The wailing of an ambulance siren echoed through Oliver’s head as he forced his eyes open. The bright florescent lights overhead blinded him. A shadow loomed over Oliver, relieving his eyes of the bright light momentarily. Suddenly his heart raced. Where was he? How’d he get here? He tried to sit up only to be blindsided by an agonizing pain in his abdomen. “Take it easy, kid.” A calm voice spoke to him. A paramedic he assumed. Oliver stared up at the figure, a face shadowed by the bright light, before he slipped back into unconsciousness.
The day had started out as any other day in the life of Oliver Mathews. He woke up at 6:00 o’clock sharp. By 6:10 he was already downstairs packing his lunch. It wasn’t anything special, just a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and some potato chips thrown into a paper lunch bag. It was all he really needed. He quickly shoved his lunch bag into his backpack before he headed towards the front door and finally stepped outside into the cool, autumn morning.
Oliver’s home was an old farmhouse that sat amongst acres and acres of old crop land. Now the once ripe wheat fields were abandoned and overgrown with all sorts of weeds. The once beautiful and lively farmhouse was now dull with more wood than paint on the outer walls. It definitely wasn’t the sort of home someone would be proud of. It was certainly missing a sort of feminine touch. Oliver’s mother had passed away when he was an infant. It was sudden, unexpected and altered the course of Oliver’s life forever. Ever since the incident Oliver’s father seemed to grow more and more loathing of the world. He became a bitter man who seemed to hate just about anything that moved and the only thing he loved more than drinking was abusing his son.
Oliver approached the end of his gravel driveway, the rocks crunching under his shoes as he walked. Then there was a sound of a second set of foot steps. Oliver glanced up from the ground only to spot another boy heading off to school. The boy was none other than his neighbor, Michael. Michael had moved here recently with his single mother. They had spoken a few times but it was mostly Michael doing all the talking. Other kids normally got on Oliver’s nerves. It wasn’t that Michael didn’t tick him off sometimes, but it was the fact that he did it in such a stupid manner that Oliver couldn’t possibly stay mad at him for long.
“Hey Ollie!” Michael called out as they both came to stop where their two driveways met the mainroad.
“Hey Michael.” Oliver replied, smiling at his friend.
The bus pulled up a few minutes later and the boys were off to school.

~*~

The school day slowly ticked by. All of Oliver’s classes were uneventful. The only significant event that had occurred was when he and Michael had goofed off during a free period, instead of studying, which some how lead to Michael doing a backflip off of one of the teacher’s cars. Needless to say the stunt ended horribly and Michael may have a concussion, but it was hilarious to say in the least.
“So, are we still planning on working on that packet tonight?” Michael asked as he and Oliver sat down on the bus together.
“We can if you want to.” Oliver said. “I’ll need to go home first though, I left my binder at home today.” Mentally, Oliver kicked himself. He knew that if he set foot in his house while his father was home he wouldn’t be allowed to leave.
“How about we meet up at my place? Around six?” Michael suggested. “We can order pizza.”
“As long as there’s pizza.” Oliver laughed softly. “Six should work for me.”
The bus came to a stop in front of their driveways and the boys stepped off the bus into the cool autumn air. The two of them part ways for the time being. Oliver slowly walked down his driveway. He dreaded having to come home everyday. His father’s car was parked in its usual spot in the driveway, the house dark other than the light of the TV on in the bonus room. Oliver silently prayed that his dad had fallen into an alcohol induced sleep and wouldn’t wake up until the morning.
Oliver pushed open the front door to his home and cautiously crept inside. The TV was on a sports channel, blaring news about some football team Oliver didn’t care about. His father’s recliner seemed occupied at the moment. His suspicions were confirmed as a large hand reached over and picked up a half empty beer bottle from the coffee table. Oliver let out a shaky breath before he silently crept upstairs to his room.
Oliver set his backpack down on his bed. He briskly walked over to his desk and grabbed his missing binder from one of the lower drawers. “Gotcha…” Oliver muttered under his breath as he pulled out the worksheet he needed. He carried the worksheet over to his bag so he could grab a pencil. Oliver felt his heart drop as he suddenly became aware of how quiet the house had become. The TV had been turned off downstairs. Next came the unsteady footsteps of his drunken father making his way up the stairs. “Oliver~” Oliver felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as his father’s raspy voice called his name up the stairs in an almost teasing manner.
He was trapped. That was the first thing that came to Oliver’s mind. He couldn’t run past his dad and he certainly couldn’t jump out his window. He could lock the door and threaten to call the cops, that at least worked last time. Oliver’s door knob turned just before he had time to lock it. The door slowly swung open, creaking loudly as it did so, revealing Oliver’s father, beer bottle in hand. “I didn’t hear you come in, son..”

~*~

6:00 o’clock rolled around with still no sign of Oliver. Michael groaned in frustration and leaned back in his desk chair. Oliver was never late. That kid had been on time to all of his classes all year, with the exception of his ‘sick days’. Michael had been aware of the situation between Oliver and his dad for a few months now. He and Oliver had only talked about it a few times, mostly because Oliver would end up changing the subject. “You’re probably worried for no reason, Michael..” Michael muttered to himself as he stared at his ceiling. “His dad probably wouldn’t let him leave…” He muttered as he checked his phone for the thousandth time that night. It was still very strange that Oliver hadn’t sent an apologetic text. “I’ll just run over real quick…” Michael decided aloud. “Just to see if he’s okay.” He stood and practically sprinted outside, only pausing a moment to tell his mom where he was going.
Michael jogged to Oliver’s house, reaching it in no time. He stood on the front porch in front of the door, mustering up some gusto before he raised his hand to knock on the door. Just before his knuckles struck the wood, a gunshot ripped apart the calm of the night. “Oliver?!” Michael yelled. He quickly opened the door, thank God it was unlocked. The house was a mess inside. Beer bottles littered the floor along with all sorts of trash. Ashtrays littered the surface of nearly every piece of furniture in the house. What was most disturbing was the blood splatter on the stairs and the pool at the bottom. The house was eerily quiet as well. “O-Oliver?” Michael called out again, slowly making his way through the living room, towards the kitchen. He covered his mouth as he saw a small hand lying just inside the doorway of the kitchen. Oliver. He rushed to Oliver’s side, holding the boy’s head in his lap. “Oh God..” He muttered, looking over his friend. Large shards of glass that strikingly resembled the glass from a bottle stuck out of the boy’s gut. His left arm was bent in an angle that it shouldn’t have been and he was bleeding profusely from his nose. Michael shook his head as he slowly recovered from the shock of seeing his friend in such a state and dialed 911 immediately. Only then did he see the body of Oliver’s father in the corner, a bullet hole right between his eyes.

~*~

The distant beeping of a heart monitor dragged Oliver back into the conscious world. He opened his eyes to see the plain white ceiling of a hospital. As he looked around he noticed a few ‘Get Well’ cards on the small table beside his bed. Then the door to his room slowly swung open, revealing a nurse accompanied by Michael and his mother. “Ollie! Oh you’re awake!” Michael said, his eyes lighting up with glee. He flew to Oliver’s bedside, throwing his arms around his injured friend. “I was so worried..” Michael whispered.
“Michael that sounds really gay..” Oliver commented, hugging Michael back with his good arm. Michael slowly pulled away, laughing softly at Oliver’s comment.
“So, did you ever find that worksheet?”