BANG
BANG
BANG
"Open the door right now Billy!" my father screamed through my locked bedroom door. This was a daily occurrence so dealing with it now being six-teen didn't bother me much. I've dealt with him yelling at me since I was ten years old. Although it did seem to gradually get worse over the years and mom only started to ignore it more and more.
"You better open this door this instant!" he yelled again so loud the door didn't muffle his voice at all. I just walked to my record player and put the pin down on my copy of the "Scary Monsters (and Super Creeps)" LP by David Bowie.
"Don't you play that trashy music in my house, you're going to listen to me dammit!" my dad continued to yell. I just turned it up and tuned him out the best I could as I flipped open my sketch book. I grabbed a pencil and began to draw away, I never liked to get cocky or boast but my drawing was pretty excellent. I was always the top student in my art class as the first to be done and the most creative. I never knew where my ideas came from it was like they just popped into my head or were sent to me from another dimension. As I finished up my drawing I fell in love, it was perfect. It was just how I imagined it and something I've always wanted - a best friend. I was never "cool" and definitely never "popular" in school. I was bullied a lot and I guess I was always the "weird" kid and the "outcast" but mom always said it was good to stand out. That it was better than being basic, that it was the way to be remembered and not to be forgotten after highschool years. I always listened and nodded when she told me these things but I never actually agreed with what she had to say. I knew the truth, I knew I was a loser with no friends, I was a weirdo and an outcast and that's just how it was.
BANG
My door was kicked in off the hinges and the music came to a complete silence as my father threw my record player across the room.
"How do you like me now you little shit?" he said to me - even standing five feet away I could smell the whiskey on his breath.
"You sit in here all day with your music and your crappy drawings wh-"
"They're not crappy, I'm the best in my art class. If you ever paid attention to me or my report card you'd know that!" I yelled back at him and then bit my tongue before I said anymore. His eyes widened and his neck veins started to pop out.
"Don't you ever speak back to me and especially never raise your voice at me. I'll be right back with my belt to teach you a lesson, you better not move a muscle punk" he threatened me. As soon as he left the room I opened my window and hopped out - thank God I had chosen the bedroom on the first floor. I remember being six years old and being sad we were moving but my parents told me I could pick any room to make me happy. It worked but that was when this was a happy household. Now it was my mother always locked away in her knitting room and my father drinking then taking his misery out on me. Barefoot I ran to my bike left out front and hopped on, I had no idea where I was going but it didn't matter. As long as it was as far away from that beating as I could get it didn't matter if I was homeless. I actually enjoyed going to school because I was somewhat nerdy but mostly because I got to get out of the house. Dad went to work but that house just kept an unhappy, depressing vibe to it that I can barely stomach. Mom barely even speaks to me anymore, it's as if she's a stranger to me. I don't know what happened, we went from being happy to all being miserable. It was as if a butterfly effect took place and the world flipped upside down. This was a small town, the most there was to do here was go to the movie theatre, the arcade, Mr. Wallington's Candy Shop, the library or Louis' Pizzeria. Being ten at night none of that was even open so I was really lost as to where I was heading. I eventually ended up at Hillcrest Cemetery and decided to stay there. I wasn't like every other kid who would be terrified of a cemetery at night, like I said I was a weirdo. I was actually very curious about death and was always asking myself questions and trying to understand it. Doing all sorts of research at the library that only had about two-hundred books. Half of them were about history, thirty percent were actual stories, and the other twenty percent was about death. Lightning struck in the dark sky lighting it up with a bright blue followed by thunder and it began to rain.
