The Release

THE RELEASE

The wind howled loudly as it ran thru the trees. The owl sat high on the tree waiting. His head twisted its full 360 degree, looking, scanning, searching the surroundings for it. He never knew where it would come from. He just waited for that bright green light that shot up into the sky in a flash. His job was to catch it and escort it to its destination. The release, he never knew when it would happen. It just did.

Harlon was not a good man. Never had been. He had grown up alone. The product of a father that was too selfish to take care of anyone but himself and a mother that grew up sexually abused since the age of two. She knew addiction and prostituting to sustain her addiction. Harlon had been an unwanted accident. One she did not care for. So, from a young age, Harlon had not known affection. The system had taken him in from the moment he was born, and as luck would have it, he was never adopted. Foster home after foster home where he was mistreated and abused day in and day out.

At the age of 13, while living with a particularly mean foster parent, he killed his first victim. That night. Foster parent had been drinking heavily. He liked to drink, that was his drug of choice, alcohol. There were three other foster kids in the house besides himself and he likes taking out his frustrations on them. Harlon was the oldest of the four, so he took it upon himself to protect the other three. Foster parent would come in, yelling and screaming obscenities. You would hear his boots pound the stairs as he grabbed the closest object that could inflict pain and quash his frustrations. That day Harlon heard him come in. The other three were asleep in their squalid bed but heard him arrive. He was in a particularly bad mood that day. You could feel it in the air. The other three hid in the closet as they heard the door open. Harlon stood in front of the closet door knowing that he was going to take the brunt of his anger. But that was okay. He was bigger and stronger than the other three. Jared was seven, and frail. Mara was five and tiny. She was blond with sallow skin and big sad brown eyes. He had not touched her in the past few months. Harlon would get in the way and take his licks until he got tired so she would be touched. Michael was the baby, only two but he had already suffered more broken bones than most adults acquired in a lifetime.

Foster parent came in the door with blood shot eyes and a whip in his right hand. Where he got a whip, who knew. This was going to be a good one. Foster parent saw Harlon in front of the closet door, and he flew into a rage. He screamed for Mara; son of a bitch wanted to let out his anger on Mara. She heard her name inside that closet, and she peed. It was involuntary, the fear was that strong. She hid under Jared’s arms and coiled her legs on his as he held her. He felt the warmth of the urine as it ran down her legs and onto his pant leg.

Foster parent went into a rage and slung that whip hard hitting Harlon across his arms as he slung them up covering his face. It was a fleeting sting, like when u burn yourself against the oven. Foster parent flung that whip again and again hitting Harlon in his stomach and back as he tried to cover himself. He felt the stinging repeatedly. His shirt was beginning to get stained by the blood oozing out of his wounds and he just took it. Better him than Mara he could take it he told himself repeatedly as he felt the warmth of the blood stain his shirt. Foster parent stopped suddenly and looked at Harlon puzzled at first and then with this glazed furry that came over his eyes. He grabbed Harlon by the arm and threw him across the room. Halons battered; bloody body smashed against the wall. It stunned him momentarily, but he reacted almost immediately. Foster Parent was reaching for the closet door. He could not let that happen. Mara would not survive this vicious attack. He got up as fast as his injured body permitted him and he flung himself against Foster Parent. He was reaching for Mara. Her big brown eyes were wide and brimming with tears. She was screaming and Jared was clinging to her legs not letting go.

“son of a bitch, motherfucker” thought Harlon. After all those lashings and he still had not squelched his anger. All that and for nothing. As he lunged towards Foster parent, Harlon saw a hammer on the side table. He reached for it in one quick swoop and grabbed it. Foster Parent was grabbing Mara by the arm as she screamed and thrashed wildly. Harlon grabbed that hammer and he swung it against Foster Parent as hard as he could. It contacted a hard thump and the sound of crunching. Foster Parents eyes flew open in what looked like surprised. His arm let go of Mara as he slumped, and his knees hit the floor hard. Harlon kept swinging that hammer over and over as blood sprayed from Foster Parents head and onto Harlon and Mara and Jared. Harlon just kept swinging and contacting Foster Parents head. Harlon was screaming at the top of his lungs. Jared screamed for him to stop but he was barely aware of his surroundings. He just kept swinging as hard as he could he had to stop him.

Harlon felt it before he saw it. A clocked figure was approaching him. There was this bright green light emanating from him as he got closer. Harlon could feel the coldness as ne approached. He felt a sudden fear. Fear like when Foster Parent would be climbing those stairs, approaching, menacing. He had not felt fear like that in an awfully long time. He felt defenseless, helpless once again. The owl saw the green light shoot up towards the sky and he flew to catch it. His talons reached up and grabbed it. Harlon saw as the owl caught him and they flew up, up, into the sky. Harlon could feel the air as it rushed threw his body and he felt himself soar higher and higher. Then the owl released him as something else caught him. Coldness again, bitter coldness and then everything went black.