1 Chapter 1

1

Guy slipped into the alley, staying in the shadows, searching to be certain he was the only one there. After a moment he moved farther in, coming to a sudden halt when he heard movement a few yards ahead of him, on the far side of a large Dumpster.

Please, please let it be a rat or…or something. He was still recovering physically and emotionally from the beating he’d gotten from his father and didn’t want to become the target of punks who got off on hurting people who lived on the streets. That happened too often these days when so many people took their rage at the pandemic out on those who had fallen between the cracks.

Like me, now, because there’s no wayI’m going back home. Next time he’ll kill me. All because he won’t accept I’m not what he wanted in a son.

He was lucky, he supposed, that he’d been able to avoid the punks, so far. Not his father’s rage though. He’d managed to stuff a few changes of clothes and some necessities, like his sketchpads and pencils and a couple of extra masks, into his backpack and had almost made it out of the house before his father caught him and bodily threw him into the backyard, telling him never to show his ‘pussyass’ face in the neighborhood again.

That had been his father’s derogatory name for him because even at eighteen Guy was slender enough he obviously wasn’t a jock—at least according to his father. What really pissed him off was the fact that Guy wasn’t interested in sports and other such ‘manly’ pursuits like cars and girls. Instead, when he came home from school, he would go to his room where he spent his time reading, writing, and drawing—even more so when the high school went to remote learning because of the pandemic.

“No real man does crap like that,” his father had told him more than once. “And get a damned haircut,” he’d add angrily, because Guy wore it longer than his father liked.

“It’s not that bad,” Guy would protest, which was the truth. It just wasn’t a buzz cut like his father’s.

Well, it is now. He ran his hand over his head and shuddered.

That had happened when his father had returned from a business trip almost a week ago. He was in a foul mood because he hadn’t made as many sales as his boss had expected—and had gotten a dressing down from the man as a result. At least that’s what Guy had overheard him tell his mother, ranting about how unfair it had been.

When Guy came downstairs for dinner that evening his father had taken one look at him and ordered “Get your ass to the barber in the morning. And don’t give me any sass about it’s not being safe because of Covid. We all know it’s no worse than the flu.”

Taking a deep breath, Guy shook his head. “It’s my hair. I can wear it the way I want.”

His father’s reply had been a brutal slap, which made Guy’s mother gasp in dismay, before he grabbed Guy’s arm and marched him up to the bathroom.

“Sit your pussyass down,” he said, pointing to the toilet seat before getting the scissors from the cabinet.

When Guy tried to escape, his father had backhanded him so hard he fell to his knees. Yanking him to his feet, his father forced him to sit and then proceeded to cut his hair close to his scalp.

“Clean up that mess,” he ordered when he’d finished, meaning the hair littering the bathroom. When Guy didn’t move fast enough to suit him, he hit him again. That seemed to release all the anger he felt toward his boss, Guy, and the world in general. The ensuing beating had left Guy sobbing in pain, which further infuriated his father. Dragging him to his bedroom, he ordered him not to leave until he apologized for not being man enough to take a few well-deserved punches

Instead, Guy had packed what he could and then tried to sneak out of the house while his parents were in the dining room. His father had seen him and physically made certain he left. Scrambling to his feet when he landed on his ass in the backyard, Guy limped away, his father’s angry words echoing behind him.

“And here I am,” Guy said under his breath, four days later, as he waited for whoever had made the noise he’d heard to show themselves. When they didn’t, he crept closer to the Dumpster, ready to run if necessary. As he reached it, he heard a low growl and froze. It’s only a dog. But still…What if it’s a big one, trying to defend its territory? Not an idea he liked, but not a scary as the thought it could have been punks waiting to waylay him.