F.O.D., chapter 3

So where's the other face?
The face I heard before
Your head trip's boring me

I woke up to a loud thump on the floor just outside my closet door.

"You unworthy bitch. Ya drank the rest a my rummm," slurred George.

"I didn't, I swear!" cried my mom.

"Well then why's it missing?"

There was another loud thump and I could tell George had hit her again.

"Okay! I had one sip but that's only because that was the only thing left!" cried my panicked mom.

There was a grunt and then a loud scream as I heard George dragging my mom into their room by her long greasy hair. She tried to stop herself by grabbing onto the chair that was leaned up against the closet door knocking it over.

I was free. I didn't hesitate; I grabbed my guitar and ran out of the apartment leaving behind the shrill screams and pounding. I walked down the street a bit until I got to a busy corner where I sat down and began to play guitar and sing along. I put my hat on the curb in hope for money.

After a few hours of some luck I decided to treat myself to lunch. I walked into the nearby seven eleven and grabbed a sandwich and walked up to the cash register to pay. Usually I would've just run for it but I knew I had to stay on the down low or else the police would have to make more "permanent arrangements" whatever that meant. Once I was at the front of line I placed down all the coins from my hat on the counter.

"This is only $1.30 you need $4.50," sneered the cashier.

"But this is all I've got," I tried to negotiate.

"$4.50 or nothing scum."

I glared at the cashier for a few seconds and then realized who he was. He was the guy who owed me money the other night when I got caught. I picked up my coins and stuffed them back into my pocket.

"Didn't think you'd have it Armstrong, you have nothing."

I turned around and punched him square in the face. I grabbed the sandwich and ran out of the store. I ran until I was at least 10 blocks down. I roughly unwrapped the sandwich and stuffed it in my mouth; I was starving.

Finishing my food I stumbled upon the park and walked in its gates. I sat down on the nearest swing placing my guitar on the ground beside it. I looked around watching the kids playing in the sandbox. They were making some sort of castle with sticks and wet sand. I saw their proud parents watching over them on the nearby bench. The nicest thing my mom had ever said to me was that I smelled good after spraying stolen axe spray on myself.

I looked down at the pond and saw Nally Walker. Fuck. Suddenly I could feel the sandwich coming back up and I broke out in a cold sweat. I've been waiting to ask her out forever but last time I even got close to her her 6' boyfriend beat me up. I couldn't help but watch her silky brown hair flowing in the soft breeze as her fine figure walked along the perimeter of the pond. Aw fuck she was walking towards me. I tried to look away but my eyes were glued to her. As she walked closer I could see her soft brown eyes shining in the sunlight and I noticed she was crying.

She silently walked up and sat down on the swing next to me. I forced myself to look away trying to respect her privacy. I pretended to be interested in something on my shoe. I could hear her soft sobs coming from beside me. I summoned up my courage and casually looked over at her and blurted out the first thing on my mind.

"Anything wrong?" I asked. Why am I so stupid of course something's wrong why else would she be crying!?

She just looked at me silently and nodded and then looked back down at the ground.

"Is there anything I can do?" I asked trying to not pry too much but this was my chance.

She just looked up and stared at me for a few long seconds and then looked back down. Feeling disappointed and angry with myself for being such a fool I got up and went to pick up my guitar.

"No wait...there's something you can do. I'm sorry," she patted the swing beside her that I had just been sitting in. I went and sat back down and looked at her hopefully.

"What is it?"

"I just need someone to talk to...that is...if you don't mind."

I wasn't much for talking to people about feelings but I felt it was the best thing to do and I had nothing else to do.

"No sure...what do you want to talk about?"

"Oh...it's just Mark...Ummm...well maybe it's nothing...I don't really feel like talking about it actually..."

"Oh...Ummm...okay then...tell me if you change your mind," I got up again and started walking away. I heard her sobs become more intense and I turned back around and sat beside her once again.

"Well I suppose I could tell you...it's not like you could make any big deal of it anyway..."

I wasn't sure if I was to take this as a compliment or not.

"It's just that...I broke up with Mark and well...I don't know if it was the right thing...he kept taking steroids so he could get built up for football season and I kept trying to stop him...last night he was I suppose...drunk...and he got mad and hit me...I told him our relationship was over and walked home...and well I don't know if it was the right thing to do...I don't love him...but then again I can't stop thinking about it..." she looked at me hopefully.

