Keith sighed and slugged his matted bag over his shoulder, shoving his hands into his jacket as he sauntered out the school building to begin the long trek home. He didn’t drive, and even if he could, he wouldn’t have been able to afford a car, so he walked. There was always the bus, but public transport just didn’t seem to agree with him, especially when people like Jason were sat behind him, so walking it was.

After the events in English, Keith didn’t even bother to attend his last two classes for the day. He knew his teachers would give him grief next week, but, he really couldn’t have cared less at that moment. Over the last few years, Keith’s attendance had dropped dramatically and his usual high results plunged below average. Aside from English, he had lost all enthusiasm for school, and, it wasn’t as if most his teachers really took notice of his absence so missing his lessons wasn’t such an inconvenience for the boy.

It had been a little over an hour since he had set off when he stopped outside the deteriorating house he called ‘home’. He gazed at the dead grass, the molding window frames, and broken fence and sighed as he dragged his feet across the pavement and up the creaking stairs to the front porch. He got his key out from his pocket and held his breath as he quietly opened the door and stepped inside. 

“Keith?”

Keith froze in the front entrance for a few moments before he shut the door with a soft click, his hands shaking slightly in anticipation. “Yeah dad, just me.” he crept into the front lounge room where his father sat and gulped as he stared at the empty beer bottles scattering the floor, clenching the straps of his bag. This couldn’t be good. He moved forward into his father’s view and began nervously fiddling with his hair as he usually did. 

This father looked up and scoffed, sitting forward in his chair. “Why haven’t you cut that fucking hair yet? You look like a goddamn girl.” Keith quickly dropped his hand and looked down at the floor, embarrassment colouring his soft cheeks. “No wonder you don’t have any friends, you bring it on yourself boy, walking around, looking like that.” His father snorted, moving to take another sip of his drink before standing up, the chair groaning as it supported his father’s weight. “I’m going out. Whilst I’m gone, you better clean this shit up. Understood?” His father grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair and Keith nodded, moving out the way as the older man staggered past him, out the room and toward the front door.

“Yes sir.” Keith said, bowing his head as he heard his father groan in reply before the rotting door opened, then slammed shut, causing the whole house to shake under the force.

A small breath of relief-Keith didn’t realise he was holding-escaped him, his body shakes seizing, the tension dispersed as his father left the house. The comments stung Keith, but he had heard them enough over the years that they didn’t’ affect him on such a large scale anymore. He took a deep, shaky breath and studied the mess that covered the floor. Beer bottles, bottle caps, pizza boxes and papers, there was crap everywhere, just like there always was when Keith returned from school. He moved over to the small dingy kitchen and grabbed a garbage bag out from the under the sink before he sighed and began his daily cleaning routine.

His father wasn’t all bad, only when he was drunk, which just happened to be all the time. He was constantly making comments like that to Keith, sometimes worse and much more offensive, but he never got violent. He had never moved to lay a hand on Keith. Had never slapped or shoved, just spoke to him like absolute crap, but, Keith could handle that. When his father wasn’t drunk, he tended to stay away from Keith. He mainly sat out on the grim porch or watched TV in the living room and didn’t speak at all. But, in all honestly, Keith think he preferred the rude comments as opposed to the silent treatment he was given. His father could be a complete and utter asshole, but, he was still Keith’s dad and he still cared for him, still sought his praise and approval.

It wasn’t always like this though. 

When Keith was young, his dad never drank, – barely knew what alcohol was – his mum was still with them, and they were happy. Keith’s mum used to help him learn the alphabet before he started school, and his dad used to take him to football games and play catch with him outside, it was perfect. That was until Keith’s dad eventually discover the glorious effects that alcohol could have. 

Keith couldn’t remember everything since he was still so young, but, he could remember how his dad stopped spending time with him, the disgusting stench that stung his breath and the screaming he heard emitting from his parent’s room on a daily basis. It was horrible. Keith use to cry silently in his room and tremble viciously as he cuddled with his favourite stuffed animal. He hid under thin sheets, which he used in a vain attempt to block out the vulgar noises and prayed for silence. This ordeal continued on for a few years until Keith’s mum just up and left without warning, and, without him.

He remembered returning home from his first day of school, excited to tell his parents all about the things he had learned and a certain friend he had made. But, when he had run through the front door, his smile fell as he noticed how dark and empty the house appeared. He found his father in the kitchen, a half-empty bottle in his hand, slumped over the counter. He remembered asking where his mother was and cried hysterically when his father began yelling, explaining that their mother was gone, and it was all Keith’s fault. 

The memory still hurt, but, the thought that his mum didn’t love him enough to take him with her stung a whole lot worse and had left an unfillable hole in his chest. Keith felt a tear slip down his cheek and groaned, wiping his eyes profusely, hating himself for getting so upset. He had to get over it and accept that this was his life now as much as it pained him to do so.

He shoved the unwanted thoughts away with a soft grunt and carried on with the cleaning. He gathered the rubbish, swept and mopped the sticky floors and straightened the furniture before washing the dirty dishes that had accumulated in the sink. It didn’t take long for Keith to finish. Running mainly on instinct, he cleaned quickly and made sure to take the rubbish outside to the bins and place the broom and mop away before he trudged upstairs to his room, bag in tow.

He closed the door behind him and slumped down on the bed with a loud groan of relief, happy he could finally relax. He was glad his father left the house earlier than usual today, though, Keith doubted his father even realised how early it was. He usually left as soon as Keith arrived home after school, which was normally a lot later, but, he never kept up with Keith’s education anymore. He doubted his father even realised he was in his last year of High School.

Keith grabbed his lumpy pillow and curled up with a soft sigh as he closed his eyes, letting himself relax for the first time all day. He was just drifting off to sleep when he heard his phone vibrate in his bag. “Seriously?” he groaned, rolling himself to the edge of the bed and reaching down to grab his phone. He bit his lip as the screen flickered on and swore under his breath.

Sam (02:53PM): Why weren’t you in Social Studies? You better not have gone home again. 

Sam.