Fells like coming home

1 – Night terrors

The scene begun at the entrance hall, which looked like any other hall. There was a square table where some keys rested, abandoned by someone who was in a hurry to get in. There were pictures either on top of the table or on the wall, which showed a happy family.

In the living room, between the couch and the cupboard, two kids sat, on the floor, one on each side of a coffee table, playing a game invented by them. It involved baseball cards, marbles, and candies that were used as a coin. Even they weren't too familiar with the rules, but they were together, and the house was quiet, and it was all that mattered.

A woman was on the kitchen working on the stove, while simultaneously keeping an eye on the boys. She was proud of them, and by proxy, proud of herself for being their mother. There was a twinkle in her eyes that said that even though her life wasn't perfect, she would never change a thing if it meant risking her children.

All was peaceful. There were the sounds of laughter and boiling, and the smell was delicious. At the same time it meant that it was almost dinnertime. And that was when everything changed

The front door slammed opened, and a big, loud, drunken man walked inside. More like tried to walk inside, he was so drunk that even walking was a troublesome activity.

"Suzy, where is my beer?"

The woman froze. She knew what was coming. Money was scarce, and she had needed to buy some groceries, and it left her nearly with nothing. Most certainly without enough money to buy beer.

"Michael I told you before, we don't have enough money to…"

"Shut up, you lazy little bitch. All you do during the day is stand in this damn shack and comb your hair; I think I can ask for a beer when I come home."

The disagreement was old, the results were always the same.

The oldest boy was about to turn eight. He knew what to do when his father came home in one of his moods. Mommy told him to grab his brother and hide in his bedroom. He was strictly forbidden to leave the room until she said so. "You need to protect your brother, baby, it's your job, whenever I can't do it myself"

So that's what he did. He silently told his brother to be very still, and don't draw attention to himself. He grabbed the baseball cards, and the marbles, and stored them under the sofa. The candies he took with him, because he knew this could take hours, and they would be hungry. And his baby brother couldn't be hungry. It was his job to protect him. He needed to make sure his brother was safe, so that mommy would be happy with him. So that mommy would stop crying.

But that night he didn't stay in his bedroom. After making sure his brother had eaten his candy, and had fallen asleep, he opened the door and got out very slowly, as quiet as he could, so that neither his brother nor his parents knew what he was doing.

He could already hear the screaming. His father shouting and his mother trying to muffle her cries. He still couldn't understand what was being said so he got closer, and closer, and closer, so close that he could see what was happening. His parents were in the kitchen, between the counter and the wall next to the fridge.

"You are an ungrateful leach Suzy. You stay home all day, while I work my ass off trying to give you a good life, and when I come home what do I see? Gratitude? Appreciation? Of course not. I see a bitch that doesn't even care enough to buy her husband some beer." His voice was low now, almost an incantation. He was grinning, but his eyes spelled danger, and power, and he was not going to refrain himself from using it.

"Michael, we have two little kids. I needed to buy them something to eat and the money ran out. I'm sorry." She deep down knew it was no use. She would end up suffering the same fate, either she apologized or not. But she had to try. She had to keep on trying.

"Don't even try to feed me that crap, Susan… I give you enough money for you to be able to afford a pack of beer. What have you been doing with my money, slut? Have you been paying to get fucked up by some cock while I'm working? That's why you are always combing your hair right? There's no need, since you will never be more than a cheap whore."

"How dare you son of a bi……"

Before she ended her sentence, he slapped her. Hard. So hard that she, gaining momentum, ended up smacking her head against the refrigerator.

"You don't have the right to call me anything, you worthless piece of crap. You shouldn't even be looking at me, you are no one."

She was bleeding, and crying. Her pained look was one that her son had never seen, neither on his mother nor in anyone else. But in her eyes there was something more than pain. There was sadness, and above all others, there was resignation. As if she knew there was nothing more to be done except hopping that it would end soon, and without any major injuries.

He slapped her again, this time with less force. He wanted her awake, he wanted to subdue her, make her beg for mercy. He shoved her against the counter, and grabbed her arm, shaking her.

"I come home, and every night, and you tell me you're tired. Of course you're tired, I would be tired too if I had been fooling around with some shitty man who wanted nothing more than a booty call. You should be the one being paid, bitch."

The little boy didn't understand everything he was hearing. His mom had been all day taking care of the house, and taking him and his brother to the park, because it was summer, and they were getting bored. So why was his father saying that his mom had seen a man? She had been with them all the time.

He started taking her clothes of. Actually he started ripping them of, as if she was nothing more than a hanger. He never stopped beating her either it was a slap, a shove, or a full closed fist punch. Her face was bloody, and it was starting to bruise, and swell.

She took it stoically. Tears where barely visible anymore, since her face was already completely wet.

"Tonight you're going to do my bidding and you won't even open your big mouth to complain. Since everyone can have a go, I want my share of the meat"

His breath smelled like alcohol, and his hands were hurting her. He has squeezing her breasts without any concern. They had been getting tender lately, and his carelessness was hurting her. He touched her with nothing more than his hands and he never looked her in the eyes.

"You're going to suck my cock like you mean it" And he undid his belt, and took his pants, while he violently took her arms and push her to the ground.

The boy stopped seeing his mother. He was shocked, and confused. He didn't understand anything that was going on. He didn't know what his father was doing, or asking. And worst than that, he didn't know why he was making his mother cry. All he could see now was his father's upper body, his hands griping and pulling his mother's hair. What was she doing on the floor? Why was he hurting her, why didn't he help her get up.

All of a sudden, his father pushed his mother against the fridge again. "Stop" he barked forcefully "You don't think that I was going to let you finish with your mouth, did you? Because if everyone else is getting a piece of your cunt, that's what I'm going to get."

At this point his father punched his mother's head so forcefully, that she ended up on the floor. Soon after, he took his shoes and got behind the counter to, so he stopped seeing them. But he heard the moans. His father's moans, as well as his labored breathing. He heard them getting louder, and then stop.

The man stood, put his trousers on, and left without so much as a goodbye. He stomped past the kitchen door and the living room so hastily, that he missed the horrified little boy standing near. After making sure that his father was out of site, he crept very quietly to the kitchen.

What he saw marked him for life. His mother was lying on the floor, naked, bloody, and unconscious.

Seeley Booth woke up feeling nauseated. His breathing was difficult, his heart rate was accelerated, and he had a thick layer of sweat all over his body. He ran to the bathroom and dry heaved. He hated it. The nightmares always had this kind of effect on him, whatever the subject was. When he was starting to calm down he heard the phone ringing back in his bedroom.

"Booth" His voice was nearly inexistent. His throat felt like paper, from the nightmare and the vomiting.

The voice on the other side of the phone was unmistakable. And it meant only one thing: they had a case.

Hi guys!

This is my second fic, and I decided to try something more serious.

I am not sure it deserves the rating just yet, but I think it goes on the safe side!

Please tell me what you think... Any kind of review is appreciated..

Oh, and one more thing, I'm not a native speaker, so it's possible that my grammar is a litle off

Kiss Muifilipa