by Bradon Nave
“I see how it is,” Jackson said, smiling. The two boys headed up the stairs.
As they reached the hallway at the top, Johnny felt Jared staring him down. “You sure you’re okay, man?” the boy asked Johnny yet again.
“I’m sleepy. That’s it, dude.” Johnny smiled and lightly socked Jared in the arm.
“All right, all right,” Jared replied as he made two fists and air boxed by Johnny’s head.
“Goodnight, dude,” Jared said as Johnny headed down the hall to his room.
“Goodnight, man,” Johnny replied, yawning.
Graye’s comments in the laundry room had made Johnny feel less tense. As he crawled into his bed, he avoided even looking at the window. He pulled the covers up to his chin and almost instantaneously, he felt his eyes grow heavy. He put either of his index fingers in his ear canals in an effort to drown out any outside noise, real or not.
The puppy was just a mutt. Johnny had no idea what kind she was. He only knew that she needed something to eat. The pup’s ribs were showing, and her black coat was filthy dirty and she was infested with fleas. The puppy had followed him from the convenience store as Johnny walked home. The cranky clerk with ugly red hair had no idea where the dog came from. During the walk, the puppy would grow tired and fall behind. Johnny was torn. He knew his father would not allow him to keep the dog, but he also knew the puppy needed help.
Thankfully the pup liked the chickens, and they didn’t seem to mind her. Johnny had taken some bread from the kitchen, removed the molded portions, and mixed it with several eggs from the coop in a bowl. Johnny sat in the straw with the small dog inside the chicken coop. The pup wolfed down the mixture as the sun was setting and the inside of the coop was getting dark. Johnny watched the small pup yawning contently after she finished her meal. The boy tucked the puppy in straw and the old towel he took from inside. He knew he needed to get inside the house and to his room before his father got home. The puppy yawned and laid her head down as Johnny pet her one more time, and then stood up to go inside. The exhausted puppy made no effort to follow him out the door. Her swollen belly was huge, as this was probably the first time the pup had eaten in at least a few days.
He left the chicken coop, taking the time to look around and enjoy the calm, quiet evening. As Johnny looked at the outside of his father’s house, he was once again ashamed to have to live in such atrocious conditions. The boards on the back of the house were warped, and some had fallen off, exposing the insulation underneath. The roof overhang had several holes in it where animals had chewed through and taken residence in the attic. As he looked at the yard, he couldn’t help but feel embarrassed. When people drove by, they had to think poorly of the property in general. There were several large metal pieces of cars, scattered garbage, and even an old mattress. Johnny was not allowed to touch any of it, let alone attempt to clean it up. For whatever reason, his father was convinced he needed everything there.
As he headed to the door, he heard his father’s truck from down the road. Johnny hated the sounds and sights of the old truck. Every time he heard it, he knew that his father was home, and there was no chance for any type of relaxation.
Quickly, Johnny rushed through the backdoor and through the kitchen. As he made his way down the hall, he heard the grumbling from the engine as it pulled into the drive. Johnny made it to his room and closed the door behind him in plenty of time. He heard the creak the old truck door made when it opened, and then he heard it slam. He then heard his father whistling some tune. Johnny hoped the puppy wouldn’t respond to his father’s whistling. He was hopeful that his father might be in a decent mood, as he rarely whistled. He listened as the backdoor came open, and then the thud of his father’s boots as he took a few steps inside. There was a sound of a paper sack crinkling in his hand. Johnny assumed his father had gone to the liquor store prior to coming home. As he sat on the bed, he prayed his father would drink heavy and quickly, and that he would pass out quickly as well.
Johnny’s heart felt as though it had stopped in place as the sound of his father’s boots were coming down the hall at a quick pace—right to Johnny’s room. As the door flung open, Johnny did everything possible to avoid eye contact with his father.
“If you’re hungry, I got some shit from the quick stop,” his father said in a relatively pleasant manner. Johnny was actually a bit shocked by the offer.
Reluctantly, the boy arose from his bed and made his way to the hall, following his father. His hands were shaky as he walked toward the disgustingly filthy kitchen. On the table, amongst the random objects, was a white paper sack, next to it was a pizza pocket on one of the disposable plates.
