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Stanley Barber didn't have a happy, ordinary life. In fact, he doesn't know if he could ever experience the simple pleasures that most children should experience.
When he was six, his mother abandoned him and his father. He never understood why, but one day, she wished him good night after dinner and the next day, all her things had disappeared from his home.
Since then, his father has been different. It is a fact that his father was never a patient person, but his mother was always there to control him, but after she left, everything changed.
Stan didn't understand what was happening at first, he was just a kid at that moment, but later, he finally understood that what his father was doing was wrong.
For some reason, his father was always angry with him, blaming him for his mother leaving, yelling at him to get beers, and pointing out every little mistake Stan made. He was getting more and more violent, and he was drinking more and more.
Two months later, they moved to a small town in the countryside, but nothing changed. The first time his father hit Stan, he was very drunk. Stan had arrived late from school that day, and his father was not happy.
Since then, his life has been hell, he can't wait to turn eighteen and finally be able to run away from this bastard. But on other way, Stan doesn't want to leave him...
His father is the only family he has left, and whether he wants to or not, is his father, and he didn't send him out the minute his mother abandoned them. Stan knows he's silly, but he still has the hope that his father, somewhere in his hardened heart, still cares about him and can finally love him.
It's a little ray of hope, which will probably never come true, but he must hold on to it, or he thinks he can go crazy.
The rain beat softly in the windshield, and Stan shuddered, his eyes burning in tears as he thought of his father's reaction to seeing the car. Trying to think of positive things and not how his dad will punish him for crashing the car.
Syd.
Stan really liked Syd, she was beautiful, smart, funny, a little crazy and made him smile despite his shitty life. She seemed to be filled with her own problems, but still managed to conserve some happiness, even if small.
Their lives were quite different, Syd's father killed himself last year, leaving her with her mother and brother, but at least Syd’s mother was reasonable and never touched a finger on the girl in the same way as Stan's father. Unlike Stan, who his mother abandoned, leaving him with an abusive father. Wonderful...
He sighed. It wasn't her fault. Stan expected Syd to open to him, but after tonight, Stan doesn’t even know if she’d ever talk to him again.
Stan’s clothes were still soaked with rain, his hair dripping with drops of water every few seconds. His fingers were tightly fastened on the steering wheel, his hands sweaty. He thought about what happened just a few minutes ago.
Syd felled the trees in a circle around her in a cry of rage. That couldn't be real, but he knew it was, having seen it with his own eyes.
Syd had superpowers! OK, maybe not “super”, but it was still awesome and terrifying at the same time. He didn't know what to think, he just knew he had to help Syd get through whatever was distressing her.
He stopped the car in front of the house, leaning his forehead on the steering wheel for a few seconds before opening the door and leaving. The door of the house opened, his father appeared. Stan took a deep breath and contained a shudder, following his father inside.
The house smelled like beer and smoke, and something else Stan couldn't identify. His father was standing in the middle of the room, the TV sounding softly behind Stan.
Stan stopped in front of his father, looking at the floor filled with discarded cigarettes and empty bottles, not daring to find his father's eyes unless asked. He knew what would happen if he looked into the man’s eyes without permission.
“What the fuck is that?!?! What happened to my car?! I let you drive once and that's what you do?! Ungrateful brat!”
“Dad, I–”
“Shut up! Shut the fuck up! I don't want any explanations! Do you know how much money will be spent fixing the damage you've done?!” His father grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pushed him against the wall.
He looked very drunk. His face was red with anger, and any love he had had for Stan was gone a long time ago. Somewhere deep down, Stanley always knew, but never wanted to believe it, but now he’s aware, his father would never love him.
Stan sniffed, trying in vain prevent the tears in his eyes from flowing down his cheeks, this will only show weakness. A sob of fear and frustration passed through his lips when a solitary tear trickled down his chin, dripping into his father's hand.
His father looked at him in disgust, using his free hand to slap Stan on the cheek.
“Now listen carefully, kid! If you break my car one more time, you're going to get the biggest beating of your pathetic little life!”
“I'm sorry! I’m sorry! Please! A-a girl passed in front of the car and I had to swerve! I would have run her over!” Stan cried, shrinking as much as possible against the wall, tears soaking his face.
“I don't care what you have to say, kid!” Shouted his father, throwing him on the floor beside the sofa.
A bottle of beer broke, and shards of glass spread across the carpet, cutting off Stan’s hands and arms. He looked up, fear running through his veins, a tremor spreading through his body.
His father rose above him, his fists clenched on the side of his body, he approached, his face twisted with anger and hatred, his teeth grinding. He put his foot on Stan's chest, pushing him to the ground, causing more shards of glass sink into his back.
“Dad, please...” Whispered Stan, turning his watery eyes to his father, his last trace of dignity descending the drain.
The man gave a scream of anger and began kicking Stan's stomach and ribs, provoking cries of pain from the boy. When he finally stopped, Stanley was curled up in the fetal position, his knees in his chest, his arms on his head.
Mr. Barber grabbed Stan again, flinging him on the couch. Stan fell with a sigh of pain, sobs escaping from his lips, his body trembling.
“I hope this has made you learn not to BREAK MY CAR!” Yelled his father, turning toward the door.
But as he was about to turn the knob, he turned so fast that Stan screamed in terror, rolling to the ground, hurting his ribs even more.
His father approached him, grabbing him by the hair, which caused Stan to scream in pain when his father shook him.
“Do you understand?! Tell me! Did you understand, you little shit?!”
“Y... y...”
“SAY IT!”
“Yes, sir!" Stan cried, more tears streaming down his face, a pathetic sob escaping from his lips.
The man made a scoffing sound, releasing Stan, before raising his arm and hitting the fist in the boy's left eye.
For a moment, all Stan saw were stars, but after what seemed like an eternity, he opened his eyes, realizing that the sight of his left eye was blurry, and his eyelid didn’t open completely.
Releasing a groan of pain, Stan got down on his knees, looking around. His father wasn't anywhere. A sigh of relief passed over his lips and he began to crawl into the kitchen.
Stanley reached out and opened the freezer door, picking up an ice pack. Putting it on the left eye, he crawled into the basement.
His room was exactly as he had left before leaving for the party. He dragged himself down the stairs and lifted the board from the last step, revealing a box of medical supply.
Stan only needed to use the supplies from the box when his father beat him very badly, and because of the pain he felt in his chest, he needed it.
While showering, Stanley catalogued all the wounds his father inflicted on him.
Bruising on the eye?
Check.
Bruises on the stomach and ribs?
Check
Cuts on the hands, arms and back?
Check.
His whole body hurt, and Stan struggled to clean up all the cuts, the wounds burning.
After that, he dried up and began to pass ointment on the bruises and curl the cuts with bandages after passing a product to prevent inflammation.
When Stan finally put on his pajamas and lay down on the bed, it was that tears began to emerge.
He didn’t understand. How could a father do that to a son? He buried his head in the pillow and sobbed, tremors spreading through the body.
Stan couldn’t think, the sound of his father's kicks echoing in his ears, the words that he said between each blow digging imaginary slits in his chest.
"You're useless!"
"You only bring me losses!"
"It's your fault your mother abandoned me, you little shit!"
"YOU SHOULD NEVER HAVE BEEN BORN!"
The tears came until he simply stared at the ceiling inexpressively, feeling numb. Finally, his eyes became heavy and he fell asleep, thinking of the excuse he would give at school on the next day.