Good Intentions

HARRY’S POV

I work silently today and watch carefully the man who I call dad. He is no dad. He may be Meghan’s dad, but he is not mine.
I feel the hatred boiling inside of me and I take it out on the work we do today. It may be at or below freezing out today, but I don’t feel it. I sweat profusely trying to pull and untangle barbed wire than something has run through, tearing it down, tangling it up. With it, it pulled posts up and loosened others. Those will have to be replaced, new holes dug in a frozen ground.

I watch in the distance a heard of deer silently grazing and watch as Jim heads to the truck. He reaches under the seat and pulls out a gun. I watch as he adjusts the scope and lines up. He fires. The deer scatter.
“Come on, help me get the deer.”
I obey. Great, he carries a gun under the seat of the truck.
I follow him out and there lying on the ground is the deer, dead. I don’t know whether to be scared or simply amazed he shot it at that distance.

I stand and watch as he turns it over looking at it. “Grab the front legs and lets get it back to the truck. We’ll gut it before we head back. Don’t want that stuff attracting wild animals while were still out here.”
Now I know the reason for the gun.

We finish up just as the sun is starting to dip behind the trees.

I watch as he pulls a knife out of its cover and pulls it along the deers under belly. It takes every ounce of my being not to get sick from the sight and smells of what is before me.
He tells me to go up in the back of the truck and pull out a tarp and spread it out on the tail gate of the truck. I do so and watch as he dissects the animal and places it on the tarp to be taken back to the house.
He finishes and folds it up tightly and pushes it back, closing the tail gate. I gather the tools and supplies and place them in the tool chest and climb in the truck to head back to the house.

“I take it from the way you were watching me, you don’t remember seeing that done before.”
I want to yell at him but I don’t and answer politely, “No Sir.”
We pull up to the house and I’m instructed to get a cooler and bring it out. I go in and ask about it and I’m shown which one to take.

I automatically sense something different about Meghan and Mom. I cant exactly figure it out but I feel it.
I take the cooler out and watch as he loads the meat in it to be taken in and further cleaned. I help by taking it in the house and putting it in a separate freezer than the rest of the other food is stored. I’m told he’ll finish it after dinner.

I walk to my room and get my things out for a shower. I smell dinner being cooked and remember how hungry I am, lunch was quite some time ago. I start to shut my door and Meghan steps in.
“Mom knows”

I sit down and know shits about to go down.

“She wants to help you” she says excitedly.
The more people involved, the more things can go wrong. I run my fingers through my hair and look at her.

“What all does she know?”
“The letter you wrote to your mom, she found the paper underneath it and penciled it, revealing what you wrote. She want your mom to know that your fine. She wants you to go back to them.”
I mentally kick myself for not thinking of that, but then again, I would have never thought of that. Moms are sneaky when it comes to things like that.

“I showed her the magazines, so she knows”
“What now?”
“I think she’s going to make up something she needs for you to do around here tomorrow so she can talk to you”
I nod and stand up. Meghan stands and leaves the room.

I turn the shower on and wait for it to warm up, as it does I think about the past five minutes and try not to get my hopes up. At any point either one of them could change their mind and I end up in worse shape than I am now.

I step in the shower and look at the cross tattoo on my hand. Was I religious or have a strong faith in something? I look at the ones on my feet and wonder what was going on in my life at the time I got those, or all the tattoos. They all had to mean something to me. There has got to be something in one of those magazines about it.

I wash my hair and bathe, washing off all the sweat and grime of the day. I step out and under my clothes is a stamped envelope.

I get dressed and slide it one of the drawers, I’ll put my letter in it later.

The rest of the evening is the same as every other night, dinner, family time listening to the radio then bed.

I retire to bed, my body exhausted, my brain going on full speed.

My dreams are not dreams of happiness, they’re haunting me, memories of things I wished I could forget

Notes