First two chapters of a story iM writing

Chapter One

The entire world was peaceful. Birds were chirping, leaves were rustling in the wind, and you could almost smell the warm breeze as it blew by. This was it. This was the life. This was serenity. 

“Tye, what the heck!” Jerry, my sadistic manager, screamed as he ripped out my headphones and shut off the fan sitting on my desk. I was suddenly shot back to reality. The smell of the sweet breeze changed to a strong odor of meat and the sounds of trees and birds was replaced with the loud chatter of customers and cash registers coming out from the open door of the breakroom. 

“I’ve been calling you for five minutes, we need help. We’re getting swamped out there!” He stood over me, the sweat dripping from his brow. He reeked of B.O. and cigarettes.

Babum.

“I still have fifteen minutes left for my break,” I said to him. He didn’t seem to care.

“You think I care how many minutes you have left on break? We all have to make sacrifices sometimes. Now get your ass out there!”

Babum. Babum.

I stared at him, silent for a moment. His fierce eyes looked me up and down as the break room lights shone brightly off his bald head.

Babum. Babum. Babum.

Finally, I let out a sigh. “Yeah sure man. Just gimme a moment.” 

He turned toward the door as I put away my headphones. Then he stopped and turned back again.

“By the way,” he said, “I need you to work a double tonight. Sarah called out so we need you to work the grill.” I almost saw the shadow of a grin form on his face as he turned back again and left.

Babum babum babum babum! Anger boiled inside me and the room began to spin. Stars swirled around in front of my eyes. My body turned cold.

Why do I always let this happen to me, I thought to myself before finally calming down. 

As I got up, stars again began to dance in my vision. “You’re ok now. Calm down.”

I took a couple deep breaths before walking out of the breakroom, back to a world of chaos, suffering, and flipping burgers.

“Oh, there our Princess is.” I heard someone say just as I left the room. I turned my gaze to the voice. Anthony, my shitty supervisor, was leaning against the prep table, peeling an orange with a dirty steak knife. He mindlessly kicked at the peels as they fell to the ground, scattering them everywhere. I ignored him.

I looked over to the front of the store. Rows upon rows of hungry, impatient eyes stared back at me. Irene, only two months into her employment, was frantically getting peoples’ orders, turning to get their items ready, to then lead them to Jerry, who was leaning over the cash register, the light and fierceness gone from his eyes.

Babum. Babum.

I looked back at Anthony, who had finished peeling the orange and was now eating. The juices flowed down his lips and chin as he smacked and chewed, seemingly as loud as he could. I stared at him until my world was fuzzy and all that was clear were his hands, holding the knife and the orange, bringing them to his mouth, spraying the juices, without a care in his life.

“What do you want, Princess?” Anthony said, noticing I was staring at him.

“Aren’t you gonna help?” I said, waving to the ever increasing line of people.

“Me? I’m the supervisor, I’ll supervise. Plus, I’m on break. Y’all got it.”

Babum babum babum babum babum. 

His face distorted as stars again formed in front of my eyes, dancing and teasing. The stars were laughing, saying “are you really going to let this happen to you over and over and over…” 

I reacted before I could even tell what was happening. I launched myself at him, grabbing the orange in one hand and the knife in the other. The orange squirted pulp and juice as I mushed it into his face, knocking his head off the prep table. In the same moment, I lifted the knife to his neck, pressing lightly.

“Stop! What are you doing?” Jerry yelled as he rushed over. I instinctively dropped the knife and looked at Anthony’s face. His wide eyes stared up at me as tears, snot, and orange juice streamed down his face. I got the chills.

“Get out! Get out right now! You’re fired, do you hear me? Fired!” I could hear Jerry screaming, but it was no use. I was already halfway out the door. In the corner of my eye, I saw the shocked look of Irene, still helping the customers, as Jerry propped Anthony up on the prep table.

“I’m sorry,” I said to her. She responded with a quick nod. It couldn’t be helped.

The cold air cut at my face and took my breath away as I walked out the door. I belatedly realized I forgot my jacket in the break room. It was too late to get it now.

Sacrifices…

Chapter Two

“Get out.” my mother’s words cut through me like a knife.

Babum babum babum.

My mother, who had greeted me warmly when I had walked in, was now stone c0ld, crossing her arms and tapping her foot.

“We’ve been over this many times, Tyler. You wanna drop out of school because you think it’s not for you? That’s fine, you just gotta find a way to pay rent ‘cause there’s no way in hell you’re staying here for free.”

“…”

“You get a job, then lose it after a month because you never show up? I let it slide ‘cause that’s what mothers do.”

“…”

“And now you walk up into my home after I stuck my neck out and got you this new job, after I ignored the fact that you pay the rent when you feel like it, after you told me that you finally think this might be a job you can tolerate, you come here and tell me that you got fired after assaulting your coworker?!”

Each statement dug deeper and deeper into my chest. My face felt hot while my body was cold and the strength in my knees started to give out.

“Mom, listen, I understand you’re mad but-”

“Mad? I’m furious! Why does this keep happening, Tyler? You act like nothing matters, like your life doesn’t matter. What are you even doing with yourself?” It was as if my mom had been bottling up every critique and issue with me and everything was spilling over. I realized I had finally broken her.

“Well, what do you have to say for yourself?”

I stood there in silence for a moment. I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t think of a single thing to say that would make the situation better. I wanted to tell her that Jerry was a piece of shit who got off on making everyone’s life miserable, except for that jerk off Anthony. I wanted to tell her that every moment I spent zoning out in a mind numbing lecture, working these minimum wage jobs, or even waking up in the morning felt like a waste of time. I wanted to tell her nothing ever felt right and that I just wanted to crawl into a ball. I stared at her stone wall face and folded arms. It all felt like excuses.

