When the World Falls Apart

The punch was no surprise to a certain Antonio "Racetrack" Higgins. He was used to being smacked around, it was simply a part of life to him, nothing special, just how the world worked. If he broke a dish: smack. If he burnt some toast: smack. If he was to loud: smack. If he was too quiet: smack. Sometimes it wasn't for anything, just because Gennero Higgins had had a bad day at work - though Race wasn't really sure if dealing and pimping could be considered a job - he would get a smack.

Sometimes it was left at that, just a painful hit to the head, and then back to normal business. But sometimes, when his father had had a bad day, or was more drunk than most people could think humanly possible, it wouldn't stop for what seemed to be hours. Hit after hit would strike Race's small frame, and at first he might defend himself, fight back or try to run, but it never seemed to work. He would always eventually be dragged down - fighting tooth and nail mind you, he wasn't one to give in without a fight - and then all he was ever able to do would be to cover his head and curl into the fetal position as punches turned to kicks and angry grumbles turned to almost inhuman sounding howl of accusations.

Today was different though. The look in his father's eyes was one that Racetrack had never seen before, it wasn't the usual angry coals still hot from a red hot fire, it was the fire. Gennero's eyes were burning like a star that was about to supernova. Race's heart seemed to gallop like a horse that had just been let out of its starting stall, before it seemed to stop in his chest. His father was holding up the one thing he had been stupid enough to keep in the house that even slightly displayed his sexuality. It was an old porno mag, which he had hidden in an old school binder on a bookshelf he had in his room, thinking that there was no way that his father would ever look there. He didn't have a fucking clue why his father would be looking through his old school shit, but he didn't have time to think about it before the first punch sent him reeling backwards.

"Ya little queer! I won't have a goddamn ass digging fag for a son!" His father spat each word like it caused him physical pain, spraying his son's face with spittle, before he pulled his fist back second hit was worse than the first, making his head feel like it was being split in two slowly and painfully by a blunt ax as hit after hit assaulted his cranium. He kicked his legs wildly, trying to get his father off, and managed to nail the larger man with a hit to the stomach. He tripped over his own feet as he scrambled up and backwards, before turning tail and running as fast as his feet would carry him away from the madman still screaming obscenities at him as he ran after his terrified son. Race's hand was on the doorknob, and he was about to throw himself out of his shitty little house in southeastern manhattan when his father grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him back so fast that he choked as the collar pulled around his neck. His father's hands moved from his shirt to the back of his neck, and he smacked Race's head into the wall to the left of the door, bringing a scream of pain out of his son. The impact caused Racetrack to slip down the wall as he tried to gather his thoughts after the impact of head against wall, but before he managed to gather his thoughts, he felt a kick to his stomach, knocking the wind out of him, and by the feel of it, cracking a rib. He looked up at the man who had raised him for the last 17 years of his life, and saw nothing but hatred. He hadn't loved his father in the entirety of his living memory, but he had never felt truly hated by the man. Disliked, yes. Unwanted, definitely. But never outright hated. But the way he was looking at him now, Race was sure that his father could kill him and not bat an eye about it. He looked right at his older counterpart, whose face was read with anger, and almost in slow motion, he saw the fist come back, then rocket towards him with intent, and he did what any scared 17 year old would do. He screamed.

He screamed until his throat was raw and the screams wouldn't come anymore, he screamed like he had never screamed before, calling for help from anyone, but even then the hit's to his body didn't stop, again and again he received blow after blow until suddenly he heard the sound of a door busting open, and someone shouting. He stayed conscious just long enough to feel the relief of his father being pulled off of him, before letting the pain take over, and letting everything go black.

When Race woke up, his mouth felt like it was filled with cotton balls, his head hurt like a motherfucker, and he felt like he was about to throw up. He had just enough time to turn onto his side before he upchucked, the puke luckily ending up on the floor, instead of in the bed with him. He groaned and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes, rubbing away the sleep, and proceeded to survey his surroundings. He appeared to be in a hospital, he shared a room with an empty bed, but someone clearly was staying there, as there were pictures put up on the walls nearby. Besides the few pictures, the walls were pretty clear, there was some sort of box near the door that seemed to hold medical supplies. He closed his eyes tight for a second, trying to clear his head, before surveying his own body. He had what appeared to be a brace on his left leg, and he could feel tight bandages around his ribcage when he took a deep breath. He sighed and leaned back onto the pillow. So that really had happened, it hadn't been some sort of crazy fucked up dream that his subconscious had created to scare the living hell out of him. What was he supposed to do now? He wouldn't be able to go back to his father, but maybe he would be able to sneak into the house while the old man was on a drug run and grab some money and clothes. But where would he go? He didn't know of any other family to take him in, his mom had died when he was barely 9, and she had no siblings he knew of. He didn't have any friends with good enough home lives that he could stay with them.

To be honest he didn't have many friends at all, just two whom he had known sense he had been in diapers, David and 'Blink'. It wasn't that David came from a bad family, Esther was a sweet amazing Jewish mother who doted on David and his friends, but they had their own problems, the Jacobs were dirt poor with three children and a father who was on disability due to a work related incident, which didn't pay as well as they had hoped it would. And Blink, well, ever sense his mother had caused the car crash that killed her husband and daughter and blinded her son in one eye, she had been... Well... Off. Like she would talk to people who weren't there, set 4 table places instead of two, and when her son would say anything about his father and sister in the past tense she would freak out.

So where was he supposed to go? Surprisingly enough for someone in his town, he hadn't dropped out of school yet, he assumed it was probably because of David, who was kinda like a Jewish mother himself to Blink and Race. Now there seemed to be no choice but to drop out of school if he was going to work enough to get a place to live. Then again, all he had was a shitty part time job at a grocery store, and who was going to hire a 17 year old beaten up kid full time.

He thought back to the last thing he remembered before blacking out, trying to draw details from the foggy pain filled memory. A door breaking open, a shout, someone grabbing his father. He tried to pull some details about the man who saved him, but nothing would come to him, except that the man seemed to be wearing some type of uniform. He thought about that for a minute before it clicked in his head. Hospital, uniform, someone actually caring enough to help him. The man must have been a police officer, which certainly changed things. Even if he felt like an old soul, he was in fact still under the age of 18, and if a cop had walked in while his father was in the process of beating the shit out of his own son, then his father must be going to jail, and he would be going into foster care. Well, shit.

Well Hi there! Zoi here, and this is my first ever story, so I hope that you like it. Reviews are totally welcome, and I accept criticism, but don't be a dick about it. As the story progresses it would be great to get some comments about what you would like to happen, because I, like most writers, get a shit ton of writer's block after the first few chapters. Anyway, Read and Review my friends! (Especially the reviewing part!)