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Rated: E · Other · Biographical · #1580438
A bit of what I've been writing; Jake is me at 11, and as a male.
Jake felt strongly that something wasn't right the minute he saw his mother's car in the driveway. Stepping off the bus and waving absently at no one, a feeling of anxiety washed over his mind of 11 years. He usually came home alone, the 4-bedroom brick fortress all to himself, unless his dad found a reason to get there before him. Jake's mood darkened as he noticed his car was there, too.
"Uh, hello?" He slowly pushed the door open, wandering about 'till he heard sniffling from the den.
Sitting up, Patricia quickly wiped her eyes and put on her patented fake smile, trying to keep her hopelessness from her son, though he saw right through her.
"Hey, honey, how was school today?"
Seeing his mother's make-up streaked cheeks and the thousands of papers spread in messy piles around her, Jake sighed and looked at her with a mixture of pity and exasperation.
"What's wrong, mom?"
Before Patricia could find her words, her husband spoke instead.
“It's not your business, Jacob." Jake's expression hardened, turning around to the warning directly behind him, making sure he acknowledged his father's command before ignoring it. "Mom?"
"Stop it, Gerald..." Patricia weakly responded to her little boy's grunt as he was shoved to the floor in front of her.
"He started it. And that didn't hurt." Grabbing him by the arm, the heavyset man yanked him up and flung him toward the stairs. "Go do your homework, and don't tell me you don't know how. Use your brain," knocking him hard on the head with his knuckles.
Jake gave his mother one last glance, trying to discern any information from her; his eyes welled up and he fled as to not to seem weak. Plugging in the comfort of Final Fantasy, he wrapped himself in his own world once again, safe in the knowledge that he could be someone else for a while. He wondered how long it would occupy his attentions this time.
Something was smashed downstairs, maybe a plate, or a bottle of alcohol. Jake watched out the window, waiting impatiently;half an hour later, his father stormed out, stumbling in a drunken stupor towards his car. As soon as the car was out of sight, he jumped up and slid down the stairs, leaving his characters to slowly die.
© Copyright 2009 Alison Ritchie (kontrabass14 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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