“Don’t say anything then, that’s fine. I’ll give you an hour to get your shit and get out of my house.” Venom spilled from her mouth. “You act just like your father,” she almost whispered.

“Mom…”

“Mom nothing! One hour, then out!” she stormed off, arms still crossed.

Babum babum babum babum babum babum.

My heart, which had been frozen in time, began to race again. I ran up the stairs to my room and shut the door. My breath was shaky and my legs gave out the last of their strength. I landed in a pile of dirty clothes and empty cans that had been strewn across the floor. The metal of the cans crinkled and the fabric dug into my back but I didn’t have the energy to move. I looked at my clock across the room. 5:01. Musty air began to fill my nostrils as I attempted to calm down, but this time it didn’t work. 

Babum babum babum babum babum babum babum babum babum babum.

My mind raced a mile a minute and the stars returned, twisting and distorting my vision while I stared at the ceiling. The air served as no satisfaction to my lungs and I began to gasp for air. My face and chest felt as if it was covered in ants.

“You just need to calm down! Calm! Down!” I yelled then sprang up.

My room closed in on me, protecting me from the outside while also squeezing the life out of me. I looked around, at the loose change I had thrown on my desk, at all the cords I couldn’t find space for in my closet, which was bursting with clothes I no longer wore and trinkets that had lost their place on my desk. Unread books piled up in the corners of my room. What would I even take with me?

I walked over to my closet and threw the door open. A waft of stale air hit my face and the smell of mothballs forced me to cover my nose. I searched around for a moment before I caught sight of what I was looking for. High up on the shelf, past all the junk, old books, and clothes, I pulled out a small grey box marked with the letter T. Inside was a silver necklace, with a red and purple butterfly hanging from it.

Memories of opening up the present my father gave me on my 9th birthday flooded my brain. I had cried and thrown it back in the box because I thought a butterfly necklace was too girly. My mother had yelled at me for being ungrateful, but my dad said it was fine. I had tossed it in my closet that night, promising myself that I would never wear it. That was the year before my parents had gotten divorced and I never saw my dad again.

Since then, I had pulled out the grey box occasionally, even going so far as to take the necklace out and feel the designs on my fingers. It was the last thing my dad had given me and I cherished it, wondering what he was doing now that he had escaped.

Standing in front of my closet, feeling the texture of the cold metal on my fingers once again, something deep in me seemed to burn up. Things had to change. I couldn’t keep living my life the same way. I looked around my room, at the filth I had created. Constantly paralyzed with fear and anxiety, I had let my world slip into chaos. I had no one to turn to, no solutions to work with, but I was determined that something would give. I had to try something.

“Let’s start with packing,” I said to myself. Placing the necklace around my neck, I got to work, stuffing clothes and shoes in an old backpack I hadn’t used since dropping out 6 months ago. It wasn’t long before I ran out of clean clothes to put in the bag. I began to panic again, how could I manage to change my life when I couldn’t even handle doing laundry? I had no one I could call or anywhere to go for the night. I was being sent out in the wild with no world skills to fall back on.

No, you can’t just give up before we’ve even started. We’ll figure this out.

Without anything left to do in my room, I walked into the hall. I looked down the hall towards my mom’s room, which was slightly ajar, and heard her low voice on the phone. I began walking slowly towards the door, her voice becoming clearer with every step.

“…I just don’t know what else to do. He walks in the house every day with that dead look in his eyes. You can’t even get a conversation out of him…I never said it was his fault, but I can’t keep allowing it…no, mom, I can’t do anymore, he’s becoming just like him…I know he’s my kid and I do love him but…no, I get it…yeah, I’m gonna go, mom…I love you too bye.”

I heard a little click and then silence. I stood there, motionless, not even trying to breathe, until I heard her begin to cry, softly at first, then building into an uncontrollable blubber. My heart sank. I had already known that the way I had been living my life was affecting me, but to hear my mom break down from it was too much to bear. Tears flowed down my face, years of pain, anger, and hurt flowing out like an open floodgate. I ran down the hall towards the stairs, fearing my mother might hear me through her own sobs, crashing down on the top steps and letting everything out. I sat there for a while, letting the tears cool down my hot cheeks. For the first time in what felt like forever, my mind felt clear and light.

“I’m sorry, mom,” I whispered then got up and walked down the stairs.

The hour to leave was still yet to be up, but seeing her before I left felt like more than I could handle. I imagined how she would feel about me leaving without saying goodbye, which made me feel even worse. She would have to understand.

The house was so quiet I could hear the blood rushing through my body. There wasn’t the usual hum from the light of the kitchen or the scurry of mice in the walls. The entire house felt foreign. I walked through the kitchen and living room like a ghost, drifting through without a sign I was truly even there. That’s how I wanted to leave it.

Finally staring at the front door, I froze. This was really it. After I walked through these doors, everything would change. I looked back in the direction of my mother’s room. I was really leaving my mother here all alone. I looked around for a moment, before taking off my backpack and staring at the pin I had gotten from a con I went to with my mom the year after my father had left us. It had been from a random booth selling free pins, but I cherished it and had stuck it on every backpack I’d gotten since. I took it off and put it on her coat that had been hanging next to the door. I was now ready to leave.

The green neon light from the clock on the microwave shone through the darkness of the house. I looked over at it. 5:55. I walked through the front door, not knowing if this would be the last time I ever saw this place again.