School's Out

                It was here, finally here. The last day of school was ticking away, and it was about damn time. I considered the place to be more like a deathcamp if anything else, a majority of the people here were even like the inhabitants. There were the Nazis, and there were the inmates trying to make it through the day. The final bell rang and broke the silence in psychology, my last class of the day and now of the year. I paid no attention to the hordes of people going totally nutshit down the halls. These were mostly kids in 9th grade that had no idea that their days of not having to worry about life were numbered. Hell, it would turn out to be my last day of being worry-free.                    

                Reality was at home, waiting for me to get off the bus and walk into the house. Reality was waiting there, getting ready to kick me in the balls without mercy. Little did I know, life would take a detour. But at the time, I stopped for only a few minutes to say goodbye to a few people, I figured I would see them again later on. Afterward, I carelessly threw everything school related in my locker into the trash. Though I did keep all of my pictures of metal musicians and girls I had met throughout the year (more on that s**t later) that I had pasted on the inside of the door. Having made it through the crowded halls, and out the front door, I turned around as I walked out of the building, and with all of the confidence in the world smiled and raised both middle fingers at the school. I wouldn't be their property for three months. F**k them, was all I thought before stepping onto the bus.

                 The bus ride home was filled with silence, completely quiet. Still, save for ignorant children happy to have made it past freshman year who didn't know how to shut up. You know it's totally uneventful when all you can recall are things you saw through the window. The girl that got off the bus at the stop before mine was pretty, roadkill decorated someone's driveway, all of the houses we passed in one neighborhood looked to be ripped from a Dr. Seuss book as all of them had no unique features of their own; basically there was and still is nothing to see in Eden Ridge, or the rest of Wisconsin for that matter.

                   Now it was time to step off the bus. I did, noticing no one in the seats to my sides walking down the isle. Down the steps, onto the street, around the bus, and to my house. Something rotten's behind that door, I repeated again under my breath. My feet didn't want to move, so I was pretty much dragging them up the driveway, scraping the bottoms of my shoes on the pavement. One by one, each step brought me closer to the front door. One step higher onto the patio, and the pattern continued. Someone in my head screamed at me. What the hell are ya doing? Dumbass, you know what could happen when you walk through that door? I wouldn't listen to even myself, and with a turn of the door handle and one push forward, I rushed inside.

                  Silence met, that creepy silence before something awful happens. "Eddie?" My mom whispered to me from down the hall in a mocking tone. There was not going to be a good result to this. Worse, the stench of vodka hung in the air. Quietly, my mom tiptoed from the bathroom holding an empty flower pot.

                   "It's happenin'. Your a*s is outta here!" She raised the flower pot, now pissed off beyond belief, I had to run. The flower pot shattered behind me on the floor.

                   "Look what you made me do! Get back here." My mom was finally losing it for sure, I dashed upstairs to my room. Back off! It wasn't his fault. That was all I managed to yell in back of me as I booked through my door. I had a lock put on the door months ago to stay safe from my mom and her rage on my and my sister, Kathleen. I made sure the door was dead-bolted after slamming it shut, and I backed away from it. My mom kicked at the door, as usual, until she got tired and she'd drink more downstairs.

                    An hour went by of her screaming my name, making threats, and cracking away at the door with all of her strength. And as always, I did the same thing I always would do to drown her bullshit out. My Marshall amp went all the way to full volume (I had earplugs on) and with a Schecter C-1 Blood Moon guitar churned out every ridiculously heavy riff to get her to go away. If guitar didn't do it, then I did the same on my ESP F4E bass guitar and shook the walls for the same result. There were others, but they were in the basement, most of them my dad's. But that day, my mom wouldn't go away. The guitar was set down, the amp shut off.

                 After months of being kicked at like it owed someone money. the dead bolt on the door was breaking away from the door frame. Slowly, the space between the door and frame widened with each of my mom's kicks. She was getting in, but I wouldn't be unprepared. The wooden chair at my desk was in my hands within seconds, ready to swing. The door tore open.

               My mom barelled through the door, Absolut bottle in hand. "Get over here," was all she slurred even though she was coming toward me. I waved the wooden chair in that crazy b***h's face. You aren't doing this to me and Kat anymore. I won't let you! My mom laughed in my face, blowing alchohol stenched breath at my nostrils.

               "Go ahead, crack my head open ya' little b*****d. I wanna see ya' try." I hesitated, she deserved it, and I knew it. But I wouldn't take a swing at her.

                "Just whatta I thought. Don't ya worry 'bout staying here with me. Get your s**t, and get out! I'm not kidding this time." I stopped and thought; she wasn't bluffing, her face and the smashed door frame behind her guaranteed it. If that's how you're gonna be, fine. Throw us out on the street, Kat and I can support ourselves. We're leaving.

