Misjudged

Chapter 36: Broken Echoes

The air in the Thompson household was thick with tension, a precursor to the storm that was about to erupt. Jake, nursing the wounds of a shattered football dream, faced the wrath of a father discontent with his son's perceived failures.

Jake's Dad: (angrily) "You're good for nothing, Jake! Football was your one chance, and you blew it!"

Jake: (defensively) "Dad, it's not that simple. I got injured, and the doctor said—"

Jake's Dad: (interrupting) "Excuses! You always have an excuse, don't you? You're a disappointment."

Each word was a blow, leaving Jake stumbling emotionally. The room, once a haven, transformed into a battlefield where the wounds weren't visible but cut deep nonetheless.

Jake: (pleading) "Dad, I tried my best. I know how much you wanted me to succeed in football, but sometimes things don't go as planned."

Jake's Dad: (sarcastically) "Best? Your best is never good enough. Look at you now, a failure with a useless leg. What good are you?"

The weight of expectations, the bitterness of shattered dreams, hung heavily in the air. Jake's eyes betrayed the storm of emotions raging within him.

Jake: (softly) "I miss Mom, Dad. I know you do too, but you can't keep blaming me for everything that goes wrong."

Jake's Dad: (resentfully) "Your mother would be ashamed of what you've become. A cripple and a burden."

The verbal barrage struck a nerve. Jake, wounded not just physically but in the core of his being, retreated to his room. The symphony of destruction that followed was both a catharsis and a cry for understanding.

Inside, the room became an arena of destruction. Jake unleashed his frustration on every object in his path, the crashing sounds a symphony of despair. Amidst the chaos, one fragile item remained untouched—the picture of his late mother.

As the tempest within him subsided, Jake clung to the only solace he had left. He hugged the picture tightly, seeking refuge in the memories it held. Exhausted and emotionally drained, he succumbed to sleep, the remnants of his shattered world cradled in his arms.

In the dead of night, the fragile peace was shattered once again. The sound of breaking glass pierced through the silence, jolting Jake awake. Gripping a baseball bat, his only defense against the unknown, he cautiously navigated the shadows of his own home.

The dimly lit hallway became a labyrinth of uncertainty, and a jump scare awaited Jake at every corner. Suddenly, a figure emerged from the darkness—his father, disoriented and unintentionally colliding with Jake's defensive swing. The unintended blow sent him tumbling down the staircase.

Jake: (panicking) "Dad! Are you okay?"

Racing to his father's side, Jake was relieved to find him conscious and seemingly unharmed. He sprinted upstairs to call for help, leaving behind a man bruised both physically and emotionally.

But fate is a capricious companion, and upon Jake's return, he found a chilling tableau—the lifeless body of his father, a pool of blood seeping from his head.

The room, once filled with the echoes of broken dreams, now held a haunting silence, punctuated only by the weight of Jake's breath as he grappled with the grim reality before him.