Wicked Times, chapter 1
After my older brother, Jamie died my home turned into utter chaos. Everything came unraveled, no one could put it back together, no matter how hard they tried.
I'd come home from a seven hour day of craziness at school. I'd be tired, worn out, yet every single day I'd see mother crawled up in a ball, shaking, crying that she wanted her baby back. She had forgotten about my dad and me. She lost her job because she wouldn't accept (like everyone else) that her 'little' 'baby' son was dead.
My dad was just as worse. My mother's actions drove him insane. He was under stress, that everyone, including me could see. He often went out at night and got drunk.
Early in the mornings I could hear him come in with a major headache. He usually missed work, too, because of it.
I hated my life after Jamie died. My new life was like a sappy 'Lifetime' movie that had gone sanely wrong. I hated that my mother couldn't be brave and that my dad couldn't support our family. We were poor. The funeral cost so much. I heard that the bank was going to take away our home.
I was so mad! How could my parents act like they were the only ones left? I grieved too, but they were to blinded by their own pain to see that. My mom had her depression, my dad had his booze, and I had my drums, music.
Everyday I'd go to my room and pound on my drums to let my anger-sadness out.
That night, I thought the only way to get out of this chaos, was to run away.
I poured out the items that I had had in my book bag for school. I stuffed it full with CD's, my CD player, batteries, clothes, and the drumsticks I used to play with the very first time I attempted to play drums. I wrapped my drumsticks in paper so I won't get them dirty or wet. I snuck into the kitchen and pulled out a little over fifty dollars, from my dad's alcohol savings (that was suppose to be hidden).
About ten minutes later I was at the bus stop in the pouring rain. I was cold, yet proud. I wasn't a part of the craziness anymore. I was free. I heard the bus coming up the small hill. I got ready to get on. The bus driver was old and bitter looking. I paid my fee and picked an old seat to sit quietly in. For a while I watched the rain pour onto the streets. After a bit it got very old, so I dug through my book bag and found my CD player. I opened it up and placed the red skulled CD called "Let it Enfold You" by Senses Fail in. I pushed play.
***
The bus stopped in Berkeley, California. (A very 'nice' neighborhood). I got out and decided to walk the rest of the way to find a place to stay. I walked on the side walk, while looking at the big, beautiful houses. I stopped and stared at one house. In the yard I saw a boy with dark brown hair, he was maybe ten years old, he was running around crazily. The other boy was about thirteen or twelve years of age.
The oldest boy was sitting on the front steps of the house with maybe his mom. His mom had long, black, straight hair with dreads and some random blond streaks. She was holding a little baby. I stood there, looking at the house and the people. I quietly gawked at what I couldn't have, a real family.
I'd come home from a seven hour day of craziness at school. I'd be tired, worn out, yet every single day I'd see mother crawled up in a ball, shaking, crying that she wanted her baby back. She had forgotten about my dad and me. She lost her job because she wouldn't accept (like everyone else) that her 'little' 'baby' son was dead.
My dad was just as worse. My mother's actions drove him insane. He was under stress, that everyone, including me could see. He often went out at night and got drunk.
Early in the mornings I could hear him come in with a major headache. He usually missed work, too, because of it.
I hated my life after Jamie died. My new life was like a sappy 'Lifetime' movie that had gone sanely wrong. I hated that my mother couldn't be brave and that my dad couldn't support our family. We were poor. The funeral cost so much. I heard that the bank was going to take away our home.
I was so mad! How could my parents act like they were the only ones left? I grieved too, but they were to blinded by their own pain to see that. My mom had her depression, my dad had his booze, and I had my drums, music.
Everyday I'd go to my room and pound on my drums to let my anger-sadness out.
That night, I thought the only way to get out of this chaos, was to run away.
I poured out the items that I had had in my book bag for school. I stuffed it full with CD's, my CD player, batteries, clothes, and the drumsticks I used to play with the very first time I attempted to play drums. I wrapped my drumsticks in paper so I won't get them dirty or wet. I snuck into the kitchen and pulled out a little over fifty dollars, from my dad's alcohol savings (that was suppose to be hidden).
About ten minutes later I was at the bus stop in the pouring rain. I was cold, yet proud. I wasn't a part of the craziness anymore. I was free. I heard the bus coming up the small hill. I got ready to get on. The bus driver was old and bitter looking. I paid my fee and picked an old seat to sit quietly in. For a while I watched the rain pour onto the streets. After a bit it got very old, so I dug through my book bag and found my CD player. I opened it up and placed the red skulled CD called "Let it Enfold You" by Senses Fail in. I pushed play.
***
The bus stopped in Berkeley, California. (A very 'nice' neighborhood). I got out and decided to walk the rest of the way to find a place to stay. I walked on the side walk, while looking at the big, beautiful houses. I stopped and stared at one house. In the yard I saw a boy with dark brown hair, he was maybe ten years old, he was running around crazily. The other boy was about thirteen or twelve years of age.
The oldest boy was sitting on the front steps of the house with maybe his mom. His mom had long, black, straight hair with dreads and some random blond streaks. She was holding a little baby. I stood there, looking at the house and the people. I quietly gawked at what I couldn't have, a real family.
Page 1/24 | Next
