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    ShadowDancer
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Montana High - 2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

 

I walked in the kitchen door, seeing my mom and dad sitting at the kitchen table. I went to the sink to get some water, turned around and saw my father staring at me. “What now?”

 

“What are you doing in here? Did you get the hay in the barn?”

 

“No, I just got done with the fencing.” I stared back at him, just knowing that shit is going to happen, like always.

 

“Fine, now get out there and get the hay done. You are the most useless kid I have ever seen. You don’t know your ass from a hole in the ground. I don’t even know why we had your worthless ass. Should have given you away when you were born. Now get out there and do what I told you to do.” By the time my father got done with his ranting and raving, I was so damn mad. I had been up since six and got everything done except putting the hay in the barn, and all he has done is sit and drink one beer after another. And he had the guts to call me worthless.

 

“You are the most hateful man I know. I’m not going to be your whipping boy anymore. I’m done here. When I turn eighteen that will be the day I tell you to go... to... hell.”

 

“Well, that day is two days away, so get your ass out there do what I told you to do, NOW.”

 

“No, I’m going to take a shower then I’m going into town. I have put in a full day already.”

 

“Get your ass out there and get that hay in the barn right now, boy.”

 

“Go screw yourself, old man. You get off your lazy ass and do it. You have done nothing today except drink that crap.” I started going upstairs to take my shower when my arm was grabbed.

 

“You will get out there now before I beat the crap out of you standing right here, you little piss ant,” my father snarled.

 

“Let go of me, old man. You are nothing but a drunk and that is all you ever will be anymore.”

 

I shook his hand off me and walked the rest of the way upstairs listening to him yelling at me. I’m so glad I only have two days left then I’m out of here. For the last year I have put every penny that I could get my hands on into a savings account at the bank, just waiting for the day to come where I could just walk out of here. I turned and looked down at mom, she was standing next to my father at the bottom of the stairs.

 

“Don’t say it Mom, in two days I’m gone from here. I’m tired of being his whipping boy. That man might have given the sperm to make me, but he sure in the hell is not a dad to me. My dad died the day he first hit me.”

 

My mom had tears on her face. “I know son, I love you.”

 

I took my shower, got dressed and walked downstairs, seeing my mom in her chair wiping tears away and that worthless piece of crap trying to stand up next to the couch. “I love you mom, be back later.”

 

“I love you too. Be careful.”

 

“Aw, how cute. You know boy, I don’t know how anybody could love you. You’re useless, pathetic, and worthless. You will amount to nothing except a piece of trash to be thrown away,” Dad said slurring his words and almost falling down, which got me laughing at him.

 

“I’m pathetic? Why don’t you see what everybody sees when they look at you, and you have the gall to call me those things? Now that is the laugh of the century coming from you. I will see you later mom, and yes, I know she loves me and wouldn’t throw me away, so that is all that matters to me. You are a piece of crap for a father.” I went out the front door going to my truck, still hearing him yelling in the house.

 

I drove into town, stopped at the park and got out. I found a bench to sit on and just sat there thinking how much my life was is screwed up. My father was a drunk and my mom was the sweetest lady that I know. I just don’t understand how a parent can beat on their child. My father started hitting me just before I turned seventeen, when his drinking started to get really bad. If I didn’t do something right, he would hit me upside the head and tell me I was stupid and would never amount to anything. Then it got worse when he would catch me asleep and start hitting me, knowing my reflexes would be off so I couldn’t defend myself as fast as I normally could. I’m just tired, I guess. I know he doesn’t know I’m gay, otherwise I would have been kicked out the house by now. He hates gays and he would tell you right to your face that he does. I just don’t know how my mom deals with all his crap. They have been married for over twenty years but she will not leave the bastard because he would run the homestead into the ground if she was not there to keep it running. She is the one that truly runs the ranch, and my father can’t stand the fact that when her parents passed away, they left everything in her name only, with a clause in their wills stating that my father can’t sell the land or house, can’t put his name on the land, and has no say whatsoever about the land, so basically my father has nothing. If something happens to my mom everything gets turned over to me, even if I left, Mom would know where I was. I already told the lawyers I’m leaving and they will notify me if something happens to my mom because I know my father wouldn’t. It is killing my father to no end, knowing that he has no control over the land and Mom has the last say in how everything is run on the ranch. I want to stay and help mom run the ranch but I also want to be with the love of my life, and I know I can’t have both as long as Dad is still there.

 

My phone rang, pulling me back to the present time. “Yes,” I said as I answered, seeing that it was my mom.

 

“I just called the paramedics, your father collapsed. Will you come home please? I’m going to the hospital with him but I need somebody here to look after the animals.”

 

“Ya, I’ll be there, let me know when you leave and I will come to the house. I will not go to the hospital. That man can die for all I care.”

 

“Honey, I know what you’re feeling. You also know my hands are tied too, I can’t leave this house and let that man run this place into the ground after everything your grandparents went through to make this ranch what it is today.”

 

“I know Mom, but I’m tired of all the beatings and him saying I’m worthless. I don’t deserve that from a man that is supposed to love me and care for me.”

 

“I know sweetie, I really do. Will you please do this for me? I can’t run this place by myself and I know I will have to hire somebody to help when you leave but right now I need you here for me. I don’t want the bank taking it from me now when I only have six months left remaining on this ranch to pay it off.”

 

“I’ll be there Mom, call me when they come and get him. I love you.”

 

“I love you too, son. I will call on my way to the hospital. Be careful please.”

 

“I will, bye.”

 

I don’t know what is going to happen but I do know I have to leave. It is going to be rough when I do pack and leave but I have myself to think of, and with him always hitting me, getting in my face about one thing or another, I’m at the end of the line. I have to stay away from him or I’ll probably end up killing him. I don’t know how, but one day I will have the last laugh with that man.

 

 

 

As the author, I take final responsibility for all parts of the story, including any errors.

Copyright © 2014 ShadowDancer; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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