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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/766643-The-Escape
by Baset
Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Tragedy · #766643
A story about what can happen when tempers flare.
The Escape

         These four blank walls have done so much. They have comforted and protected but they have also echoed evil words and confined me inside. These walls have seen and heard so much that their insides must be moldy and rotten from held back tears. Some day these walls will fall.

         A loud crash from upstairs startled nine-year-old Damon. He jerked upright up from his journal and looked around for a moment. The walls were still the same dingy white color; nothing had changed. He had been sitting in his room for an hour now, though it seemed like ten, waiting for some sort of resolution above him. Anything that he could use to convince himself that he could make it outside without starting another episode. He knew that he couldn’t yet so he remained where he was, his amber eyes brimming with energy and his heart in a distant place of dragons and magic.

         “I might as well go back to writing,” he said aloud as if someone would answer back from somewhere.

         As he settled back into his soft cradling pillows, the commotion upstairs continued to grow even louder and louder until even the pictures on the wall seemed to be trembling with fright.

         “I can’t stand this anymore” he admitted quietly to himself. “I have to go now or I'll go insane. I'm so bored; there is nothing to do in here. Not while they’re like this.” Even as he said the words a voice in the back of his head was shouting NO! Don’t Leave! Not Yet! They’ll calm down soon enough. Just stay here, quiet as a mouse and don’t DO anything!! If only he had listened to the voice. If only he had not been so tired, bored, or hungry. If only he had waited five more minutes.

         Upstairs the argument continued to escalate. SMASH!! There goes another vase he thought to himself, mentally adding it to the enormous list of broken items that were no longer to be mentioned. He crept slowly out of his room and towards the front door. Suddenly he heard feet crashing down the stairs accompanied by the tumultuous voice of his parents. Crap! What am I going to do now?!? He was only a foot or two from the door but he instantly froze, his hand in mid-air. His mind raced, where could he hide before they saw him? Too late. He felt his father’s enormous calloused hand land squarely on his shoulder harder than ever before.

         “WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING OUT HERE! YOU WERE EASEDROPPING WEREN'T YOU, YOU NOSY LITTLE BRAT!!” boomed his father.

         “No,” replied Damon meekly. “I was just gonna-”
         “YOU WERE GONNA WHAT?!?”
         “I was-“

         “I AM SO SICK OF YOU FREAKIN’ KIDS MOUTHING OFF EVERY CHANCE YOU GET!” This remark was closely followed by Damon’s father swinging a menacing blow straight at his head. It landed perfectly, just below his left ear, throwing him to the ground. The sound of Damon’s jaw breaking was heard throughout the room. A deathly silence fell between them.


         Damon looked up from where he landed, his eyes overflowing with tears of pain and betrayal. He looked at the being that a moment ago was his father. In his place stood a six-foot-five towering beast heaving with anger and adrenaline. Damon made only one other sound ever again-a feeble broken attempt to scream out as his father barreled towards him. He could feel each strike land upon his head and back as he tried to curl into a protective ball. His skin seared with pain slowly turning from a healthy tan to a shade of red, then purple. What did I do? I don’t understand. The pain was unbearable, his insides felt as though they were on fire and were trying to escape from within. Blood pounded inside his head making it feel twice as big and extremely sensitive. His father continued to pummel him even as his tiny body became limp and slowly stopped twitching.


         At least it is quiet now he thought as he slipped away from life and into the shadows, at least I can get some rest now. Now I can get away. I can finally leave.


© Copyright 2003 Baset (cat_goddess at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/766643-The-Escape