Your Time is Up

Joe was ecstatic. Time had run out and he was ready to leave. He smiled to himself, Not only was he leaving behind this nightmare of a foster home but he had somewhere to go. Joe grabbed a few more things and placed them in a box.

As if sensing the end was near, Hal came bursting into the room. Joe could smell the booze on him and he wrinkled his nose in disgust at the putrid scent.

"Where do you think you're going?" the drunkard slurred in Joe's general direction, his eyes unable to focus very well.

"Shouldn't matter to you," Joe said. He could hardly stand the sight of the man let alone the smell.

"You don't turn eighteen until next week," Hal said as he approached Joe, his hand curling into a fist, "until then, you stay."

Joe laughed, tears coming to his eyes at the ridiculousness of the situation, "you think you can make me stay? You think you can tell me what to do anymore? You think I'm going to stick around and let you try to ruin my life further? Though, heaven knows, the only thing that you could do is make me sick from looking at you," Joe said in derision.

"I'll teach you a thing or two before you go," Hal threatened as he moved forward. He didn't see how Joe shifted his weight, hands held loosely by his side.

Before Hal could raise his fist Joe had struck quick as lighting, his own blow landing in Hal's spongy midsection, followed quickly by a vicious right-cross to the face.

Hal stumbled backwards and fell to the ground, gripping his stomach in obvious agony. He looked up to see Joe standing over him and flinched back from the rage in his face.

"Your time is up Hal," Joe said and stepped over the prone man on the ground.