I had to do was get upstairs to my room where my cell phone was.
It was easier said than done. My legs felt like jelly, and as soon as I was on my feet, I almost fell down again. My dad was grabbing for my ankles, so I ran. Breathing was difficult. It felt like I was suffocating.
My dad got up, and was right behind me. “Where the fuck are you going?” He yelled.
As much as I wanted to turn around and see how close he was, I just focused on getting up the stairs. Halfway up, he grabbed my shoulders and pulled me backwards.
My head bounced off the ledge of one of the steps. I had never felt pain so instense in my life, and I was surprised it hadn’t knocked me out. It was probably the adrenaline keeping me awake.
I kicked my dad in the shins and he collapsed on the spot. It took me awhile to stand back up, because of the pain in my head. As soon as I was up, I took off running up the remainder of the steps and made it into my bedroom.
My dad made it up at the same time, but I slammed the door in his face. He threw his whole body against the door, but I forced it back. For a minute, I thought he was going to break open the door and beat me to a bloody pulp. But my adrenaline was still pumping. It gave me the strength to push the door completely closed and lock it.
On the other side of the door I could hear my dad throwing himself against the door. I didn’t have much time. The door wouldn’t hold for long.
My cell phone was lying on my dresser where it always is. I grabbed it and dialed 911. It felt like hours before someone picked up.
Just as I finished telling the officer my address, my door broke open. It was old, and made of wood. I wasn’t really that surprised he broke it.
Before I had time to react, my dad attacked. He tackled me, forcing both of us on the floor. He straddled my waist and just punched my face again and again.
I heard a crack, and knew it was my nose breaking. But I didn’t care. Soon, the cops would be here, and he would go to prison for the rest of his life.
A//N: Wow, it took me a lot longer to post this than I would have liked. Anyway, I hope it was worth the wait :)