The Way It Could've Been

Chapter 10, Mark...

I woke up on my bed. Shirtless. I am lying on my side, facing the window. Ever since my dad left, I changed so much. I was mean because of my father. And I was meaner when my father left. I was in middle school. I just hated everyone except for Simon and my other friends. I shifted away from my curtains and the sun on my face and faced the other way.

I hated him but thought about him so much. A sudden pain shot through my forehead, and I groaned. I sat up, but the pain was worse, so I laid back down. Hangover...

I grabbed the cup from the side of my bed and chugged the lukewarm water. Sitting up and walking to the restroom. I brush my teeth, barely remembering what happened last night. All I remember was that I went to a party, I and Julian talked outside, and now we're friends. And then I remember I'm going over to his house today. I groan a bit, not wanting to. I'm so tired from last night.

I looked in the mirror and saw the dark circles under my eyes, I sighed. I put my toothbrush back when I finished.

I walk back into my room to put on a shirt. I stop at the mirror and look at the faded scars left on my body by my deadbeat dad. I ran a finger against my belly, where there was a scar. The worst one. I remember hearing my mom getting beaten by my dad. The punches. The smacks. How she yelped and was in pain at every hit or punch. She told me to hide, and I did. But I couldn't take hearing my mom scream in pain anymore. I ran out of the closet, my hiding spot, and grabbed something I could hurt him badly with. A pocketknife...

I ran out of my room and into the kitchen where there was broken glass on the floor. I ran to my dad and held the knife over my head. The knife dug into my father's leg. He grunted and yelled.

"You little fuck!" He grabbed me and lifted me off the ground. There wasn't anything else I could've done except hurt him with the knife, and the blade was halfway into his leg. I was just a scrawny little boy with no fighting abilities whatsoever. He threw me to the floor. The glass slashed my stomach and my arms. I screamed in pain. I couldn't move though; every single shift shot through my whole body and made me scream louder.

I looked at the scar on my stomach in the mirror. Glad. Glad that my dad left. Glad that I finally learned how to protect myself and my mom.

I walked away from the mirror and to my wardrobe. Pulling the handle open to a neatly stacked, three rows of folded clothes. And dug through them. Finding something that looks good.

I shouldn't walk too much right now. The doctor said I couldn't walk a lot after I hurt my leg. But it felt a lot better. But better to be safe than sorry. I slipped my arms through the shirt and pulled it down my abdomen. I changed out of my plaid pajamas and put my legs through some black shorts.

I fix my hair and groan as I realize I have to take a shower too. I took my shirt back off and walked back into the restroom.

. . .

I dry my wet hair with a towel and then begin to fix it. I want to look good for Julian but not too good... Just so he'd barely notice.

I grab my crutches and begin to walk out of my room. I grabbed my phone and keys, and I walked out of the house and into my black car. I put the key into the ignition and began to drive.

I knocked on the house Julian gave me the address of. It was a two-story brick house in a neighborhood that looked slightly rich. More middle class. I heard the scattering of a dog rushing to the door. Barking as I heard it clawing at the door. Then a muffled voice telling the dog, "Marley! Down...Down!" I slightly smirk. Julian opened the door. When his eyes met mine, he smiled too.

"Hey, come in..." He holds the dog's collar as he opens the door wider for me to fit in. I left my crutches in the car because I was already feeling better. I don't need them. His house smelled nice. It was tidy. The front lawn was filled with Halloween decorations since it was fall.