Sometimes you just need someone.
One was particularly strong. A drunken father, "You're fucking disrespectful little shit! You're going to fucking read the bible, you're gonna do exactly as I say, you're gonna give people the respect they fucking deserve!" He screamed into Bill's face. Bill on the ground, his father had shoved him across the room.
"Yes, sir! Please, don't hurt me! Yes, sir!" He tried helplessly, his mother just watching.
"You are a fucking useless, piece of shit just like the rest of the goddamn world!" His father screamed before storming out of Bill's room for another beer, leaving Bill trembling, crying on the floor.
"You should know better." His mother whispered before she left too.
It had taken hours to fall asleep. The memory was replaying over and over, torturing him, leaving him weeping by himself, curled up in a ball on the bed, wishing for someone to talk to.
That had been one of the worst incidents. What had happened earlier tonight had just brought up all the old memories he had long since repressed enough to live normally, but they still taunted him in the night.
He had tried to talk to his mother about his father. When he had called her selfish for something he could hardly remember now, she had screamed, told him he was a screwed up rude little selfish asshole. He had been crying, pleading with her to stop before running to his room where he had formed his plan.
Everyone was out now, or asleep. Stuart and Amy were sound asleep in their rooms. Bill had made sure their doors were locked so they wouldn't be the ones to find his body. His parents were out for after-dinner coffee at a neighbor's.
He finished his drink and knelt by the coffee table, crying, breathing heavily.
His life had no point. He was talent-less. He was a horrible person. And he had no one. He wouldn't be missed. It was just better this way. He put the gun to his head, and readied the shot.
But just as he was about to apply pressure to the trigger, the phone rang. He stopped; he might as well hear who was calling; probably just some teacher to complain about him too. The answering machine clicked on and a vaguely familiar voice streamed through it.
"Hey, Bill, this is Jeff, or just Izzy is fine. Um, I'm the one who sits across from you in science and we had to do this whole phone number exchange thing for homework, so could I get the homework from you? Call me back when-"
"Sorry, I couldn't get to the phone." He said grabbing it up. He might as well help this guy before he went on his way.
"You okay? You sound kind of upset...if you want, you can come over and talk about it." This was weird, a total stranger, basically, offering to talk to him.
"Um, I'm..." He took a deep breath. Something was telling him to talk to this kid. "Sure, where's your house?" Izzy gave him directions. "Thank you."
He ran out of the house and to Izzy's. Knocking on the door, it was opened quickly by a friendly looking kid who didn't hesitate to draw Bill into his arms after seeing the tears in his eyes. He hugged Izzy back and buried his face in Izzy's shoulder crying. "It'll be okay." He whispered, rocking Bill. "It'll be alright." And Bill felt like he could believe him, everything would be better now, much better. He had someone now, and somehow he knew that they would always be there.