“Well, don’t just fuckin’ look at it. That shit costs money. Eat that motherfucker,” his father said from the sink. The man walked to the fridge and opened the freezer door with a red plastic cup in hand.
Johnny was very hungry. He hastily made his way to the table, picked up the hot, baked, hot pocket and bit into it. It tasted so good to him, he had always wanted to buy one when he went to the store because they smelled so good. The boy devoured the baked morsel in a matter of seconds. He looked at his father, who had his back to him as he was grabbing ice from the fridge.
“Yea, I thought I’d be nice and grab you some dinner. That’s the kind of father I am,” the man said as he reached for the bottle of whiskey on the top of the fridge. “That fat, ugly-ass bitch at the store said you was in there this afternoon.” The man turned to Johnny, filling his glass with Wild Turkey.
Johnny’s heart raced and the lump started developing in his throat. He knew his father knew about the pup. Johnny didn’t care if he were to be punished, but he deeply feared for the puppy’s well-being.
“Here, I do my best by you. Stopping to grab your lazy faggot-ass something to eat, and then I learn you went behind my back and brought home another lazy-ass, good for nothin’, piece of shit!” the crazed man yelled at the boy. He then chugged the whiskey from his cup, taking large gulps until Johnny could hear the ice fall back down to the bottom of the empty cup. The man was covered in dirt and grime. His face was bright red and sweaty. His overalls appeared as if they hadn’t been washed in ages. The man’s body odor was so strong that it smelled like someone was mincing rotten onions in the kitchen. He looked at Johnny with the cold, cruel stare which Johnny was so accustomed to. There was no escaping it, the night was going to be a long one.
“Where is it?” Thomas asked the boy in a deep tone that sent chills up Johnny’s spine.
“In…it’s in the coop,” Johnny said in a shaky, horrified voice.
“With my fuckin’ chickens?” the man screamed belligerently as he threw the cup to the floor. His eyes were peeled as wide as they could open. He turned back to grab the bottle on top of the fridge and removed the cap again, throwing it in the kitchen sink as he began drinking straight from the bottle. Although there was at least one-third of the liquor still in the bottle, his father drank it down like it was raspberry soda. He then looked at Johnny and threw the bottle violently at him. The bottle sailed by the trembling boy’s head before Johnny even had time to react, and it shattered against the wall behind him as pieces of the broken glass showered the boy’s back and shoulders and hair.
Thomas, clearly in a heated fit of rage, stormed to his bedroom down the hall. From the kitchen, Johnny could hear the enraged man. “I do my best by you, and this is how you treat me. No fuckin’ respect, none at all. You’re gonna learn, fag!” His voice became louder as the man came storming back into the kitchen holding a filthy pillowcase, which was covered in dried saliva stains, and God only knew what else. Johnny stared at the floor, which was covered in filth and glass, as his father charged in his direction. He felt his father’s powerful grip around his throat. Thomas slammed his son into the wall.
“What do I have to do? Why can’t you listen! Look what you make me have to fuckin’ do!” the man screamed in the horrified boy’s face. The veins in his forehead looked
like they could rupture at any moment. Johnny said not a word as he continued to look in the direction of the floor. He felt dizzy as his father’s grip became tighter.
Suddenly, the man released his son’s throat and grabbed a hand full of the boy’s hair, yanking him violently toward the back door. He kicked the door open, nearly taking it off its hinges.
Johnny was bent over, trying to keep up with his father, nearly losing his footing as the man dragged the trembling teen out the door. Finally, Johnny’s feet went out from under him and he was unable to regain his footing immediately. His father was dragging the boy behind him. Johnny could feel a popping sensation on the top of his scalp as he was being pulled like a sack of potatoes across the trashy yard. Johnny desperately tried to find his footing again, but then they were at the chicken coop. His father threw the boy to the ground, and Johnny’s face hit the dirt hard. As the dazed boy rose to his hands and knees, his father unlatched the coop door and flung it open.
