09-10-2008, 03:29 AM
33. Wrath
Putnar looked around the room at the things that were now his. They were things that in his old life, he would have only dreamed of having. A brand new computer, flat screen TV, a desk of polished wood, and a closet full of the most expensive brand names.
His thoughts turned back to his brother who was still living in their two room house. The brother who was living off barely two hundred dollars a month. He clenched his hand into a fist as he looked at the differences. When he had lived in the city with his brother, it was that same two hundred dollars paying for the both of him. Now that he had got himself in trouble, had to move here, his father actually acknowledged his existence with useless garbage.
He walked over to the Louisville slugger mounted on the wall. If his father had really known either of his sons, he would have known that they hated baseball. Putnars fingers tightened around the bat and he pulled it off the wall "I liked it better when you didn't care about us because we didn't live with you, but ignoring me while I'm right under your roof is something else. I'm only because it would ruin your perfect reputation if someone found out your son was in jail," He hefted the bat in his hand, testing it's weight, "Well I don't care about shallow shit like this,"
His grip tightened on the bat and he swung, knocking a desk load of computer equipment to the floor. His next swing took out the TV, and the next a lamp and clock on his side table. He was going for the window when the bat was yanked from his hand, dented and splintered.
There was his father yelling at him, a face he only knew from the oldest memories he had. Every record of him in his real family had been burned long ago. Burned with hatred for his abandonment.
Putnar didn't hear what he was yelling. Nonsense, he was sure, about how he had paid for all the useless crap that had littered the room, that Putnar had survived without all his life. Something too about how greatful he should be for all that he had given.
"Yea, now that everyone knows I'm your fuck up," Putnar said sarcastically.
He didn't see the fist coming until it hit him in the face.
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