Blood coated his trembling hand. He
couldn't quite comprehend how much
blood! His nose throbbed and he knew it
was broken once again. Would it be
straight now, or even more crooked?
Somewhere in the distance his Mom
screamed his name, sounding far away,
like a cat stuck down a well. There was
no more red mist, just tear-blurred
vision from the pain. He struggled to
his feet, cupping his bleeding and
broken nose, and ran out of the kitchen.
He bounded up the stairs two at a time,
not slowing as he reached the top.
Had the bedroom door not been slightly
ajar as he shoulder-charged it, he would
probably have smashed clean through.
Instead it cannoned open, cracking in
protest as the round brass handle
punched a hole through the drywall like
an abusive stepfather.
Staggering out of the kitchen after him
in stunned confusion, his Mom looked up
the stairs, unable to organize and voice
a single thought. Andy slammed the door
closed, shutting out her pitying gaze,
and pushed the deadbolt home before
falling back against his closet and
sliding down to the floor. With his face
buried in his hands, careful not to
touch his nose, he began to sob.
How had it all gone so wrong in such a
short time? Barely moments ago, he
walked into the kitchen after a
momentous day at school, a wide smile
advertising the fact he had exciting
news to share. Now he was locked in his
room, blood and tears streaming down his
face.