The chickens inside clucked and flew about. Several of them exited the building from the opening to the outside enclosure. Thomas reached down to the frightened pup, which hadn’t moved from the spot where Johnny had left her, and violently grabbed the dog by her loose hide. The confused puppy began to yelp in pain and terror.
As Johnny looked up at the scene, he could no longer contain his nerves and began vomiting the only decent nutrition he had had that day. He watched as his father shoved the frightened puppy into the disgusting pillowcase and heaved it over his shoulder.
“Get up, you pantywaist!” the man yelled at Johnny.
The boy rose to his feet as quickly as he could.
Thomas grabbed him by the back of the neck and began leading him forcefully in the direction of the truck.
Johnny was absolutely horrified at what his father might do to the innocent puppy. As they approached the truck, Thomas shoved the boy hard to the passenger door.
“Get in, faggot!” the man said as Johnny scrambled for the handle. Thomas then tied the top of the pillowcase in a knot so the pup couldn’t escape, and then threw the pillowcase in the back of the truck rather forcefully. The pup let out a yelp, and then was quiet.
Johnny still felt quite nauseated as he climbed in the passenger seat, but he had nothing left in his stomach to expel. His heart was racing so fast he felt it could explode.
His father jumped in the driver’s side and started the old truck. Throwing it in drive, he went speeding through the yard like a mad man. As he flew by the chicken coop, he spun out attempting to turn the truck around. The pillowcase hit the side of the truck bed with a sickening thud. The belligerent motorman finally got the truck straightened out as he tore off through the yard toward the dirt road. Johnny knew exactly where they were going. He was going to the pond about a half a mile up the road from the house.
Johnny desperately wanted to beg for the puppy to be spared, but he was too frightened. He had urinated himself, and he knew as soon as his father saw his wet clothes, it would only get worse. As the truck approached the pond, Thomas slammed on the brakes, sending Johnny’s face slamming into the dash and bloodying his nose. The pillowcase, and its unconscious contents, slammed into the front of the truck bed as the truck came to a screeching halt, cascading the scene in a cloud of dust. The man looked at his shaking son. “That’s a nice sound, ain’t it, fag?” he said in a deep, horrific tone as Johnny bled uncontrollably.
“Get the fuck out!” the man yelled at the boy. Johnny was shaking profusely as he exited the vehicle. Thomas left his truck running and parked in the middle of the road as he grabbed the pillowcase from the truck bed. There was no sign of life from the puppy, and Johnny hoped she had died from the force of hitting the metal truck bed.
“Get walkin’, asshole!” Thomas yelled as Johnny headed in the direction of the pond. Thomas raised his foot and kicked the boy in the rear, nearly knocking him down. The pond was shallow, and only about one hundred feet from the road.
“I swear to God if I get ate up by those damn mosquitoes because of you, you’re gonna pay!” the man yelled at Johnny. As they approached the still body of water, his father grabbed him by the hair on the top of his head and yanked him backward.
Johnny let out sharp cry as his neck popped from being yanked so violently, his nose still bleeding. The man then held the pillowcase out, insinuating that he wanted Johnny to take it.
“You did this to yourself. You killed this pup. Just you remember that, ya pussy,” his father said in a cruel, low voice.
Johnny, trembling, grabbed the pillowcase from his father, just as there was a slight movement from inside.
“Please,” Johnny muttered as the blood cascaded from his nose, down his face and off his chin to his clothes and shoes.
“Boy!” his father yelled at Johnny as he bowed up to him. Johnny turned from his father as the puppy began to whine quietly, he inhaled deeply, closed his eyes, and tossed the pillowcase through the air. As it landed about ten feet off the bank, it made a loud splash and sank quickly.
“You sure do throw like a girly fag,” the man said with a maniacal smile, as he watched the entire event in pure and utter delight.
Johnny stood staring at the pond as the ripples continued to make their way to the outer edge of the bank. The bullfrogs and insects had all momentarily halted their nightly serenade, as if they were honoring the fallen pup.
