THERON (Book I In The Ancients Series) [SAMPLE]

EIGHT.

Daniel Grimes was reclined back in his lazy boy, taking another sip of his now empty beer. He scowled at the brown bottle, quite inconvenienced that it was, in fact, not bottomless. Disgusted by such an inconceivable offense, he tossed it on the floor with the rest of the empty beer bottles that were scattered about. "ALEX! BEER!" He demanded.

Ten year old Alex Grimes sighed, rolling his green eyes. He closed the book he was reading and quickly jumped off his bed.

He ran into the kitchen knowing his father was in another one of his moods, which would swiftly lead to another beating if Alex didn't comply with his requests fast enough. Swiping one of the many beers from the otherwise empty refrigerator, he flipped the lid off with the bottle opener. Alex allowed it to fall into the small pile of bottle caps that accumulated on the countertop beside the appliance. His eyes did a quick scan of the pile, estimating this particular bottle to be number twelve in the last hour and a half. He frowned, his father had been drinking quite a bit more than normal in the last five days or so and it made him anxious. It did not bode well for Alex. The man he called 'father' had never been known as a happy drunk.

Alex took a second to close his eyes and compose himself. If he did exactly what his father required of him, he would be spared the fury of his fists—Alex was certain of it. Taking in a large amount of air to fill his lungs and calm his nerves, he followed the sound of college football from the television. His bare feet kicked a couple of bottles strewn across the floor as he entered the living room.

He silently cursed his father.

They didn't have enough money for food but somehow that man always found enough cash somewhere to keep a never ending stock of his addicting liquid diet.

Daniel snatched the bottle from his son. He greedily gulped down half the bitter nectar before turning his attention to Alex.

Deadened green eyes assessed the puny kid. Swallowing a mouthful of beer, he lifted his top lip in disgust, "You're weak. You will never be a threat to anyone if you don't get your head out of those damn books, boy." Alex silently nodded in response. It was the same nightly declaration and he had learned very quickly not to argue or defend his favorite pastime. His father would never understand Alex's desire for knowledge—it was just beyond such a brute.

Daniel snickered, "You disgust me. Now that I'm looking at you, I'm surer than ever that you aren't really mine," he took another swig of his beer, eyes narrowed in loathing, "Just another secret your whore of a mother was keeping from me."

With clenched jaws and a thumping pain inside his head, Alex took his father's verbal abuse. He hated how his dad spoke of his mother and he hated more that the spiteful words spewing from his mouth were true. A drug addict who only loved the thought of her next fix, Alex couldn't argue. She had never been a doting or kind woman. Honestly, Alex didn't know who she even was. At the age where he could recall their interactions, she had either been comatose or damn near it—slurring her words, unable to keep her eyes open, and rarely leaving the couch, even to relieve herself. Nine months ago was the last straw as she had injected more than normal into her weak, blown out veins.

She never returned from that trip.

So, here he was, an abusive drunkard for a father and a dead junkie for a mother. The only solace he found was in books where he could momentarily forget his burdens. He had brief glimpses into other worlds and lives, far away from the one he was currently fated to. However, even now, his father was attempting to take that away from him as well. He assumed it would not be long before all the pages were rounded up and lit aflame in the backyard. If his father could find a small space somewhere amongst all the trash that covered the dying grass.