Desperate Dude
He could already taste the crimson metallic taste of his own blood. But he would be damned if he was going to show this wimp any weakness.
?That all ya got, you wimp.? He sneered. BAM! The steel toe of Jerry?s boot connected with his midsection. He went on all fours clutching his midsection. He could still breath, painfully, but he could still breath. Good, nothing pierced his lungs. Jackson Smith was only 11 years old but he?d already been in more fights for his life than any adult. Most of those fights were with Jerry; his mom?s piece of crap boyfriend. Jackson looked up, blood trickling from his mouth. Jackson did the one thing he knew would get Jerry?s goat: he smiled.
?Come on, you can do better than that.? He said standing back up. Jerry swung and connected again, followed by a stiff punch to Jackson?s jaw. He crumpled to the floor and laid there staring at the ceiling of his mom?s apartment. He?d had worse from Jerry but it didn?t matter. All that mattered was that Jerry wasn?t hitting his mom. She had met this wimp when he was eight. Jerry was all wine and roses and smiles when he met him, but then Jerry started drinking and stayed drunk, violently drunk for 3 long years. At first, Jerry took his rage out on his mother. Jackson would lie awake at night hearing his mom?s screams, waiting for the cops to come. Knowing, some neighbor would call and report. The chickensh!t neighbor?s never called and the police never came. After a year, Jackson couldn?t take it anymore and stood up to Jerry; that was when Jerry switched from his mother to Jackson. He didn?t care; Jackson got tough quick and took the beatings, just as long as Jerry wasn?t beating his mother. Jackson would fight back as best he could. Jerry was 6? and Jackson was only 5?; not much a boy can do to a full grown man, even if that man was a drunk piece of crap. In the 2 years that Jackson was Jerry?s punching bag, Jackson was only able to claim one victory over this man. Jerry never broke him. Every punch, every beating was only met with defiance and ridicule. That?s what angered Jerry more than anything, he couldn?t crush Jackson wholly. But, he was going to try.
?Had enough Jackson??
?They call me Jax.? He was still staring at the ceiling.
?What?s that, I didn?t hear you.? He walked over to the fridge and opened a beer.
Jax propped himself up onto his elbows. ?I said, they call me Jax.?
?I could care less Jackson. Where?s your mom at??
?I don?t know, isn?t my day to keep up with her.?
?You got a smart mouth you little turd.?
?Yeah and you got a weak punch, you wimp. In an even fight, I could take you.?
Jerry threw his beer can at him, it bounced off his leg. It hurt, but Jax would be damned if he was going to show pain.
?Ah, h@ll that was my last beer. I?m going out.? And with that he was gone. Jax just laid back down on the cool tile.
?Freaking wimp.?
Later that night Jackson was cleaning his wounds. A little iodine, he just dealt with the sting.
?He?ll get his some day.? He thought to himself. His mom was in the main room. She didn?t say anything when she got home, she never did. The phone rang and he heard her pick it up.
?What!? was all he heard her say, then he heard her rush toward the bathroom. The next words out of her mouth was the greatest thing he ever heard anyone say.
?Jerry?s been arrested. He stabbed a guy tonight. What are we going to do. I got to get down to the jail? She went into the other room to change. Jackson sat down on the toilet and had himself the longest, loudest, and most heartfelt laugh he ever had in a long time.
