deepundergroundpoetry.com

Countdown

Whenever I'm scared, or lonely, I just take some deep breaths. I can close my eyes and just...
Count backwards from one hundred...

'100...'

"YOU FUCKING BITCH! How could you get pregnant!?"
"It's not like this is ideal, I know..."
Quincy stared at the blocks in front of him, carefully stacking them as he pretended his parents were not fighting...

'90'

"I can't take this anymore!"
Quincy stood in the corner, watching as his father threw a bottle at his hysterical mother. Quietly the four year old boy whispered softly in the baby's ears, trying to console his little brother.

"All you ever do is fucking bitch and moan and complain!"
"Well, all you ever fucking do is drink, you worthless piece of shit! You're always out sleeping with other women."

The boy didn't even know who was yelling what at this point. The words all just sort of blended together. He sunk to the ground, pressing his back to the corner. He hushed the baby quietly and closed his own eyes. He heard his father's fist slam into something, and silence, and crying, and more yelling. He kept his eyes closed as the baby started to cry louder.

'80'

"Don't leave this room... Stay there... like a game, okay? Hide and seek..." Quincy said as he helped his three year old brother into the closet, behind the clothes. "Don't move, John, okay?" He closed the door and walked out of the room. Mom was at work, and his dad just got home. Quincy could hear him already yelling out loud, throwing things... Stumbling around.

'70'

"Hello, my name is Annie, I'm going to make sure you get taken care of."

"What about John?" The boy sat, a dirty white cast on his arm, faded bruises on his cheeks, scars up his back. It was normal for him.

"He will be okay, I'm going to make sure he get's taken care of too."

Quincy's eyes fell, and he started to cry.

'60'

Staring up at the ceiling Quin sighed and pulled his blanket up over his head. He heard footsteps, and sat up slowly as he looked at the older boy. The older boy laughed, "So, you are going to be doing all of my housework, right?" Confused, Quin furrowed his brows, which led to a punch on the shoulder. "And my homework?" The boy was bigger then him, and a grade ahead of him.

Quincy rubbed his shoulder, that was already bruising, before he nodded, giving a meek, "okay."

'50'

"Here, Johnny, lay in my bed with me, kay?" Quincy was a little worried. John had been sick for a while now... a really bad fever. His foster parents gave him this cheap medicine, but didn't think it was bad enough to take him to the doctors.

'40'

"On your knees, boy." Quincy was thirteen now. He refused, and that got him a smack, he still clenched his fists and went to hit back, but that only got him a wrestled to the ground.

"Get the fuck off of me!"

"Come on kid, do you want me to tell mommy and daddy that you were stealing from me?" Quincy grew quiet... They would get rid of him. And then he wouldn't be there to take care of John. He was in the hospital a lot. It was scary. Slowly Quin slipped to his knees. His hair was long, and hung in his face. He looked girly, and really didn't have any muscle to defend himself.

Quincy let out a shaky sigh, shuttering as he heard the zipper come down.

'30'

Leaning against the bricks of the high school building, Quincy lifted a shaky hand to his lips, setting the cigarette in his mouth before he lit it up. He slipped down and rested his head against the bricks, his hair shorter. He had quite the reputation. A freshman walked by and stared at him with wide blue eyes. Quin flipped the kid off before standing up and dropping the cig on the ground, snuffing it with the heel of his worn out sneaker.

'20'

"Yes, we found your son smoking on school grounds."

"WHAT!?" Quincy sat with his eye casted towards the ground. It wasn't like it was a big surprise or anything. He listened to his foster parents act so righteous and mighty. When they took him home, he went up to his room. He was fourteen, didn't have much say in anything really. He laid down on his bed and closed his eyes.

'10'

"We gather here today to remember such a brave little boy." The priest proceeded, and Quincy kept his head bowed, tears falling down his cheeks. His brother... the only person in the world he cared about. The only god damn person! He listened to the entire procession. He continued to listen to his 'brother' go up and talk about John... then that little bitch, Audrey. She wasn't too old... never even talked to John, even though they were the same age. By the time his wicked foster parents got up to the podium, Quincy stood up and stormed out of the church.

Fucking phonies! He pulled out a cigarette and put it between his lips as he suppressed a sob. He felt his emotions bubbling over. Before he could stand it all... but now... there was nothing keeping him here. He thought that as he looked over and the little girl ran out after him. He had tears falling down his cheeks before he through the cigarette on the ground before she wrapped her arms tightly around him. "Quinny! I'm so sorry..." She cried, just in time for a photographer came and got a really fucking sentimental picture that would grace the front page of the paper.

...

The fucking bastards were using his brother's death as a publicity stunt. He stopped talking after that. He didn't get hurt though... His foster brother, Adam didn't try to make him do anything for quite a while.

'1'

'Knock knock'.