Escape

His father threw the bottle. It shattered against the wall. Liam recoiled.

It wasn't the sound of breaking glass that caused the boy to flinch. It was the look of rage on his father's reddened face and what he knew must come next. It was inevitable.

His father grabbed him hard by his auburn hair and shoved him onto the floor, into the glass remnants of the whiskey bottle.

"Clean it up, boy!"

Then he was gone, his hard, uneven footsteps fading down the hall.

Liam stared with burning eyes at the glass fragments. He braced himself against the wall, half-squatting over the glass to avoid getting cut.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, grabbed a magazine off the coffee table and squatted back down to lay it open on the floor.

When he finished picking up the glass, he carefully lifted the magazine, and then proceeded to the kitchen.

He paused, however, at the living room window, staring at his father's white truck, sitting in the dirt driveway.

He always keeps the key under the seat. Steal his truck and get away.

Liam dropped the magazine and hurried to the front door, yanking it open.

He burst into the afternoon sun, his heart racing, and came to a crashing halt against the driver's side door of the truck.

He yanked the door open, climbed into the seat and reached under it, feeling around for the key.

His heart stopped cold.

The key was gone.

Liam clenched his teeth to keep from screaming in anger and despair. He banged his fists against the steering wheel.

He heard the steps in the dirt and when Liam looked up, his father was standing at the door, the truck key dangling from his finger.

"Looking for this?"

“I hate you.”