Bloody Knuckles • Gallavich

12 Year Olds Suck at Video Games

Mickey woke up the next day around noon. It was Saturday afternoon and for some odd reason the house was kind of quiet. Normally Mickey would wake up to the sounds of his brothers arguing or Terry stumbling around drunkenly. But today it was quiet other than the sound of the wind causing the older house to creak.

Mickey groaned and sat up in his bed, rubbing his eyes. He pulled on a pair of his sweatpants before shuffling out of his bedroom. He squinted a bit as the light from outside poured in. Terry was passed out on the couch so Mickey tiptoed past him, not wanting to wake him. He took one more glance back at him before opening the fridge and taking one of the beers. He cracked it open and tossed the cap towards the trash can, leaving it on the floor as it missed. Mickey took a long sip and started to walk back to his room when Terry grabbed him roughly by the wrist. Mickey choked a bit on the beer and looked down at him, eyes wide. He thought Terry had been passed out sleeping this whole time.

"Colin said you fucking took my last pack of cigarettes?" He grumbled. The man sat up on the couch and rubbed his eyes, staring at his son.

"The fuck? No way! That was him!" He lied. Mickey would have never of taken them if he knew they were Terry's final pack. But Mickey had ran out of his own cigarettes and the pack was just sitting on the kitchen counter, way too tempting to pass up. Terry moved so quickly, that Mickey didn't even have time to react. He got off of the couch and slammed Mickey up against the wall, causing him to drop the beer on the ground.

"Don't fucking lie to me, boy. You'll just make this worse on yourself," Terry said as he grabbed Mickey by the throat.

He shook his head quickly and grabbed at Terry's hands. "I didn't touch them! I've been trying to quit!" Before he knew it, Terry's hand came down onto the side of his face. "Fuck..." Mickey groaned.

"Save that bullshit for someone else. You fucking tell me the goddamn truth Mickey or I swear to god. You won't be able to walk for a week after I'm done with you."

It was the smarter option to just admit to his crime and take the punishment, knowing it would be easier than if he didn't confess. But Mickey's pride was getting in the way. He didn't want to admit that he had screwed up and he definitely didn't want his dad knowing that he was right. It would go straight to the man's head. "Like I said... I didn't touch your fucking cigarettes," he said in a harsh tone.

The beating didn't last long, compared to most beatings Terry gave him. The last hit he remembered was one that knocked him off his feet. Terry's fist had collided with his jaw and Mickey lost his balance in the spilled alcohol, falling onto his ass. His head felt heavy, almost too heavy to even hold up.

"Holy shit." He reached his hand up and touched the side of his head. It was sticky and warm, the red liquid staining his fingertips. Mickey held onto the table in front of him as he forced himself back up to his feet. He then stumbled to his bedroom and in spite of Terry, pulled out the stolen cigarette pack. He placed one between his lip and flopped down on the bed. He cupped his cigarette and lights it. It was official, Mickey was going to kill Colin.

_________________________

"Mandy, I'm telling you, you can do so much better than that asshole!" Ian said, his gloved hand holding Mandy's. Mandy rolled his eyes.

"Ian, c'mon he's hot, and he's... he's not the worse," she said shrugging. Mandy had been hanging out with Ian since nine that morning and the main topic of their conversations was Mandy's current boy toy. His name was Bennet and to Ian, he was a douchebag. He never hung out with Mandy unless he wanted to fuck and they never went on real dates. He was just using her and he knew Mandy knew it too. Ian didn't understand why she wouldn't just dump his ass.