Baked catfish stuffed with lemon and herbs was brought out on a platter,
The whole family was so eager to sink their teeth into this delicious fish,
Spitfire sat at his vanity stand,
gazing at the mirror reflecting his black tears running down his cheeks,
he sniffled,
His heart Skipped a beat as he tried to catch his wind and keep his breathing calm, " it's ok, Spitfire... Don't listen to your dad... Don't let him get to you," he says to himself with a nod,
Spitfire did nothing the following hour but watched the minutes tick by, Surprisingly, eight hours flashed before his dark brown eyes,
he was caught off guard, standing at the window in his room when his door crashed open, the doorknob busted a hole in the side of the wall when he turned around frightened,
A sharp smack was planted across his face before Adam doubled up his fist and struck again,
Spitfire grabbed his reddened cheek in pain,
Adam threw a left this time,
knocking Spitfire off balance,
" STOP IT, DAD!" Spitfire screamed, leaning against the wall
he stumbled about by the force of the hit,
Adam tightens his jaw, throwing a right,
slamming Spitfires head against the wall,
A trickle of blood dripped down Spitfires lips as he grabbed it,
he was never one to fight back or lift a hand to try to defend himself, especially from his Father,
"You are going to pay for humiliating me this evening," Adam shrieks, grabbing Spitfires black hair in a fist hold,
Spitfire grabbed Adam's hands,
trying to pry his fingers from his head and hair,
" Like hell I am," Spitfire snarls back,
kneeing Adam between the legs,
Spitfire wouldn't hit a person because he was scared he wouldn't have the strength to finish the fight, but kicking and kneeing was a different story,
Adam sighed in pain as Spitfire stood up straight,
blood still running down his lips,
as he talked, his teeth stained red, " I hate you," he added.
After the pain settled, Adam stood once again, powerful,
Spitfire was headed to his dresser slowly to try and stop the bleeding inside his mouth,
he bit his lip terribly and thought a tissue might help.
Adam furiously looked for something to ram Spitfire with,
he grabbed the small chair at the vanity stand,
and smashed it against the floor,
Spitfire jumped at the crashing sound and turned to look,
but met with the leg of a wooden chair,
Spitfires head went back with the blow,
his vision went from clear to foggy,
Spitfires hair flying in slow motion,
his eyes shut
Adam watched as Spitfire hit the ground unconscious,
his hand fell lifelessly on the floor,
the skin on his cheek, broken from the powerful hit to the face,
Adam bent down to check his pulse,
He hit Spitfire with such intensity,
it's a wonder he didn't break his neck,
Adam Straightened Spitfires head,
he was breathing but inert,
Adam stood and ran to Spitfires dresser drawer,
grabbing the needle and thread,
walking to Spitfire bitterly,
" This will be the last time you backtalk, boy," he says in a whisper, stooping beside Spitfires head,
Adam quickly threaded the needle,
which happens to be very dull,
piercing it through one of Spitfires lips,
stabbing it through the next,
Blood gushed from the rather large holes
intertwining thick black upholstery thread,
Adam gritted his teeth, jabbing the needle up through Spitfires bottom lip and straight through the top lip, repeating these steps,
closely threaded together till he hit the end,
The needle was horrifying red with blood dripping everywhere,
Adam grabbed Spitfire's shirt,
wiping his notably gory hands-off,
till they were clean, " talk now Spitfire... I dare you,"
Adam says and stood, with a laugh, he took his leg and swung a kick in Spitfire's side,
Spitfire moved with Adams pushing thrust across the floor,
his shirt being drenched by blood, his neck stained with red.
Adam bent down and grabbed Spitfires hand, his nails, black as night,
Adam gently laid it back down, leaving the thread and needle in his palm,
Adam stood and took a long look at what he just did,
his hands shook as he realized he just sewed his sons mouth completely shut "SPITFIRE," He screamed as he knelt beside him,
trying to get him to wake,
Adam was flipping out by the Blood,
that seemed to run and puddle on the floor,
Spitfires shoulders were drenched with Blood,
dripping from his mouth,
Adam stood, terrorized by the view,
he glimpses to his White sleeves that were no longer white but stained blood red with Spitfires liquid,
Adam Screamed as he backed off from Spitfire,
who was out like a light, Adam reached for the doorknob,
cracking it open, asking himself,
" What did I just do?!" He darted through the door,
heading into his room where Brook laid sound to sleep,
He dashed into the bathroom to change his shirt that was drenched with blood, he tore out of it, ripping it into tiny shreds tossing them into the toilet following a flush that he prayed got rid of the evidence,
Adam walked to the bed,
settling in for the night but no sleep for Adam,
the horrifying thoughts kept him very much awake.
Two hours later...
Spitfires eyes cracked open,
his throat felt sore as he took his hand to feel the dried blood,
he took his pointer finger and middle, dropping the thread on the ground, and slowly touched his mouth where he was feeling so much pain,
Spitfire drug his fingers over the textured thread, and his hands shook,
he couldn't remember all that went on, but his head hurt,
Spitfire hardly had the strength to lift himself off the floor, his elbows shook, as he crawled over to his mirror, he passed the chair leg that made him blackout, and finally made it to the vanity stand, pushing aside the broken chair, he used the handles from the small drawer as leverage to stand, first, his eyes followed his bloody shirt, then up to his neck, once his eyes met with his mouth through the mirror, he screamed,
he forcefully broke a few threads, dropping to his knees in misery, the worst pain he's ever experienced, he cupped his hands over his mouth grieving, he tried to open his mouth to talk but the black thread was stopping him,
Spitfire screamed through the string, it came out high pitched but muffled, his hands shook, his entire body went immediately into shock and Spitfire became pale, he crawled to his dresser drawer, weakly opening the bottom drawer, he grabbed ahold of a few shirts, and other personal necessity, tossing them into a bag, Spitfire crawled, but his legs fell limp, so, he pulled himself over to the side of his bed,
he clutched a pencil that rolled under his bed and a crumbled piece of paper, barely having the energy to write in bold letters,
" To whoever reads this,
Don't look for me, pretend I'm dead.
I love you cousin grey and uncle, so many more I will miss but don't have the strength to continue this letter,
Goodbye family...
Love, Spitfire"
His hands shook as blood dripped from his mouth to the white paper,
he was tired, his head hurt,
and his mouths pain was about enough to kill him,
Spitfire wobbles over to the window,
he strained himself to stand,
he had a bag full of belongings, the white powder,
And he slowly sat on the window ledge, lifting his legs to the other side, Spitfire walked to the edge of the roof looking down to the ground,
He prayed that with the force of him landing,
it'd be enough to end his life,
so he jumped.....
Spitfire hit the ground solid,
he was already crying,
but the pain from the landing was a good excuse to continue,
he was still very much alive, so, he crawled over to a tree,
dragging the bag behind him,
Spitfire seriously needed something to grab to be able to stand up,
and he staggered to his feet, he did one last look to the house,
his hands shook as his whole body trembles, then he looked away and walked further from the mansion,
four miles down the road...
Spitfire stilled staggered along,
a drip of blood, following every once in a while on the sidewalk,
like the walking dead Spitfire swayed from one side to the other with each step he took, he was in so much pain it was unbelievable,
Spitfire fell to his knees in Beau's driveway, his car in the front yard, Spitfire weakly reached out towards the trailer as Beaus Dog occurs to Bark and his Porch-light came on,
A silhouette of a man's body was standing in the doorway
When Spitfire's eyes closed, his hand dropped coldly on the cobblestones, Spitfire blackout.
Morning.....