Part 4

Justen's POV

After Josh left, I still sat on the rock to the left of the tree, staring out at the pond that was just below the cliff. That is until I heard my phone go off. I looked at it to see my dad had texted me telling me to get home. And, as much as I didn't want to go, I got off the rock and made my way to my bicycle to ride home.

When I got home, I put my bike on its stand and walked inside. As soon as I stepped into the house, the smell of drugs hit my nose. He's high again, isn't he? I walked through the messy house and all the way to my room, which was usually the cleanest room in the house. Not to my surprise, my room was a mess. My bed was flipped over, the small number of clothes I had were all over the floor, and there were pieces of glass everywhere.

"Hey," I heard my dad say from the doorway.

"What do you want?" I asked, ignoring him and picking the pieces of glass off the floor.

"Can't I just say hi to my son?" my dad asked.

"A normal dad can, but you're not a normal dad," I said, going to throw the glass away.

My dad, who had different plans, shoved me back into my room.

Again, I tried to calmly leave the room only for my dad to forcefully shove me back.

"Stop!" I yelled.

"Why? I'm just trying to talk to my son but I can't if you're going to be an ass and walk away," my dad said.

"You can talk to me while I clean," I said.

"Because this house is a fucking mess!" I said. "And obviously you don't do shit about it so I'm doing it."

"Listen here you ungrateful piece of shit, I worked my ass off so we could have this house and everything inside of it-," my dad said.

"Yeah, you might've worked your ass off in the beginning, but now all you do Is sit in this pigsty you call a house and do absolutely nothing," I said, interrupting my dad.

Without hesitation, he smacked me.

"Shut your mouth," he said.

"No," I said.

My dad smacked me again.

"If your mom and sister were here we wouldn't be living like this," he said, spit flying from his mouth.

"Yeah, well Natalie moved out and is in college," I snapped. "And mom-"

"Your mom died because of you," my dad said.

My heart shattered. My dad had said things like that before but every time he does, it hurts. Every time he brings mom up it's like he's taking a knife out and stabbing me with the blame.

"Mom died in 9/11 just like hundreds of other innocent people," I said, tears glossing over my eyes. "You can't keep blaming me for something that I had no power over."

"Shut up!" my dad yelled, shoving me to the ground. "I've had enough of you talking back to me!"

I got scared. I knew it was coming from the beginning but every time it scared me. The tears started to roll down my face. That's when I felt it. My dad's foot colliding with my stomach. He then grabbed the collar of my shirt and I tried to get away but his grip was too strong. I panicked as I always did when my dad punched me across the face. He dragged me to the kitchen and threw me on the mess of broken chairs and more shattered glass. I landed on it with a loud "oof". My dad then started going through the drawers throwing things noisily. I got up to run and leave but my dad saw me and threw a fork at me. Screaming in pain, I saw that the fork had actually stuck into my skin.

"What the hell?!" I asked.

"Don't fucking move," my dad yelled crazily.

I listened to him and for the rest of the night, I went through the torture my dad put me through. Every time I tried to escape, and I tried many times, my dad would throw more things at me. Finally, he was done with me and left.

I wrapped my arms around my shaking body and cried wishing that Natalie knew the torture I went through. Most importantly though, I wished my mom was still alive.