                  My mom stupidly laughed uncontrollably again, "Never... ergh... said that s**t's going with ya'. You're on your own, good luck." It seemed that openly disowning me calmed my mom down, and yet I didn't resist at all. She would kill Kat if she had to if Kat went with me. I had to come up with a plan though quickly to keep Kat safe from my mom. Then it came to me, and I realized what I had to do to keep Kat safe, at least for a little while. My mom would without a doubt do something crazy as hell to me for what I was going to do. It's not that she's really tough or anything, it's just that she seems insane enough that if she said she would do something extreme, she probably would do it. But I had to cross the line and risk myself.

                 I'm gonna make sure you don't do anything to Kat. After I'm gone, she'll be the only sane one left in this house. When she comes home, you won't even touch her! My mom sneered at me, then chuckled like a toddler. Before she could speak, I snatched that damn bottle of Absolut from her hand and threw it to the wall.

                 Vodka splashed all over the wall as glass shards shattered further and bounced to the floor. My mom stood in disbelief, her mouth hung open. Until I had rushed past her and was heading for the kitchen, my mom hurried after me, crying for me to quit it.

                  "Eddie! No, you can't. Stop, please!" Having made it downstairs, I threw the liquor cabinet doors open, and pulled every bottle I saw in there and let them all fall to the floor and shatter when they hit. Now my mom was sobbing maniacally, though she still made no real effort to stop me. There was more booze in the house, I knew that. So every beer and wine bottle in the fridge went to the floor, and every beer can was brought outside and cracked on the concrete to let all of the beer inside spray out and pool. My mom was a complete mess after all her damned drinks were gone, as she knelt in a pool of alchohol and glass shards. The damage was done, I now had to leave. I left my mom to sob pathetically, it would only last until she sobered up.

                   My dad had a minivan that left for me to drive, and since I was taking pretty much everything I owned with me, I had to take all of the seats out besides the driver and passenger seats. Whatever I saw in my room, it went into boxes and to the van. Clothes, instruments (my guitar, bass, and keyboard) computer, small TV, food, money, blankets, pillows, albums, sound system, bass and guitar amps, and other little sentimental things I couldn't leave behind. All of it, was packed into the van after multiple trips to and from my room. When all was ready to go, I looked inside the van and saw there must have been maybe 2/3 of the space inside left. I knew that I had to fill that space, but with that, I didn't know. Then I thought of the basement, I hadn't been down there for weeks. Then I thought of my dad. Before I continue on this, you may be wondering, Where was this guy's dad in all this s**t? Well, to answer your question, I'll say this. It's probably hard to interfere in these kind of situations when your ashes have been scattered over The Netherlands. But I'll try not to bring you down early, you can hear more on him later.

               See, my dad had an arsenal in the basement that made up the home studio that I had realized I couldn't leave for my mom to pawn like she already had done to most of his gear (mostly sound stuff, like amps and PA's) To most, they were only instruments, and amps, and hardware. But to me, they were all I had left to preserve my dad's legacy as it was cruelly forgotten by most. I wasn't gonna leave till every musical possession of my dad's was in the van. The only personal possession of his I was able to hold on to was his  journal that he had kept all his life, but I never had the courage to read it.

             As my mom glared at me from her recliner in the family room, I hauled everything from the studio upstairs, to the garage, and into the van. Guitars and basses, one by one, were taken in their cases. His remaining sound gear (a Messa Boogie half-stack and a Boss multi-effects pedalboard) were hauled with care. The most difficult thing to carry was this digital workstation (that's basically a highly advanced keyboard for those that don't know) Getting that up the stairs was not easy whatsoever, as dropping that thing would be devastating. But I managed to get it to the van anyway. Everything else that remained down in that studio was carried and rushed to the van. I was no longer someone who lived in the house, and I was overstaying my welcome as a stranger.

            Kat wasn't gonna be home for a few hours. I wasn't going to see her before I left. After one last trip from the basement, I stopped on the stairs and looked to the end of the massive room itself. My dad's drumkit, all of it amassed over 12 years stood silently at the opposite wall. I wouldn't have been able to fit a single tom or cymbal in the van, but I hated the idea of leaving it for my mom to pawn for more booze or drugs. And as long as she had something to be drunk or high off of, she would inevitably hurt Kat. I decided I would have to sneak back later and somehow bring all of it from the house.

              Minutes later, with no goodbye for obvious reasons, I stood outside the van, looking in. My dad's things took up the largest space, more than what I had. And almost every possession of mine I could carry was in there. I really didn't have much, but it didn't disappoint me in the least. Turning to look away, I pulled the door shut after climbing in through the driver's side. It was nearly five o' clock, not that late in the day as I thought it could've been. Looking back at the house as I backed out of the driveway, I thought of the past, over my lifetime. I had already begun to miss it. I couldn't help but stop right on the side of the road after leaving the driveway to think. I stared out of the passenger window and focused on the front door of the house. Feeling regret, I reached for the door handle, ready to leave the car and unload everything again. But remembering who was inside that house, I shifted gears and drove off as fast as I could.