"Don't forget to submit your projects on Canvas before Friday. It's 40% of your semester grade."
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I closed my laptop and packed it into my bag. With everything going on I almost forgot I was still a student. I'd been falling behind on assignments because of how distracting life had been.
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I left class making my way to my car when a familiar voice called out to me.
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"Yo, T."
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The sound of his voice alone filled me with rage and I turned around to see West coming towards me.
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"I didn't know you still went here you're barely on campus these days." His smile was smug and it pissed me off to even see him happy.
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My fist connected with his jaw and I released some of the anger I'd been holding onto. He stumbled back and his face twisted in disbelief and anger.
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"Are you fucking crazy?" He held his jaw and blood seeped out his mouth.
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"You fucked Frankie?"
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He stood up straight still holding onto his face. He scoffed. "Jesus, dude it's not like she was your wife you broke up with her."
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"You piece of shit. You knew why, both of you did."
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"Don't put that on me, you're the one that pushed everyone away."
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I grabbed him by his collar and slammed him into the nearest car. The impact caused him to stumble on the ground and started attracting attention to bystanders. I was too angry to care about the phone flashes and gasps around me. I watched West struggle to get back up.
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"You walk around like the whole world owes you sympathy. Grow the fuck up." I went to lunge another punch at him but he dodged it and hit me first. It landed on the side of my nose and eye causing blood to spray out and drip down my lip. I blacked out in rage. I surged forward shoving him back again this time I made sure he couldn't get a hit in. I hit his head on the glass of the car window repeatedly until my arm got tired. I heard screams coming from behind me but it blurred into nothing. I threw West on the ground letting him bleed out on the concrete. He was still conscious, barely. I wiped the blood from my lip before walking over to my car stepping over his helpless body.
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I sat in the car silently watching people rush over to help him up. I drove home completely empty and content. Once I reached the house I saw my dad's car was home which had me contemplating even going inside.
I tried to walk straight to my room but I didn't even make it past the kitchen. My dad was standing there with the same glass of whiskey he always had and a look of shame.
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"What the hell is going on?"
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I stopped in my tracks making sure not to face him. My jaw clenched up at the sound of his voice. He always dressed up his tone to sound like concern but it was always full of animosity and hate.
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"The dean of students just called. You left a kid for dead out on the fucking side walk today? Are you out of your mind?"
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I scoffed "Like you care."
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"What do you expect me to say? This isn't normal behavior, not even for you."
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I turned around to face him and his expression wore a look of disappointment.
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"You don't get to tell me what's normal for me you don't even know me."
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"Don't start this bullshit. You're a grown man acting like a child. This isn't normal and you know it isn't."
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"Normal? You want to sit here and tell me about what's normal when normal parents remember their kids birthday meanwhile you were halfway across the globe fucking your secretary for mine."
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"Jesus Christ, Thomas grow up! You think the world stops because it's your birthday?"
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I let out a dry sarcastic laugh. "No text, no call, not even a fucking post card."
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He put the glass up to his temple in irritation and took another sip of his drink. "You act like a child you get treated like one."
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"Maybe if you spent less time wallowing and more time getting your shit together, people wouldn't walk away from you." His words echoed through my head.
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"Funny. Coming from the guy who's been drunk since mom's funeral."
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He didn't say a word. He couldn't because he knew I was being truthful. His expression didn't flinch, just tightened like he knew it was coming.
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"Don't worry about the school thing, I'll handle it. I wouldn't want you wasting more of your precious whisky time pretending to be a father."
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I walked towards the stairs, burying myself in bed as soon as I reached my room. I sat back up after a few minutes hanging on the edge of my bed with my head in my hands. Everything felt loud. My heartbeat, my thoughts, the static buzz in my ear. I laughed under my breath but it came out cracked and empty.
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I went to the bathroom to wash off the dried blood from my face. I kicked the door shut behind me and stood there for a second. Blood dried at the edge of my nostril, red smudges on my shirt, and my knuckles torn open. My eye had discoloration and swelled a significant amount in such a small timeframe.
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I let the sink run and let the sting of the hot water hit my hands as blood flowed down the drain. I stared blankly at myself in the mirror trying to recognize the person in front of me.
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I sat back in bed leaning my head on the wall.
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I've never felt more alone in my life.
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I miss you mom. I know this isn't my proudest moment and you're probably pissed at me. I don't know what to do anymore.
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I felt a warm stream of tears stream down my face and I felt lost.
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I opened my phone up to photos and scrolled through until I found my favorite video of my mom. It was from two summers ago, we went to Canada. She hated planes so she always closed her eyes when we took off and when we landed. My dad would purposely lift her window shade up to psych her out when she woke up and we both laughed about her being so terrified. If she was terrified in an airplane I can't imagine how she feels in Heaven. She probably still doesn't look down in fear of falling.
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My phone lit up in the darkness of my room and Gio's text flashed on screen.
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"Hey, you good? I heard what happened today."
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I closed my phone up before it lit up again this time it was Frankie that texted me.
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"Can we talk? I'm sorry."
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I leaned back into my pillow and winced as I rubbed my face frustratedly forgetting how swollen and sore it was. I spent the rest of my night wallowing in self pity and regret. I knew hurting West wouldn't heal any part of me and if anything probably concerned everyone around me even more. I couldn't say it didn't feel damn good though. I think my grief turned into anger because it felt good to hurt him. It felt like I finally had control of something in my life. I had Wests life in my hands in that moment and as scary as it sounds It felt good to watch him break.
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I wasn't a violent person, I never have been. But now I could see why people were. The euphoric feeling and excitement in people's fragility not knowing if their last moments are coming. It was unmatched and almost scary how much enjoyment I had in seeing him crack. I knew what I did was wrong. I knew I'd have to talk to him eventually and apologize to his family. I knew my reasoning for hurting him wasn't justified but I couldn't help but feel like maybe someone would understand.27Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTRdNVumiLy
and then Add to home screen.