Rowdy's lost chapter

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I slammed the locker room door behind me, frustrated that a basted like Arnold beat me in basketball. Mad with rage, I began pounding my fists into the hard steel of a locker. The noise of my fists and cursing was the only sound that filled the locker room, till my sorry ass team came pouring in. I had to leave. I had to escape. I had to walk home. Getting on the bus with all those losers from the REZ would be humiliating. Plus, that drunken bastard--I called father--would probably be waiting for me. While walking next to the highway, I noticed a stretch of road with no lights. It was dark as far as my eyes could see and the perfect place to be robbed and beaten to death. If I disappeared, no one would miss me. That bastard of an old man would probably smile as he heard the news. “WHY DONT YOU FINISH ME OFF ALREADY,” I screamed. I wanted--so bad--for anyone to step out of the dark and end my misery, but life's not fair because I made it home. The TV was playing loud with old reruns as my father sat, passed out, in his little slice of heaven. I tried sneaking past him, but the floor was littered with empty beer cans to give him warning of my attempt. “Boy…I heard your little girlfriend beat you,” He said. And then he lifted himself out of his chair and shouted, “YOU HEAR ME BOY!" I hurried to my bedroom and curled up into a ball under the sheets. The sound of a heavy belt buckle began hitting the floor and with each stumbling step that bastard made towards me, the sound became louder and louder and louder. Guess that bastard got tired of bruising his drinking hand, while pounding my face. I wish he would pass out drunk before he got to me. I wish I would pass out if he reached me. The sheets were torn off me and flew ac... ... middle of paper ... ...so beautiful that I wanted to stay out here in the woods forever. But, I’m not strong. I hide my scars and Jr displays his as war paint. He’s a real nomad that will eventually escape this place of death. Digging into my pockets, I grabbed the shredded remains of Jr’s gift. And with one big gust of wind they flew up and began to dance in the warm glow of the sun. Slowly sailing past the borders of the Rez and to the furthest places that Jr would travel. I could never tell him my feelings. I could never tell him what he means to me. I could never tell him that I’m in love with him. Having Jr stay because of me would be more painful then all these scares on my body. I’ll have to wait for an opportunity to bury the hatchet with that little shit head. Besides, I’m sure my secret’s safe. That drunken bastard wouldn’t want anyone to know, he has faggot for a son.

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