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Quick story using some of my life experiences.

September 28, 2012

His hair surrounded his face as he stared at the floor.  Counting the tiles made him relax.
“What can I do?!” he whispered quietly as he sat there.
“Nothing you can do…” said another voice as he jerked his head up and look around the room.  People around jumped a little at his startled movement, but went back to their magazines shortly after.
“I’m losing it…” he whispered dropping his head once more.  As he counted the tiles he began to close his eyes.  He could feel the tears welling up, they were coming but there was nothing he could do.
“Crying only makes you weaker.” the same voice from earlier, he tried to ignore it but it continued “You know that crying does nothing for you, right?”  Lifting his head slowly he realized that the room was now pitch black, no one in it at all, the lights were off and the chairs were empty…except the one across from him.
“Dad? But…but…”
“I’m supposed to be dead, I know.”
“You are dead! I really am losing it…”  He was speaking to a person across from him.
“Crying makes you weak.  Life requires us to be strong, you can’t cry.”
“For starters, i’m not taking advice from a man who killed himself.  And secondly not from a pathetic loser such as yourself!!!”  He stood up from his chair and screamed out the last part of his sentence.  The whole room of people jumped and a few women even screamed.  The room was back to normal, no person across from him.  Slowly he retook his seat.
“Fuck you for making me look like a fool. Wouldn’t be the first time though, would it?”
“You were just in my path, I had to use someone.  You’re much weaker than you need to be right now, son.”  Lifting his head once more he looked around, the room was black again.  With haste he shot to his feet and jerked the man up from the chair and slammed him into a nearby wall, knocking chairs out of the way.
“OH AND I GUESS YOU’RE STRONG HUH?!”  The man stared him in the face, no emotion, just blank.  Rearing back his right hand he unloaded it, square on the chin.
“Don’t you realize?”  The man now spoke with a bruised jaw.
“FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU!!” With each scream another punch, then another, then another, eyes closed shut and tears pouring out.  Feeling arms pulling him away from the man he finally opened his eyes.
A man across from him, whom he had no clue who it was, was a bloody mess as two men dragged him out of the room and threw him on the concrete outside.
“What the fuck is your problem man?!”  A security guard joins the men and quickly slaps cuffs on him.  Now cuffed, face first on the ground he just begins to laugh, almost cackling.  The guard pulls him off the ground and walks him to the police car and shoves him in the back seat, laughing all the way.  His father turned around and looked into the back of the police car, his face a train wreck of bruises and whelps.
“Do you honestly feel better after that display back there?”  His laugh slowed to a clam little chuckle.
“You bet your ass I do, go fuck yourself dad, i’m glad you quit, I still have a life to live, and so does mom.  This isn’t going to stop her, she is a survivor, not you, you’re a loser.  I don’t know what else you have to say to me, and quite frankly I don’t care.”  As the words left his mouth he was shaken awake.
“Sweetie? You ok? They just called and said your mom is fine, she is in recovery, we can go see her in an hour.”  His wife smiled as he rubbed his eyes and stared around the waiting room once more.  “You needed that sleep, do you feel any better?”  He smiled at her and nodded.
“Much better babe, thanks for waking me.”




No clue where this came from, no idea at all.  I know its from my past experiences, but why now? No clue, but it was fun to type, thanks for reading as always, i’ll get back to normal blogs soon enough.

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