Post by HappyTuesday on Jan 30, 2004 15:18:39 GMT -5
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Crimson Tears Chapter 1
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The door slammed shut with a blatant thud, reviling a dimly lit foyer leading off into the main living area. For Anthony this was home; the only home he’d ever known anyway. Everything had changed after his mom had died, no longer would the floor be scattered with papers, parchment of all sorts holding the keys to Rex’s most brilliant abstractions, nor did the air seem thick, heavily laced with the sent of her perfume. Now the only thing made evident around this house was the sickening aroma of alcohol and maybe a scattered whiskey bottle with desolation written all over it. Rex would guzzle the mawkish poison as if it was the only thing he could truly trust, though Anthony was that last lifeline desperately trying to bestow a glimpse of reality among what was left.
A dingy painting that hung on a far side wall as if in solitude, was all that could be seen during the rapid ascent to Anthony’s room located at the very top of the little town house in which they now resided. The dull roar of the television could be heard along with a faint sliver of light emitting from his father’s bedroom. Not surprisingly enough, there was Rex passed out at the foot of the bed, empty bottle in hand, reeking of alcohol. Anthony just sighed as he, half lifted half dragged his dad onto the bed, with a quite grunt he turned and walked away.
What a way for the poor kid to go through his senior year, forcing himself to stay home most nights in order to make sure his dad didn’t drink his way into oblivion. Shame really so much promise, so much of his father in him. The same quick witted personality always logical, a critical thinker, they even looked the same, except for the eyes, rich and hazel in colour that had been a trait of neither parents. His outlook on life was a little different as well, he’d always been a happy-go-lucky kind of guy which he must have inherited from Mimi along with the hair, cut in a short neat manner but a lot lighter then Rex’s had ever been.
It seemed like every day was in constant repetition for Anthony which, pretty much consisted of going to school and locking himself in his room until his dad got so drunk that Anthony would have to physically wrestle the morbid poison out of his hands. Then he’d simply drag Rex upstairs to sleep it off until the next morning when the vicious cycle would just start, all over again.
This particular night was no exception, it was obvious his dad needed help but Anthony had tried numerous times to get him to talk to someone but it never worked Rex was just to far gone to care.
There were those hellish nights too, were Rex got violent, he’d sometimes take his anger out on Anthony maybe hit him, once he’d even gone so far as to attack his son with a knife. Though physically stronger, Anthony would never fight back. The long rigid scar still faintly outlined the upper part of his abdomen, its crimson gone but still a reminder of its sorrow. He knew deep inside Rex never meant to discommode him, hell Rex was that drunk he probably didn’t realise what had happened. Even so all scars can heal in time if given the chance.
Crimson Tears Chapter 1
---------------------------------
The door slammed shut with a blatant thud, reviling a dimly lit foyer leading off into the main living area. For Anthony this was home; the only home he’d ever known anyway. Everything had changed after his mom had died, no longer would the floor be scattered with papers, parchment of all sorts holding the keys to Rex’s most brilliant abstractions, nor did the air seem thick, heavily laced with the sent of her perfume. Now the only thing made evident around this house was the sickening aroma of alcohol and maybe a scattered whiskey bottle with desolation written all over it. Rex would guzzle the mawkish poison as if it was the only thing he could truly trust, though Anthony was that last lifeline desperately trying to bestow a glimpse of reality among what was left.
A dingy painting that hung on a far side wall as if in solitude, was all that could be seen during the rapid ascent to Anthony’s room located at the very top of the little town house in which they now resided. The dull roar of the television could be heard along with a faint sliver of light emitting from his father’s bedroom. Not surprisingly enough, there was Rex passed out at the foot of the bed, empty bottle in hand, reeking of alcohol. Anthony just sighed as he, half lifted half dragged his dad onto the bed, with a quite grunt he turned and walked away.
What a way for the poor kid to go through his senior year, forcing himself to stay home most nights in order to make sure his dad didn’t drink his way into oblivion. Shame really so much promise, so much of his father in him. The same quick witted personality always logical, a critical thinker, they even looked the same, except for the eyes, rich and hazel in colour that had been a trait of neither parents. His outlook on life was a little different as well, he’d always been a happy-go-lucky kind of guy which he must have inherited from Mimi along with the hair, cut in a short neat manner but a lot lighter then Rex’s had ever been.
It seemed like every day was in constant repetition for Anthony which, pretty much consisted of going to school and locking himself in his room until his dad got so drunk that Anthony would have to physically wrestle the morbid poison out of his hands. Then he’d simply drag Rex upstairs to sleep it off until the next morning when the vicious cycle would just start, all over again.
This particular night was no exception, it was obvious his dad needed help but Anthony had tried numerous times to get him to talk to someone but it never worked Rex was just to far gone to care.
There were those hellish nights too, were Rex got violent, he’d sometimes take his anger out on Anthony maybe hit him, once he’d even gone so far as to attack his son with a knife. Though physically stronger, Anthony would never fight back. The long rigid scar still faintly outlined the upper part of his abdomen, its crimson gone but still a reminder of its sorrow. He knew deep inside Rex never meant to discommode him, hell Rex was that drunk he probably didn’t realise what had happened. Even so all scars can heal in time if given the chance.
