The anger within Jake displaced itself with disappointment, his eyes dripping with the sad emotion. Drunkenly his father gripped Jake’s should for support, hoping for an apology Jake braced the weight staring into the man waiting. “I didn’t promise you nuttin’,” he stammered before hurling a forceful laugh at Jake, his hand squeezed into his shoulder with the gesture.
Inflamed rage boiled over inside Jake; he experienced the tipping point. Violently Jake threw his shoulder from beneath the weak man and he fell into the ground. “YOU’RE A LIAR,” he shouted in his face. The words we not only angry they were true. The heap on the ground that Jake called a father was nothing more than that; a liar. “Do you ever tell Helen where you go all night? Do you ever tell me? No, you say you’re working, that’s a lie. When we ask why you drink and you say you weren’t drinking, that’s a lie. All you do is lie!” He was starting to feel the pain of his lost childhood creep up around him.
A vicious outburst erupted from the man; his normally soft voice was harsh and wicked. “I DON’T LIE YOU LITTLE SHIT.” Energy pumped through his veins and the man picked himself off the floor matching Jake’s stature. He was considerably bigger than his son, but far less of a man. “I FEED YOU, I CLOTH YOU, I GIVE YOU A FUCKING HOUSE,” his father’s voice was cold, frosting Jake’s face as he yelled. “BE FUCKING GRATEFUL.”
A crisp movement of Jake’s fist landed on his father’s face hitting him directly on the cheek, just grazing his nose. What did I just do? Fear and adrenaline mixed and raced with each other speeding through Jake’s body. His body failed to react, his feet would not run, his face would not hide. A study whack struck Jake against the head, and he felt the immediate throbbing ignite. A sharp thrust jabbed into his side, clearly a shoe as Glen kicked his fallen son. This is my fault, thought Jake lying hopelessly against the floor. Swish. It was the door again, and his father had left.