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It was dark out, the only light coming from the surrounding street lights. With music blasting in my ears and a simmering heat rising in my chest I storm the quiet streets. It's past midnight. I couldn't sleep. There’s a roaring fire growing inside me, threatening to explode like a volcano. I decided to take a walk round the block. My room felt like a sauna, if I didn't leave it would've burst into flames.
The voices I hear, tell me to calm down. I Force calming breaths, as one 'helps' with my breathing. Stop it, I scold. You're not helping any one. They ignore me and slowly the blaze burns down to embers.
I continue walking.
Eventually my feet lead me to a dirt track, which turns into what looks like the park. The moon peeking out from behind the clouds, being the one of the few light sources. The other being stars. My eyes had already adjusted to the darkness.
We are not alone, a female voice whispers.
Indeed.
We are not.
A hunched figure sits in one of the adult swings, they appear to be drinking something.
They have yet to notice me.
I trudge forwards without bothering to be quiet. My trainers slap the dry ground. The swoosh of my jeans follows my movement.
The figure looks up, groans as they stumble upwards, the swing smacking their legs. They stumble some more and run out of the exit on the other side.
I stop at the wooded fence and just stare at the retreating shadow. Something about that guy seems... familiar.
it's him.
Oh, of course it is. I recognise him now. It's my stupid excuse for a father.
Going round the fence , ignoring the actual park, I quicken my pace. Slowly turning into a light jog. He (I refuse to call him dad, he lost that honour years ago), stumbles again and collapses completely onto the grass.
I sprint.
The voices are silent.
I finally reach him, slightly out of breath. I slide down my headphones and place them around my neck. The music dropping its base can still be heard through the speakers. Its deafening tones leave my ears ringing. I watch, expression neutral, as he scrambles up and takes a few heavy steps back.
He's looked better, I guess. You can tell he's been drinking though, his eyes are all blood shot.
He sneers.
I look on unimpressed.
He spits at my feet and gave a nasty greeting. His breath smells of booze.
My nose scrunches up; I’ve never liked the smell of alcohol.
His movements are all exaggerated, but sluggish. No doubt he's completely wasted.
I can feel the rage bubbling up again. I am really, really in the mood to punch something right now.
Did he say what I thought he said?
He is! He's repeating it again, more coloufly this time.
He's insulting mum!
How dare he!
How dare he, after everything he's done, he blames it all on her.
How dare he.
How fucking dare he!
I see red
I hear shouts.
I feel something break under my fingers.
A groan.
Further colourful insults.
A scrape across the cheek.
Pain.
Heat.
Heat everywhere.
More shouts.
Screams.
Cry’s of pain.
Begging.
I freeze.
I can't move.
Why can't I move?!
Move. let me move, damn it!
I hear thousands of voices all saying the same thing.
No you cannot.
You have done enough.
Stop.
That's when I realise in my blind rage. What I have done.
Smoke is everywhere.
Small Fires dotted about.
A black smoulderd thing in front of me.
What ever it is it's still moving, a slow up and down rhythm.
Oh. My God.
I nearly, almost killed him.
Fear.
panic.
No, no, no, no, no...
Over and over, I repeat that word.
I stumble in my shock.
I turn and bolt.
I don't look back.