Paranoiac Read Online Free Page B

forehead. His silent muttering became more
passionate. He drank straight from the bottle of scotch and began
to sob, crying my mother’s name, “Oh Helena!” I looked over at my
tear filled self and watched as I stood up, reaching out to our
father even though I was scared shitless.
    My stupid,
teenage doppelganger slowly approached him, trembling in fear. I
watched myself slowly put a loving hand on my fathers' shoulder and
whispered, “Dad, it’ll be okay.” The sobbing man stiffened and
dried his tears before turning around. He smiled, raised the bottle
of scotch and in a flash of lightning brought it down on my poor
beautiful head. I flinched, remembering the pain that rippled
through my skull and traveled into my fingertips. My ears rang, the
bottle shattered and then I watched myself hit the ground. The
glass shredded my arms and hands while I slipped around, concussed
on the now wet, slick floor.
    The man I used
to call dad, laughed as I tried to crawl away from him. I watched
myself pass out before even reaching the stairs. “You deserved it,
you little prick!” He slurred out. Walking over to my motionless
body, he began nudging me with his foot. “Get up, you little
faggot!” He yelled out. I clenched my fist watching as he began his
usual tirade of blame. “If you would have been aborted, I wouldn’t
be stuck with this!” He kneeled down next to my unconscious self
and rolled me on to my side. I watched myself moan in pain while
tears, blood and snot drooled from my face. “I could be on some
island with a supermodel instead of taking care of your mother!” He
drunkenly screamed out. I looked over at my mothers' room as the
door creaked open, yellow light pouring into the hallway. She was a
walking skeleton, coughing and dragging an IV stand behind
her.
    “ What’s all of the noise out here coming from?” She asked
weakly, struggling to keep her footing.
    Immediately my
father stumbled up to her and began to stutter, “No – nothing dear,
you should be in bed.” He walked over to her trying to block the
view of my whining teenage self. “Helena, you should be resting.
You’re too sick to be up,” He said, nudging her to turn around but
it was too late. She saw the crumpled, crying boy on the floor and
lost her composure.
    “ What have you done, Charles?!” She cried out, limping to my
sobbing broken body. She looked over at my father and began to cry
her eyes out.
    “ It was an accident, I was drunk and thought he was a burglar!”
He said, defending himself smoothly as if he had already thought of
a cover story before striking me down.
    “ Call an ambulance, hurry!” She coughed, trying to make her way
to me.
    “ But… Helena you need to…” My father stuttered, trying to coax
her back into the sick room.
    Tears clouded
my vision while I watched my mom stumble towards broken glass and
bright crimson blood. “Call them now!” She yelled tripping on her
IV stand trying to make her way over to me, pulling the IV out of
her arm in the process. When she had hit the ground, an audible
snap was heard the moment she connected to the floor. Her arm was
visibly broken. She pathetically yelped in pain but kept inching
towards my moaning unconscious body.
    My father
stared in horror at my mothers' injuries. Glass crunched and
grinded underneath her as she reached my body. Whimpering, she
hugged me trying comfort and nurse my broken body. I moaned unaware
of my surroundings while my father quickly pulled out his cell
phone and dialed 9-1-1. He was more scared for the safety of his
wife, not his son. He scowled at me while giving our address to the
operator on the phone.
    My memory
slowly began to fade. The room began to whirlwind once again. I
remembered flashes of the weeks it took for my recovery, the anger
on his face when he was forced to take care of both my mother and
me. Slowly I touched my face and felt the scar that will always
remind me of the first time he attacked me and it