Drown in You

11. Memories//Forget it

The boy searched for a place to hide, desperate to escape what he knew was coming. He stood frozen, overcome with panic. The door flew open and a hand closed around his neck, pushing him to the floor. He cried and struggled to escape his hold, hands outstretched to try and push the man away. Belt in hand, the man kicked him onto his side and held him to the floor, boot pressed against his neck. The boy cried out in pain, still struggling desperately.

The belt came down over and over on his back, stinging more and more with each hit. The boy cried and screamed until his throat felt soar and scratched. The beating continued endlessly. Eventually, he stopped struggling, finding it easier to simply let the blows come. He thought about the flower fields he'd visited at school that day, hoping if he imagined hard enough, he would really be there. The pain began to feel distant, and the world seemed to fade in and out.

After what felt like an eternity, the man's breathing grew heavy and the blows from the belt began to slow, finally stopping altogether. Slowly, cautiously, the boy dared to turn his head to peek at the man looming over him. The man threw the belt to the floor and reached down towards the boy, who frantically averted his eyes and threw his arms over his head in an attempt to protect his face. He grabbed the boy by the front of his shirt, pulling his limp body up to his scowling face.

"I am NOT your father," he growled, the smell of alcohol potent on his breath. "Got it?"

The boy didn't reply, still only half conscious. The man shook him hard and slapped him hard across the face until he nodded timidly in response.

"Good." The man let go of the boy's shirt as he spoke, and he fell into a heap on the ground. The door slammed shut, the storm past. The boy groaned but did not move, instead retreating further into the small, warm place inside his mind.

I woke up on the floor, drenched in sweat, blankets in a twisted mess around my body. It took a moment for me to realize it had been a dream, and another moment still to calm my breathing. Memories like that were still raw in my mind, even though I knew it had been years since that time in my life.

I took a deep, shaky breath, pulled myself up off the floor, and stumbled down the hall to the bathroom. I turned on the faucet and splashed the cool water over my face. It stung as it hit my face. I looked at myself in the mirror: there was a massive purple bruise that covered both my eye and my cheek, and a small red gash across my lip. My eyes were red, and my pale skin almost yellow in the dim light. To sum it up, I looked like shit. I sighed and grabbed a towel to dry my face, wincing in pain as it made contact with the wounds.

It had really been a long time since I'd been beaten up like this. Between the fight and Bill's outburst, I wasn't shocked at all that some uncomfortable memories were resurfacing. I returned to my room and took a dose of sleeping medicine before climbing back into bed, where I tossed and turned restlessly, trying to keep my mind in the present, before the medicine finally kicked in and I passed out.

•••

When my alarm went off in the morning, I felt like death. I reached under the bed for a morning cig, but the crumpled up box reminded me that I had none left. I let out a bitter laugh. Everything that had happened last night was all because of some cigarettes, and I hadn't even managed to buy any more. It would almost be funny if my face didn't hurt so much. I groaned and pulled myself out of bed.

"Good morning honey." Carol said to me when I entered the kitchen. I looked up in surprise. I hadn't expected her to be downstairs. She didn't seem mad, but she also didn't seem quite as warm as usual. Or maybe I was just imagining it.

"Good morning," I replied awkwardly. "Um, I'm sorry about last night."

"Thank you for apologizing," she said. I nodded in response and started to pour out some cereal. When Eliot came down, I said hi to him too. Bill was nowhere to be seen.