Blackout

An exhilarating rush of adrenaline shuddered through my body as I brushed away the warm blood oozing from my upper lip. The astonishing force of his crowbar sent my vision blurry with stars, making the tempting urge to cower in the corner and beg for mercy harder to resist. "You wanna repeat that kid?" my dad threatened with that trademark accent of his.

All 14 years of my life flashed through me in a spiralling haze; I was so petrified that the agony of my wounds had long been forgotten. But was I going to show fear? Not today. "I said that I'm turning you into the police." His face twisted into a menacing smile, revealing creases under those striking blue eyes that most women adored. Towering over me, he abruptly reached for the collar of my school shirt and threw me violently into the front door like I was a weightless object. I silently cursed myself for letting my guard down however made a swift recovery, getting a quick wack into his gut before his crowbar suddenly slammed into my face. I shuddered in pure terror as the most deafening crack pierced the room; the disgusting rip gave me the urge to hurl. I can't think, I can't breathe. All I can concentrate on is the red blood gushing out of my nose and flooding my mouth with a revolting salty-taste. What was I thinking! I must have been seriously deluded to think I could actually succeed in beating up my dad! By instinct, my shaking hands shot up to my face as if covering the source of pain would protect the crooked miss-shaped mess I once called my nose. He emerged over my crippled body, making me feel small and hopeless under his titanic shadow. My world spun hysterically as all of his silhouettes revealed their rotting teeth in that sly smile that I knew so well, before my world faded to black.

(Father's point of view)

I blinked away thwarting tears in disbelief as my son's blood dribbled silently from the crowbar and onto my new leather shoes. The rage that had completely consumed me moments earlier was now draining at a speed which left me bewildered. What have I done? Jake was sprawled over the carpet, re-surfacing an old memory of when I'd come home late at night and nearly trip over his resting body. However the repulsive pool of blood gathering around his mouth suddenly slashed my daydream back into reality. I feel completely paralysed, I can't move. My eyes were completely fixated on a blood clot slightly above his rose coloured lips.

The whole room compressed around me as my knees buckled and my back slid against the wall. How did it get to this point? I was so blinded by rage that the fight is just a blur etched into the back of my mind. I let alcohol push me over the edge. With my head falling helplessly into my hands, an excruciating ache collected around my heart. I'm a disgrace of a father; In trying to distract myself  I've completely abandoned my boy. It's no coincidence that Jake has run-ins with the police; no wonder Jen left me.

A daring peek at Jake sent a cold tingle down my spine; it's obvious his little nose is broken. Oh my god he might be dead! My hands were shaking so hard that I felt like a fumbling mess, desperately feeling the surface of his wet wrist for a pulse. My stomach twisted with anxiety, his blood left a disturbing residue on my hands that felt sticky like honey. A lump formed like a rock in my throat as my back caved in and my neck cramped up, releasing an immense sob that has been bottled up for years. There is no pulse. A dark place in my mind taunted me with an image of a broken man, rocking backwards and forwards in the dirty cell he's forced to call a home. Since that's what I am; a murderer.