Switch by Douglas Davey

Author:Douglas Davey
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-55244-340-8
Publisher: Red Deer Press
Published: 2014-10-03T00:00:00+00:00

139 At this time, tattoos were still a novelty, the purview of sailors, carneys, cons, and rock stars. Now everyone has one, even me.

140 Big Red. Can you still get that?

C h a p t e r S e v e n t e e n

My parents were out, so I had the whole place to myself while I worked on my speech. For courage, at least that’s what I told myself, I had taken some vodka from the liquor cabinet. I’d planned on just taking a few pulls, then topping up the bottle with water, but before I knew it, I’d downed half.

I was sitting on the edge of my bed, holding my face in my hands. My head was spinning, not just from the alcohol, but also from the thought of what I was planning on doing. I picked up my notebook. By the light of my bedside lamp, I looked at what I’d just written.

How can I read that out loud?

It was impossible. I couldn’t do it.

But I had to. People needed to know what was happening or I’d wind up getting the crap beat out of me, just like Bill had said.

I drew a huge X over everything I’d written, then tore out the page, balled it up, and threw it across my room. Feverishly, I wrote down every angry word, every insult, every piece of frustrated hate I could think of, then tossed the entire notebook to the ground and kicked it across the room. For good measure, I stood up and kicked the bed, too, hard. It felt so good that I kicked it again, even harder this time. The bed skittered away at an angle and struck the wall. I tore away the blanket and threw it to the ground. I launched an attack on my room, scratching away at the wallpaper, tearing open my dresser drawers, ripping down posters, spilling garbage across the floor.

I stood in the middle of the wreckage, breathing heavily.

I wasn’t done yet.

I grabbed my pillow and swung it through the air. It hit the wall, bounced off, and struck my bedside lamp, which fell to the ground, sparking and flashing. The lamp went dark and the whole room dropped into shadow.

I wiped angry tears from my eyes.

An acrid odor hit my nostrils. I fumbled through my darkened room until I found the switch for the overhead light. The bare bulb flared above me and in its harsh light I could see the broken lamp laying in the middle of the destroyed remains of my room. The lamp was wrapped in a thin cloud of smoke. I took a step toward it, tripped on the mess covering my floor, and fell on my face. Dizzy from drinking, I crawled over to where it had fallen. I picked up the lamp and sat down on the edge of my bed. The shade had come away, revealing the shattered glass egg of the bulb. The lamp was still plugged in, and it made an ominous buzzing sound.

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