FicWad

If you felt trapped in an abusive family, being made to feel un-welcome in your own home. If you were scared to voice your own oppinion in the fear of being beaten. If you spent all your free time being forced to clean, cook, wash and work; then were screamed at and hit constantly for not doing a good enough job... would you stay? I didn't.
One thursday night i had just come home from my second day of college. I was feeling quite down since i hadn't made any new friends yet and my courses were hard and boring, but never the less i came home and began tidying away the empty booze bottles dad had left laying empty, carelessly on the floor. I paced slowly through the house with five empty bottles of Jaques cider and began sorting them into the recycling bins in the kitchen. (The recycling bins that 'I' had set up in order to try and keep our house tidy and do a little something for the environment.) It wasn't long before my drunken father was shouting at me from the garden.
"Ryan!" he bellowed, i rolled my eyes, making my way out into the back garden. "Ryan you lazy little shit get out here!"
"Yeah dad..." i replied as i opened the back door leading into our once again scruffy garden. I'd only sorted out the garden on monday and already it looked messy and dirty again.
"Bring me a bottle of Jaques lad..." he smiled at me, clearly drunk.
"Dad you drank them all, the empty bottles are in the recycling," i sighed. Dad's face dropped, his eyebrows lowered as he stared at me, his small dark eyes peircing a hole right through me.
"No..." he began, staggering over to me untill his large, tall frame stood over my small, skinny posture. I tried my best not to cower. "I had a bottle left, i remember leaving one, i had five son, i only drank four."
"D-dad," i stammered "I picked up five empty bottles off the floor and put them into the recycling bin...". Dad took another step towards me, grabbing me by the collar of my My Chemical Romance tour t-shirt. I gulped, staring helplessly up at the large man, the man who was meant to love me.
"You steal a bottle,eh?" he breathed,
"N-no!" i begged,
"YOU BEEN STEALIN' MY JAQUES SON!" he shouted, raising his fist at me.
"Dad i promise, i haven't.." i pleaded, but i was interupted by a huge fist slamming straight into the side of my head. I stumbled as an agonising pain spread accross my left cheek. The only reason i didn't fall is because dad was still gripping my collar. He was still glaring at me, a wild look painted in his eyes as tears stung my own.
I tried not to cry, i really did, but it was like an automatic reaction to pain. Dad widened his eyes again, noticing one small, insignificant tear roll down my face. "You crying boy?" he asked me, my bottom lip quivered, i knew there was nothing i could say to convince him otherwise. "I'll give you something to fucking cry about!" he bellowed, his fist plummeting into my stomach. This time he let me fall to the hard, concrete floor. I whimpered in agony, but that only seemed to make him angrier. He kicked me hard in the stomach three times and i hugged myself tightly in a pathetic attempt to protect myself.
"Please.." i begged, "Stop!". To my surprise he did, he'd never hurt me like this before. I lay shaking on the floor as my own father stood over me and laughed. I felt so small, so humiliated, so pathetic.
The kicks to my stomach had made me feel queasy and i threw up violently onto the floor as dad continued to laugh at my beaten state. Once i'd emptied to contents of my stomach i managed to sit myself up, wincing in pain. "You're pathetic Ryan!" dad told me as he stumbled through the front door into the house. "Oh, and you can clean that up too." he smirked glancing over at the pile of vomit infront of me. He slammed the door behind him, leaving me feeling humilitaed and in pain, but most of all feeling alone. That was when i knew i had to leave.

I refused to even go back inside the house. I saw dad's new red and black checked jacket flung over the back of his old deck chair. I took it, it was too big, but i didn't care. I had a fiver, an eyeliner pencil and my phone in the pocket of my black skinny jeans. That was all i needed. I picked myself up off the floor and walked straight out of the front gate onto the street, and i continued walking all night. I didn't have any more belongings with me, i had nothing worth keeping anyway. The only thing i cared about at that moment in time was getting as far away from my family as possible. I hitched lifts as far as i could go, ate whatever i could get my hands on and went without washing for three days untill i reached an old, crooked looking town. I gazed at the tudor styled houses with white picket fences, blossom trees p0laced carefully in neat rows on the grassy pavements and the cobbled roads below my aching feet. And just like that i'd reached my destination, i finally had absolutley no idea where i was... and that was all i really wanted for now.