Why Are You Home? || Self Para
TAGGING: Zachary Fields
LOCATION: His house
TIME FRAME: Early Afternoon of Tuesday 16th July 2013
Walking into the house, Zachary gulped as he heard the television on in the living room. Closing the door as quietly as possible, he shoved his keys back into his pocket; as he never left them on the side in case he needed to make a quick get away.
Moving further into the house, he froze as a brandy glass came flying past his face and shattered on the wall behind him. Shards of glass flew in every direction, several pieces cutting his cheek as he didn't have time to shield his face. "What are you doing home? Got fired, did you?" Zachary's father, John, hoarsely asked from his chair in the living room. "N... no..." Zachary stammered out which only seemed to anger his father. Spying his father getting up, Zachary made a break from the stairs praying that he'd be able to reach his bedroom before his father got him.
Zachary had just reached the top of the stairs when he felt his father's hand wrap around his ankle. John pulled his son's ankle, sending the twenty year old crashing to the floor with a thud. Yanking him back he delighted in hearing his son groan in pain from being tugged down several steps. "You're a waste of space, Zachary." John hissed as he punched his son for the first time; going for the ribs for maximum pain but without leaving a visible bruise for anyone to see. He may be a drunk but he was a smart drunk. "Fired from your job because you're shit. You're worthless. Heck, you made your own mother run away so I'm surprised you held them down for this long. No-one will ever want you, Zachary. I wish you'd never been born. You ruined everything." John continued on, raining down blow after blow on Zachary who was now curled up in a ball, doing his best to protect his head from the random punches.
As John straightened up, Zachary took his chance and pushed his father; sending the older man tumbling backwards down the stairs. Scrambling backwards up the stairs, he sat at the top and tried to catch his breath. He sat there and stared at his father's motionless form. Zachary didn't move again until he heard John groan as he came too. Getting too his feet he fought the urge to cry out knowing it would only anger John more. Making his way into his bedroom, he shut and locked his door before curling up onto his bed. He knew he was bleeding, he could feel it trickling down his cheek and chin but he couldn't move just yet. He just needed to lie there and calm himself down.
Downstairs Zachary could hear his father moving around and finally, he got to his feet and walked over to his desk where he kept the extensive first aid kit he'd bought a while back. Grabbing the mirror, he winced from the movement. It seemed as though his father had managed to break a rib or two. Sadly it was a pain that Zachary was all too familiar with now. Staring into the mirror, he sighed as he saw the cuts on his cheek and the bruise forming under his chin from when he was yanked down. Slowly but surely, he began to clean up his face. As he wasn't at work he had no idea how he would explain this, maybe he'd just stay hidden for a while.
Moving back over to his bed, Zachary curled up in a ball and wished for the pain to stop. For some reason this beating seemed to hurt more than usual and he had no idea why.