Get Out

Charles sat at his desk, feverishly finishing the sermon he was to give the next day. It wasn't often that students were given the oppurtunity to speak in the local church. Flipping through his worn Bible he found passage after passage for the topic he would be talking about. It wasn't until they came into the little office, that he noticed his roomates come back from their classes.
"'ol Brother Charles, workin' on his spirituals again." Mark, the sort of leader of the house, quipped while the others laughed. Charles closed his eyes against the harsh words he wished to tell them. It didn't matter that the house they were currently inhabiting had belonged to his family for generations, or that he tecnically could kick them all out if he wished. It didn't matter. Half of the reason they were there was because he could barely afford the school and by their parents' money paying rent, he was able to so kicking them out would be out of the question.
"Mark, I'm trying to finish this." he said in a cool tone.
"You think they'll listen to you? What do you say boys, think the people will listen to this great man?" he aked turning to the other two. They only snickered. Mark gave one last glance at Charles before giving a hearty laugh as he and the others left the room.
Charles wrote more emphatically now, empowered by his anger. He didn't see where they got off being the way they were. Here he was opening his home to them and all they thought to do was harrass him. Studying to be a preacher wasn't always easy but then when he had them, it was even harder.
'Just one more year.' he thought to himself as he glanced over his sermon. Making sure everything was in place and the verse he chose to use were all correct, he closed his Bible and set aside the sermon. Turning out the small light he'd been able to acquire through the school, he made his way to bed.
The next night when he came home from church and from visiting with friends and members of the congregration, he wasn't surprised to see Mark and his two buddies hosting yet another party. It was the usual people. There was also the factor of the whiskey being ingested by all the party's members. He would admit that once and awhile he would take a sip from the flask, but never did he get drunk. Girls flaunted over him as he entered the house, some tried to take his hat and jacket, he pushed them away. The men of the house told him to relax and that it was all fine. It was when he heard the breaking of his mother and father's wedding picture that he lost control.
"Out all of you, you're not welcome here." he shouted
"But Charles...." Mark started.
"No, Mark, this is my house and as of now you all are trespassing."
"Doesn't the Bible say something about losing control, Charles." Mark said as he slowly approached him.
"Don't start." he warned.
"Start what, just telling you what you've told us." Mark came dangerously close to Charles, backing him up into a corner. Swallowing, he looked down at Mark's hand and noticed a knife. It was there from when Mark and his buddies had been throwing them at the wall for fun, it was a regular sport of their's.
"Just get out, now." his tone was cold now, he was sick of them and he wanted them gone once and for all.
"Or what? What's the little preacher gonna do?" Charles looked him dead in the eye as he moved to go past him. The problem with that was he had run into Mark's knife and the knife now dug into his gut, causing more pain than he'd eve felt in his life.
"What have you done?" he asked looking from the knife to Mark's shocked face.
"I-I don't know." Mark was instantly sobered at the sight of what he'd done.
"Just, get out, get out all of you." Charles pleaded as he gasped for breath.
"We'll get you help." Mark promised as the party fled. Charles didn't respond, just watched as they all left. It was a cold night and he could already feel the cold enveloping him. The trespassers were gone and for all he knew for good. He closed his eyes as blood seeped from the wound. His face became a sickly pale.
"Just stay out." he said in a wheezing voice with his dying breath. No one heard, no one was there. The partiers had left him. He died alone, the trespassers had gone...for now.