Chapter 2
New Lives, Same Memories
The old, black pickup truck was being driven a little faster than the speed limit permitted, but it didn't matter, Pierce Anthony Dyer's dad was drunk anyways. His head was slammed again the window gazing at the new area where they would be living from then on.
"At least there will be running water and maybe some electricity if we're lucky," he thought to himself, mentally glaring at his drunkard father.
Their last house had been evicted because Jack Dyer, his father, decided to spend the rent on chewing tobacco, cigarettes, and vodka, his three favorite things in the world. His son eventually became a blur in his past, and led on to fend for himself.
Lucky for his father, Pierce was never a dependable person. His ability to live and survive on his own for practically all his life was extremely developed. Pierce's mother taught him to live on his own while she was out of the house, and after she left he kept living that way.
Beth Dyer was abused by her husband when he became an alcoholic. Jack's rampages became unbearable as she tried to raise her only son through infancy. When Pierce was about twelve years old Beth threw out all of the beer and liquor in the house to upset Jack. She didn't know that he wasn't going to hit her though. Instead when he came home he threatened her with her son's life. Jack threw Pierce to the ground and started to punch and kick him.
Without any other choice, she grabbed an empty beer bottle and smashed it against Jack's head. He passed out on top of the poor boy. Beth packed all of her things, and Pierce's because the abuse on herself and her son was getting to be too much. Though when she was leaving Jack grabbed Pierce and told her that if she didn't leave now and never come back he would kill him.
Without any other choice Beth left, abandoning her only son, leaving him to be abused by the very man she promised herself she would get away from someday. Beth Dyer did, but her son five years later wasn't as lucky.
The car eventually stopped at a dirty, small house in the middle of that street that they happened to be on. Pierce didn't know the name of it, and honestly didn't care, he wasn't the one who got evicted. The car door was pushed open with a force of anger towards his father. All he could get from the move was that Pierce would have to take care of everything again. Only this time he would have to keep better track of the money.
In the back seat was the memoirs that he mother forgot to bring with her five years ago. He packed them in a small box labeled "Pierce's Stuff" so that his father wouldn't dare touch it. The tiny box had a picture of Beth and himself smiling and hugging each other tightly. Pierce forgot what it felt like to be held like that. He grabbed the box, and went to sit on the back porch steps clutching the box to his toned chest.
Pierce's olive toned skin was baking under the ninety degree heat. He put a hand through his hair tiredly.
"This place is going to take some getting used to..." he thought to himself while shaking his head at his father trying to unload boxes.
Lifting his sweaty head up he saw the most petite, beautiful girl staring straight at him from across his backyard. It was as if she was peering through his patched up soul. Then the girl gazed down losing the eye contact with Pierce, and backed up way too fast with her lawnmower. He started to get up because she almost tripped herself. He wished she did, it would have gave him an excuse to walk over to her.
His green eyes couldn't stop gawking at the petite girl. Her ivory skin, and her auburn hair made him melt inside, just like it used to when he felt loved. Everything inside of Pierce wanted to run over there and introduce himself so badly, but he didn't have the manpower. But he needed to meet her, even if he was beaten for it later on.
"Pierce! Help...yer old man unload! I didn't bring you into this world to sit on your ass!" his father slurred noisily.
The boy rolled his eyes and got up from the stairs, placing the box back on the porch.
"Sure dad...you brought me into this world, but it's not like I had a choice to be a part of it anyways..."
He strolled over to the boxes strapped to the back of the pickup truck without glancing at his father. His father wouldn't have noticed anyways since the whiskey had already messed up his ability to see straight. Pierce grabbed a box and went back to the porch steps taking a look at his old man.
Jack Dyer was skinnier than he was a week ago. Pierce guessed that he must have been around 130 pounds and still losing. Spots were forming on his crinkled tan skin that deformed his outlook making him seem diseased. He was stumbling around his car probably about to pass out if Pierce was lucky.
Pierce didn't care anymore, he grabbed his lonesome box and headed up to pick his bedroom knowing his father wouldn't mind. He was usually passed out on the floor, or the couch if he was fortunate enough. Pierce's legs made their way up the rickety stairs searching for the room he would never be in.
He entered a small, cozy room where the gray walls seemed less cold and harsh than the rest of the house. There was no carpet, which didn't surprise him since his father could actually afford the home. Complaining to himself wasn't getting anywhere either, so he set the box in the middle of his newly found room and laid against the wooden floor boards. Pierce stared at the blank ceiling just wishing for random things. A decent life, a decent home, a better father, but most of all his mother. That was all he ever wanted, but he was obviously not as lucky as he wanted to be.
Pierce got up and gazed out his window seeing the girl sitting high in the willow tree. It made him smile to see her swinging herself on a branch for some reason. He stared down farther and saw his father passed out in the back of his pickup truck. Pierce shook his head annoyed at his "role model".
At least he's not on the floor.
He got up from the floor, and decided that he was going over there to meet her. He took one last glance through the window, but the girl was gone leaving her willow tree blowing ironically in the wind.
