Once upon a time, there was a little boy who always wore a smile. He had his bubba, Daddy, and Mommy. Mommy wasn't his real mom, his Bubba told him so, but Daddy said he had to call her Mommy, and so he did.
Life wasn't perfect, but it was ok. The little boy didn't go to school yet, but his bubba did. Mommy worked, but Daddy stayed home. As far as the boy knew, that was how things were supposed to be, and he accepted that.
It was Friday afternoon. Mommy was still at work and Bubba wasn't home yet. Daddy sat on the couch with a can in his hand.
"When Bubba be home?" the little boy asked.706Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfArKB8kSpF
"Dylan will be home when he gets here," Daddy said, taking a sip of his drink.
"What drink?"
"You talk too damn much, kid."
The boy had started talking young. Someone had a name for the reason for that, but it wasn't a word the boy understood. In fact, the boy didn't understand the tone his father used, only that it was mean, and loud and hurt his ears.
Time passed and Dylan came home. The boy ran to him as fast as he could, demanding to be picked up by the boy who was only a bit older than him. Dylan lifted him into a hug, setting him down on his feet.
Later he was doing homework, but it was the fun stuff, coloring sheets. Sometimes Dylan let him color one of the coloring sheets with him, but not today so the boy played as little boys do, running around the coffee table, until he tripped, knocking over the can on the floor.
He didn't see the hand, but felt it when it landed on his face. He didn't understand the words, the tone but he was talking loud, so loud. He covered his ears when the blow landed it.
That was the beginning. Not the first time his father's hand had landed on him with force, but the first time he felt something he had never felt before, betrayal. And it wouldn't be the last time he felt betrayal, but out of all the years, the nights of stolen innocence, the pain, that one evening was the one he could never forget. It would be the night that haunted his mind for years to come, because if he hadn't spilled the beer, then maybe, just maybe Daddy would have loved him. And even though the years have passed and Daddy was gone, the betrayal went away.
Author's Note: I couldn't write it in first person, i had to be able to detach myself from it, and this was the only way I knew how.706Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡc9RZjhVLFv
