The dark memories

IV

"Your father only wanted us away, he's trying to flirt with my mother," he finally spoke. His voice was sulky and deep. I became a little nervous, he seemed so dangerous. I swallowed some of my spit. I finally stepped back.

"Yeah... that's probably true." I moved to sit on my bed. My gaze met with my carpet. I only saw his shoes as he walked around. I felt slightly embarrassed about my room. It had many bookshelves, and posters on the walls but there were some of my drawings. A few seconds later my bed dipped as he sat closer to the edge.
"You know I don't really like being here," he uttered.

"Me neither." I sighed. "The difference is I live here." A chuckle left his lips. I looked over to him. "Your name is Tommy, right?"

"Yeah, Nancy?" I nodded my head. "So, where's your mom," he asked. I looked away again. I hated those types of questions.

"She's serving time in prison so, you won't be seeing her." Tommy only nods his head. "Where's your dad," I asked. A sigh left his lips.

"My dad ain't here... he's dead." I immediately felt bad. I mentally slapped myself.

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"It's fine... he worked for your dad anyways." I shivered. My father was never the best man and probably never will be. He worked in business, illegal business mostly. Underground fighting wasn't the best job knowing you had a child waiting at home, guess my father never cared. He hired fighters and on occasion, but he also fought. I hadn't known as a child, I found out in fifth grade. My mom had been yelling, curious I wanted to sneak out of bed to listen.

"Oh... he died in a match, I'm guessing."

"Yeah, he did." I looked up from the floor and moved to him. I noticed his hand by mine. My hand lightly grabbed his.

"I'm really sorry," I said again.

"I know," he responded

We went back downstairs as my dad called us about dessert. I sat back in my seat as I felt my father's stare. I just stuck my fork of cake in my mouth. The instant distaste was evident but I swallowed it down.