Blood Rage Ch3

Chapter 3

My Father

     Once I got home I had a beer and drew up a rough draft of the project. I decided I was gonna draw it, paint it and make it in Photoshop to see how it comes out in different styles. I know, it sounds like a big project but I need one right now. Jim brought back a lot of painful memories. When I was fifteen my dad came home from whatever it was he did. He was always losing his job and getting new ones, after the tenth time he got canned I stopped keeping track. My brother had been harping on me so I was in my room painting and drawing trying to calm down. My dad walks in and sees me painting and says.

     “Oh, I see the dickless wad is painting again. You know what your problem is? You’re not a man. You paint, and draw, and make things out of clay instead. Art isn’t for men, art is for pansies. Real men get in fights. Real men spill blood. And you waste your time with this shit!” He shouted as he broke my best piece of art.

     I wanted to kill him. I had for a while before then but it was starting to feel like a better and better idea every second. He walked over to me and leaned in close enough for me to count his nose hairs and said.

     “No son of mine will be an Artist”

     “Oh yeah?”I said angrily “How are you gonna stop me?” He just laughed at that. He laughed for what seemed like ages and then said quitely and simply.

     “However I feel like.”

     As he turned to leave I could feel my blood begin to boil. I felt my demons coming up and taking control as I took a deep breath. I closed my eyes, and when I opened them I was different, and I wanted my father’s blood. I scrapped the piece I had been working on and painted a switchblade sitting in a pool of his blood. After I finished, I grabbed my knife and left my room. He was sitting there watching TV and drinking beer; mom was in the kitchen making him a sandwich, and my brothers were nowhere to be seen.

     Now was my chance. After tonight I would never get beat again. I wouldn’t have to listen to him tear me down every god damn day. This day was going to be the best day of my life. I walked up behind him silent as a mouse and I slit his throat. There was blood everywhere as he struggled to get me and fell out of his chair. My mother shrieked in horror and I knew my brothers would come running soon, I had to get out of there. I ran out the door to take off but standing just outside was my dad, covered in blood, with luminescent red eyes.

     “I guess you have a bit more man in you then I thought” He said as he approached me.

     He couldn’t be alive. He was still bleeding from his neck; he should have bled out by now.

      “Still not enough of one for me to call you son.” He growled.

     I blacked out and next thing I knew I was in the hospital in a full body cast.

    I was pulled out of my flash back when Alison barged in. She was gonna chew me out and I wasn’t in the mood.

     “So.” She growled  “What was going on at the police station yesterday?” she asked with forced calm.

     “Jim was running his mouth again, as always.” I said as I got up to go get a beer

     “No he wasn’t. Last time I had to pay your bail with your money the door wasn’t already open!" She said raiseing her voice along the way."So what happened” she demanded trying to force a bit of calm back into her voice.

     Sometimes she really gets on my nerves.

     “He said that I could make fun of his dietary habits as much as I wanted, but he could go to sleep at night knowing his family cares about him.” Just thinking about it made me want to break something.

     “Other wall.” She said pointing.

     I threw my beer at the wall she indicated and curb stomped one of my chairs which shattered it. At least it was a cheap piece of crap that I wouldn’t miss. Everything in my apartment was since I have serious anger issues. The only thing I spent good money on were my art supply’s which were all locked up in my shed so I didn’t bust them in a mindless rage like I did everything else at one point or another.

     “You have got to stop this Derrick. Do you know why I was able to get you out?”

     “Because you paid my bail” I growled

     “Wrong. I was able to get you out because I paid your bail and for the door with my cut of the commission as well.”

     That got my attention. She needed that money to pay for rent and classes for the upcoming term. She was the only person that could make me feel guilty for losing control.

     “Next time keep a lid on it.” She said as she abruptly left.

     Great, now I felt angry and guilty. I needed to have some fun. I grabbed my jacket, hopped in my beat to hell car, and went to go pick up Jerome for the party at Brad and Catherine’s.