Prologue: Breaking the Camel's Back

Dad's face turns purple with anger. Mom sits on the couch, near the TV, wailing. She knows what will come next. I'd get kicked out and they'd probably never see me again, or they'd see me on the news and find out I was murdered over drugs. But I couldn't careless right now; I'll worry about it when that comes around. Right now it's just amusing watching Dad's face turn different colors.

"Tyler, you lazy a*s son of a b***h," he fumes, "if you don't get off that couch and get out of my house I'll..." He's stuttering up a storm, like he always does when he' pissed beyond belief. Mission accomplished. 

"You'll what?" Whenever I question him he gets pissed off even more. I already know what he will do; either he'll get his magnum and threaten to bust a cap in my a*s, he'd beat the s**t out of me, or maybe if he was feeling nice he'd just kick me out. Who really gives a f**k though? I don't, I stopped years ago. 

I bring the blunt up to my lips. Then I exhale a long, drawled out puff of smoke. Just to add insult to injury.  His eyes narrow and I can tell he wants to beat the hell out of me. But he runs up the stairs. Mom runs after him telling him not to do anything he'd regret. I hear a whole bunch of moving around and things falling over, coming from my room.

A few minutes later he's back. In his hand is a suitcase with all my stuff packed up. Mom's pulling at it but he won't let go. 

"John, please," she moans, "don't do anything you'll regret." He ignores her and pushes her away with ease; mom's a skinny and short women, and dad's tall and big around the middle. He throws the suit case at me, and it bounces on the cushion of the arm chair I'm sitting on. It nearly hit me in the face. 

I get the message. After a few more puffs, I get up and set my used marijuana on the coffee table; it wasn't good and I didn't smoke enough to get high. Can't go outside with that, I'll get busted on a drug charge. I pick up my suitcase and walk over to dad.

"Be a doll, and get rid of that for me? Thanks," I say nonchalantly. He growls at me in anger, but I know he'll do it; mom wouldn't let him hear the end of it if he didn't. Mom beats on my back with her fist lightly, telling me to not leave her, that I'm her baby boy, and that we can move past this. We can't move past this and we won't be able to for a long time.

When I'm half way out the front she grasp onto the hem of my shirt. 

"I'll see you soon right?" Her voice doesn't sound like the proud mother, wife, businesswoman I know her to be; it sounds weak and afraid. My eyes almost water. I want to hurt dad not her, never her, but then again, it's unavoidable. I turn around and give her big hug and kiss her on the forehead.

"You'll see me when I come around." With that I'm gone; running down the block to the nearest bus stop.I think I have a couple dollars for busfare. I stuff my free hand into my pocket and feel something flat and smooth. I pull it out and find a silver credit card, the one dad gave me on my  sixteenth birthday with a five thousand dollar limit, which he confiscated two months ago. 

Thanks mom. 

Author's Note

How is it? Are there any grammar mistakes? I nitpicked over it for a long time.