Skipping Class

Skipping my last class of the day was the worst thing I could have done. Making it home a few hours earlier than normal caught Rick’s attention almost immediately.

I heard music blasting from the auto garage and decide to walk behind it. He wouldn’t see me and the music helped bury the sounds of my footsteps over the broken branches and loose rocks.

When I opened the door to the house, it flung into Rick who was carrying a cold six-pack. He dropped the pack and at least two of the cans cracked open and began to spray across the already dingy walls.

I should have checked the auto garage before walking to the house. I should have made sure he wasn’t in the house. But all the drama from school had me off my game and I was distracted.

“What the hell are you doing home?” He yelled while yanking me into the house by my arm.

“Rick!!!” I screamed. “You are hurting me.”

“You think I’m going to raise a delinquent. Are you trying the cops to my steps?”

With his free hand, he slapped my face before throwing me down to the floor.

“I don’t care if you had only two weeks left in school, as long as it’s open, you’ll be there.” He yelled.

I covered my face as tears rolled down my burning cheek. I couldn’t lie and say I wasn’t skipping, because I was. But why did he have to hit me?

Anger boiled inside me. “Why did he have to hit me? He could have been like a normal parent and punished me. ‘Two weeks with TV.’ Or, ‘No going out with your friends this weekend.’ It was hard to say which one he should have used because I didn’t know what a normal parent would say.

What was the going rate for skipping school these days?

I heard a buckle unraveling and I opened my eyes, just in time to see Rick releasing the belt from the loops around his pants. He swung high and brought it down hard. Once on my leg and then again on my back.

It stung harder than the slap to my face.

That was it for me. I had reached the end of my straw. I wasn’t going to show him fear or pain anymore. This was the last he would get from me. 

Rick picked up the remaining beer cans and walked over to the couch. He was actually going to sit there and watch whatever sports show was airing during this time.

“Go take a walk.” He said shouting over his shoulder.

It was his way of asking me to reflect on what I did wrong. He knew if I had just gone to my room, I would have slept to escape this nightmare. And he knew I would never run away from this house that my late grandfather called home. The home he gave to me, but I would never have. He knew he could do whatever he wanted and I would never leave this place.

I walked out of the door and inhaled a bit of fresh air. But no matter how much I tried to calm myself, I was angry. Angrier than I had ever been before. 

Soon I found myself walking away from the house toward the main road. When I reached the edge of our property, I was going to keep going. I was going to keep going until I got to the end of that road. Maybe even until I got to the end of town. By then, maybe I could find the courage to just leave everything behind.

It was not like anything of importance was keeping me here. I had no loving parents. No warm, inviting home to come home to every night. I had nothing and no one.

The uneven pitch of a radio changing songs stopped the debate going on in my head. I was now standing in the middle of the road, looking back and searching where the sound came from.

Rick left the old radio he kept in his garage on and it was turned up to the highest notch. I shook my head thinking about how he nestled into the couch with half a six-pack and no intentions of coming back to the garage.

These were the things he did. Drink and forget. He forgot everything including the fact that he was supposed to take care of me.

I let out another deep sigh as I approached the garage. The music was so loud, that I could feel the vibrations in my ears. It was a wonder how a radio so small could make so much noise.

Turning it and the lights hanging from the ceiling off for the day, I began searching for the keys to lock up. My eyes stopped on a black key with bold ‘K’ on it. The key sat aside from the other keys, but that wasn’t why it caught my eye. It was the gold-like key chain it was attached to.

A golden rectangle plate adorned the end of a small chain. On it were two letters. D and H.

I wasn’t sure what DH stood for, but I knew where the key belonged.