"Of course, it just had to rain. What was a trip to the cemetery at night without a thunderstorm?" I thought. As I walked the paths between the Graves with my bike I started to think about who all the people were. What they did as jobs, what they looked like, the laughs they had, the reasons they cried, if they fell in love, if they had children, and of course how they died. Right in the middle of the cemetery there was this big beautiful willow tree, willow trees were my favourite type of tree. I decided to go underneath it and try to seek some shelter from the rain. I headed towards as more lightning struck down, then realized it wasn't the best idea to go under a tree in a storm. At this point though I didn't care and decided to take my chances with it. Lighting struck again but this time I seen something - it was the outline of somebody. It startled me but I still continued towards the tree and the shadow. I got closer and closer before the shadow disappeared. I did a full circle around the tree and seen nothing.
"Must've been my imagination" I whispered to myself kind of laughing. Then again, lighting struck and the shadow appeared - only it wasn't a shadow. It was a person, more specifically it was a girl. I'm embarrassed to admit I screamed in fear before I caught myself and covered my mouth. She looked my age, her hair was orange, and she wore a pink dress. I searched for words but I couldn't find them and when I did they just wouldn't come out of my mouth. She approached me and as she got closer the moon came down on her face. I seen her eyes were a beautiful brown like milk chocolate and her cheeks were covered in freckles.
"Who are you, why are you here?" she asked me.
"...I-I'm here because I ran away from home."
"And your name?"
"Billy...My name is Billy" I answered and then a few awkward seconds passed that felt like five minutes.
"Why did you runaway from home Billy?"
"Because my father is an asshole" I said - she giggled a bit then quickly responded
"mine too."
"Oh yeah, why? I mean if you don't mind me asking" I said. She started to look insecure and rub her arm, looking around.
"It's okay, you don't have to tell me why. My dad drinks a lot....like a lot, a lot. Pretty much anytime he's not at work he's drinking, then he takes out his anger on me. He hits me sometimes and my mother doesn't say anything, to be honest I think she's too scared to. I guess I'd rather him hit me than her though....I usually hide away in my room from him listening to music or drawing, sometimes both" I said. A few more awkward seconds went by and she didn't say anything.
"I'm stupid, I shouldn't of told you that I-"
"No, you're not stupid....My father hits me too, but he doesn't drink. He does it when he's sober and I wish I still had my mother. She committed suicide when I was seven...I think he blames me for it or something" she told me. My situation didn't even seem as bad now -
"I'm sorry you had to go through that, that's just horrible. I want you to know that it's not your fault either and your old man is a piece of shit for blaming it on you" I said. She began to cry and hugged me whispering in my ear "thank you."
"A-anytime" I said before she asked
"What time is it?"
"I don't know like eleven-thirty, why?"
"Crap I have to go" she said hurrying to leave.
"Hold on can I have your number or something so I can call sometime" I asked as I looked down and reached in my pocket for a pen. By the time I looked back up though she was gone. "Dammit....Can I have your number, what was I thinking?" I said to myself as I smacked my hand to my head. The rain started to come down worse and I decided to ride back home. Leaving with no food and no where to go wasn't the best idea after all.
"Hopefully that drunk bastard passed out by now and forgot about me" I thought. I rode home, threw my bike on the ground and went to my bedroom window. I scoped it out first, all the lights were out and the coast seemed clear. Hopping in I did my best to stay quiet and put my record player back. Then I took a seat at my drawing table and began to draw the mystery girl from the cemetery. I drew for about half an hour before I was done and then finally changed from my damp clothes into pajamas. That night I even dreamt about her - dreamt about meeting her and this time when she left I chased after her. The rain stopped and it became day as we ran through the woods laughing while the sun shined. Then it started to rain again and we came up on a road. She looked at me still smiling when we heard a loud noise, I turned around to see a crashed vehicle wrapped around a tree. She tugged on me to look back at her and she screamed
"we have to help, we have to help them!" as she ran towards the car.
"Wait!" I said chasing after her again but I couldn't move, I was only getting further away from them as she yelled
"Help Billy, help!"
I woke up, sitting up fast dripping in sweat as if I just ran a mile. I didn't know what that dream was about, but I knew that I had to see that girl again.