“You know what’s happening when we get home, don’t cha boy?” his father asked, as once again he grabbed the back of his son’s neck, but this time he leaned in closely. “I hate fags in my truck. You got five fuckin’ minutes to be in your room, you better get to running.”
Johnny awoke from his sleep. Without even attempting to analyze or process, the boy jumped out of his bed and ran for his bedroom door. Part of him knew he was indoors, but his mind was still there—with his father, and he knew he had to get away from the pond, and back to his father’s house. As Johnny burst into the hallway, he ran head-on into the wall directly across from his door with a force so hard it knocked him backward, flat on his back. As he rose to his feet in the pitch black hallway, he ran in the direction of the stairs. As the boy grabbed the railing, he lost his footing on the second step, and tumbled all the way down the stairs, hitting his head hard at the end of the staircase on the wood flooring.
“Stay here! If anything happens, call the police!” He heard Jackson yell out from the master bedroom, but he didn’t immediately recognize the man’s voice. Johnny raced to the front door as he saw Jackson enter the living room behind him, but it was too late. Johnny had managed to get the front door open, and was now sprinting down the driveway in a delusional race against time.
“Graye! It’s Johnny! Something’s wrong!” Johnny heard Jackson yell out as the raced out the front door after the boy.
“JOHNNY!”
Johnny could hear Jackson’s voice, but at this point, nothing made sense, he only knew he needed to get past the pond and to his room.
“JOHNNY!” he heard the man yell again. This time the voice was closer; Johnny knew he was being pursued. As he reached the road, he plunged even further into the chaotic confusion. He understood he needed to get to his father’s house, yet he had no idea which way to go. The boy’s lungs burned from the stagnant air and his body ached from the fall. He looked back and forth down the road, simply standing still, unsure of what direction he should take.
Total fear had overtaken any rational sense the boy might have had. He placed both hands on either side of his head and squeezed. “Where? Where is it!” the boy cried out in between breaths as Jackson ran up behind him.
“Johnny! What’s wrong?” Johnny heard the man cry out as he hit his knees and covered his head with his hands in a fetal position.
“I can’t find it! I’m sorry! I don’t know where it’s at! I can’t find it! Please! I’m sorry!” the boy yelled out repeatedly. He made no effort to look at Jackson’s face. He focused on the man’s feet while attempting to cover
the back of his head just in anticipation of being beaten. The boy then heard the familiarity of Graye’s voice approach as the woman screamed out.
“Jackson! Johnny! What is wrong? Johnny turned to see the bottom half of her nightgown approaching him.
“Jackson! What is it?” the woman cried out.
“Johnny. Johnny, look at me,” Johnny heard Jackson demand of him as he felt the man place his hand on his back. Johnny recognized Jackson’s familiar voice and looked up at him, as Graye stood behind him, shocked and confused. Johnny lunged at Jackson, grabbing his shoulders in pure terror.
“Johnny, what is going on? What happened?” Jackson asked as he placed his hands on either side of the boy’s head.
“He’s here!” Johnny yelled out as his gaze danced about the country backroad looking for his father.
“Who? Who is here, Johnny?” Jackson demanded again.
“Johnny, sweetie, who is here? Your father?” Graye asked as she kneeled down and began rubbing Johnny’s back.
“Is he here?” Johnny asked as he heard his own voice begin to crack. He looked at both Graye and Jackson, waiting for an answer.
“No, bud. No one is here. No one is here but us,” Jackson said.
Johnny felt himself shaking violently and his clothing was soaked in urine.
“You’re okay, sweetheart.” Graye’s words were only slightly reassuring as she continued to rub his back.
“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry.” The boy began to sob. “I saw him at the pond, we were just at the pond,” Johnny proclaimed with absolute certainty.
“Bud, the only pond is miles from here. You’re safe. No one is going to hurt you here,” Jackson said as Johnny looked to him and Graye. He noticed the woman had tears in her eyes.
“I don’t understand. He was just here. He was just fucking here!” Johnny wailed as he began to cry harder. “My head! My mind ain’t right!” the boy cried out. He the felt Graye touch a tender goose egg on the back of his head. It shot pain through the back of his skull and up into the side of his face.