How could I have been so stupid to not know this was about her fucking boyfriend?

"Umm well I guess if you don't love him—"

"Oh but I do...I mean I felt safe around him..." Nally interrupted.

I stared long and hard into her eyes. She didn't say it but I could tell that she was scared that he would find her and hurt her.

"Can I ask you something personal?" I asked.

"Ummm...I guess..."
"Is Mark abusive?"

"What the hell!? Fuck no...only laid a hand on me a few times...only if he was drunk."

I raised my eyebrow and looked at her questioning.

"What the hell is wrong with you!? I told you I don't want to talk about it!" she yelled at me and turned away.

She was crying even harder now. Not wanting to make situations worse I got up and grabbed my guitar. I walked out the park gates and walked down the street. I hadn't realized how dark it had already gotten.

I could see through a window of a small bungalow house two parents tucking their kid in bed. I wondered how it must feel to have a bed, a home, and most of all at least one caring parent.

I walked farther down the street kicking stones in front of me. After walking for what I figured an hour I decided it was about time to go home.

As I turned the last corner I saw a black BMW convertible in the driveway in front of our apartment block. I walked over it running my hand over its sleek exterior. I heard yelling from above to see it was coming from my apartment room only this time it wasn't the slurred growls from George or screaming from my mom; it was a voice I had never heard before. More curious than frightened I ran up the stairs and opened the door to our apartment and slid in. There was a short skinny man with black hair wearing a black leather jacket, black pants and studded belt standing yelling at my mom. He didn't look much older than 30.

George was in the corner cowering on the couch. He looked more stunned than anything actually.

"I've been sending you all these fucking relief checks and this is the best you can do!?"

"Well $500 000 a year is simply not enough," said my mom looking more confident than I have ever seen her.

"What the fuck!? That's half a million dollars a year! Yeah that's more than you can fucking count buddy," he said glaring at George who started to speak but then realized he'd be better off if he said nothing. "You took my fucking kid and now you're sucking my fucking money out of me for whatever shit you spend it on and he doesn't even have his own room!"

What. Did he say what he really did? Was this my real dad? My mom said that he had run off when he found out she was pregnant and got himself killed. I just stood there in total shock trying to choke out the words I was still searching for. I looked at my mom's face. She had the same look on her face as a 5 year old who just been caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

"Don't believe that man Phillip. Go to your room George will deal with you once we get rid of this trespasser," my mom stammered.

I just stood there still in shock. I tried to move my legs but they wouldn't budge.

"You heard her boy. G-go to bed. I don't wanna see you no more today!" George had finally summed up the courage to give me this order. Knowing that I'd be in for it if I didn't listen I quickly obeyed and walked into the closet closing the door behind me. I sat curled and quietly listened close to every word.

"You stuck him in a fucking closet!?" I heard the strange man say. "Oh you just wait until the social worker finds out about this!"

"Oh we ain't getting no social worker in this. You'd listen if you know what's best for you," yelled George.

"Well I may not know what's best for me but I have a hell lot better idea of how to raise a fucking kid than you!" I could hear the man's voice getting louder and more intense.

"Billie please!" begged my mom.

"You'da better get your skinny little ass outa here before I call the ccops on ya!" hollard George back at him.

"Fine. It's late anyway. But I'm going to say goodnight to MY son first."

Suddenly there was a bright light and I looked up into the stranger's face. It had a sad, concerned look on it; just like the one I've seen on the parents faces at the park when their kid falls off the monkey bars and hurts themselves. I had a strange feeling come over me...never once has this happened before. The stranger crouched down to me until we were face to face.

"Night buddy. I know this must be confusing for you but I just want you to know that I am your real father. My name's Billie Joe Armstrong and don't worry okay. I'll be back soon to save you from this shit hole."

He patted me on the shoulder as he stood up. All I could do was look up into his face and nod. George slammed the door closed once again and I was in almost complete darkness again.

"I'll be back until I get my son," Billie said as the front door slammed shut. I sat there quietly and I could hear the sound of a car door open and then slam close. It sped away and that was last sound I heard before I fell asleep.