To Conquer

Ratboy:

The abused abuser is abused. Pathetic...but not for much longer. I don't think anything has ever felt so strange. You know when people go on about those outer body experiences? Like, they say 'I was all light headed, right. Almost as though I were looking in for the whole thing'. Well it weren't like that at all, it was the opposite. I can remember the disbelieving look Amy wore, the hints of pity that made me look away. All that sadness and angry frustration reflected back at me. She was disappointed because I wasn't man enough to report him.
Man enough...
My Dad always used to say that, used to think he could yell it into me, shake it into me...beat it into me. I try not to remember who I was then. The scrawny kid who couldn't read too good cause he took too many knocks to the head. Clumsy, awkward creep. The worst part was that I was always a failure. Did the wrong things, said stupid stuff, existed. I locked it all away though, dealt with the memories and set them aside. My Amy was proud see, I'd done something right for a change.

But you had to bring it all back, didn't you? Now I'm haunted. Only it's so much worse with you. Set me up with wanting looks and chaste kisses so you can knock me down in every sense. I won't be pathetic anymore. I want to watch you fall and crumble. I want you to collapse, hit the ground so hard you'll never get up. Then you'll finally be at my level, I won't just be at your feet. I'll make you hurt harder, bleed faster because you didn't want my love. So you get to watch me as your walls cave in and you slowly suffocate. Watch me walk away.

I deserve happiness right? As I clutch the bat and numbly walk up the stairs of ChezChez I truly don't know. All that anger I'd kept bottled up, Amy was the final straw. It had fueled me to plan it all out and kept me going all the way until the top of the metal stairs. But I had a job to do and one look at him laughing after all the shit he'd pulled. Enough was enough. I ignore the way my sweat and nerves make me grip even harder, concentrate on being silent. I'm not one for premeditated things, me. But even I have to admit this isn't total impulse. I feel like its some significant turning point, like I'm controlling fate. Like one hit will eradicate all the others and will wipe our past clean. As I take my position I realise I'm stabbing him in the back in every sense and it feels...good. Who knew the person I thought I loved could make me so hateful? But I'm not. I refuse to let you make me the same as you. I won't let myself bottle it away as you do, find comfort in a literal bottle and become slowly embittered. How does your whiskey taste laced with my blood?

He turns, I flex my shoulders. It happens in an instant of pure adrenaline and the sickly thud makes me look. Brendan all beautifully bloodied and by my hands. I can't stop staring, all I can hear is my erratic heart beating and the dull echoes of that sound in my imagination. I'm still looking down as a smirk pulls at my lips no, a smile. Everything in its right place at last. But the starved shaking sets in and to my horror I want to reach out. Brendan? I have to get out. Warren's voice is in the background, I wonder when he got here. It was like I had tunnel vision, I was careless. I'm not like Brendan, I'm not all seeing and planning. Something pulls at the back of my brain telling me I am. Warren's voice finally cuts through my thoughts.
"Ste?"
It sounds concerned, disbelieving. Like Amy's disbelief, my catalyst for it all and I can't...I can't...
I bolt for the door but not before casting another glance over his still form. Brendan Brady what you do to me. Where's the content feeling I was sure I'd get, huh? Somehow manage to take that from me too? At least I managed to make you look as pathetic as I feel. No doubt you'll be back to your uncaring Irish man routine in record time. I can fix that for you, would you like that? I realise I'm sneering, standing outside the club in the light. Part of me wants to hide away in the flat but the rest of me? I want to turn back around and hide in those arms. All we ever do is hide.

Thankfully my breathing has calmed down somewhat as I make it back home. My hands are still shaking as I try and hold the key steady. I think I have some cheap vodka somewhere and I start to rummage in the cupboard beneath the kitchen sink before freezing and gripping the counter for support. Sounds like something Brendan would do. I slam the door angrily and curl up in front of the TV. I used to do this when little after I'd had another encounter with Dad. The trick was to pretend you were watching the screen but in your head you'd be miles away. The feeling of white noise in my mind was eerily familiar, it was comforting even though it shouldn't have been. I could sit for hours focusing on anything but the pain. Only now my eyes watered and it didn't seem to work. I closed my eyes and saw all the Brendan's flash before me. Angry Brendan, lusty, smirking. All with an undertone violence. Then there was smiling Brendan, kissing, that expression he wore and softness in his eyes when he'd touch my face. I'm so tired and worn, I want to give in just a little. The way he'd push me to the wall and press up against me to close off the rest of the world. Was any of it real? I know in the morning I will be angry all over again but for now...I let the ghost of him lie next to me. I feel his familiar warmth encircling me and listen to his nonexistent whispers as though my life depended on it.

It was real, all real…too real.

AN

Sorry for any spelling mistakes, it's not my strong point.

I thought that episode was so powerful and the acting brilliant I just had to write something about it. I know it's short but don't know if it's worth continuing. I don't feel I've done Ste justice. Any opinions on how to improve? Eh, I'm sorry about the fluffy rubbish at the end xD Remember kids, review! ^-^