Just Ten Minutes Late

It's surprising to know that a very small mistake can create a big mishap. The most horrific of accidents can be caused by such a small error. You should know that by now. Just look at all the news stories or outbreaks, every little bad thing that happens in the world, sometimes, all it takes is one screw up.

Rufioh learned that very clearly, macking on a girl when he was driving back home from prom. He wasn't above the speed limit, nor under the influence. But it only takes one split second, one flirtatious glance to the passenger, to hit a man. Rufioh was a murderer at seventeen.

Porrim didn't like small mistakes, ones so easily prevented, either. She was always careful, always alert, always making sure she knew what she was doing. But, it only takes one small mistake, one accidental sip of a drink. She was date raped in the middle of a tamed party.

You'd think you'd had learned this little lesson already: all it takes is one mistake. Hell, you thought you had it down. But- you made a mistake like all the others. This time around, you were just ten minutes late.

.

Friday nights were sometimes all you had left to live for. Every other night could be unpredictable, but not Friday. He was always out until at least midnight, always, it was Ladies Night. A better chance to get laid, or maybe just enjoy the view. This gave you the supreme opportunity to explore the world for your own.

"C'mon, C'mon! Oh-fohhh- fuck!" You snicker slightly at the pained and disappointed moaning. Latula instantly runs off to the exasperated Captor and is trying to appease him while Kurloz and yourself are chilling by a nearby bench.

Kurloz is texting his girlfriend, of course, but you're actually halfway paying attention to this interesting development. You feel cruel sometimes, but whatever, you know the damn boy can't be that hurt. A nudge at your shoulder catches your attention, Kurloz is giving you a weird look, and he points to his lip, as if asking, why the hell do you have a cigarette if you ain't gonna light it?

Of course, what he doesn't know, is that it is a god damn metaphor. Secondly though, there's a sudden lack of care in your thought pattern, and you think: why the hell not? and you light that shit up.

Fuck, no wonder you never actually smoked these.

You stomp it out in three seconds flat and go back to watching Mituna and Latula trying to decide how to land that heelflip.

The last time you looked at your watch it was eleven o' clock, so you know there isn't much time left until you have to be home. You know this, you know it very well, but when Latula asks you to stay to watch Mituna 'totally land it this time', even insisting it, you agree. And it takes him a few tries, maybe three, but he gets it, and when he does there's this ecstatic expression on his face and Latula is squealing for him. Hell, you give him a little applause.

And now, it is eleven fifty five.

No-

No. No. NO. NO.

You sprint down the street with speed you didn't even know you had. Ten minutes, you're ten minutes late. You hope to whatever God there is that your dad got lucky tonight or decided to stay late. You pray the entire time you're running.

When you round the block and see your house, your chest nearly squeezes in on itself. His car is in the driveway.

You gain more speed, your legs ache, and the air in your lungs burn. But you run anyway.

You're so damn lucky, so god damn lucky that he drops his keys when he's in the car, and the booze he's been chugging makes it hard to find them. Still, you have no time to cheer, and you burst into the house, panting like a damn dog.

The urgency to get back home wasn't to beat past your dad, you didn't give a damn if he saw you. What you gave a damn about was the person who was sitting in the living room, swishing about a stick and looking dorky as ever as he tries to repeat fake spells.

"Expecto- Expecto- Patronum! Patronum!" He sounds so eager, like he knows he can do it, like there's still that little bit of innocence in him, a naietivity about all things magical. That's why you're here.

"Ey- yo, Danny! C'mon Danny, it's time for bed!" You urgently speak to him, diving in with a forced smile and trying to usher him upstairs.

"You're late, Cronus!" He says back with a pout, flicking his stick in your direction. It slaps against your shoulder lazily, and you would've given the boy a look of blank annoyance, but then there's the sound of the car door.

"Yup, yup. I know, Eridan. I'm late! I'll make it up to you, okay? C'mon though, time for bed!" You urge again, this time nearly picking the boy up to carry him up the stairs. But he's heavy enough, and your grip is so oddly placed, that you drop him. And then he's in the house.

"What in the blazes are you two doing up?" You whirl around so quickly that you almost fall over. Eridan isn't as concerned as you are, but he isn't happy either. He instinctively shuffles behind you, grabbing onto the fabric of your shirt and looking sheepishly from behind your arm.

"We were just going to bed, dad," You try to voice, pushing your little brother backward along with yourself towards the stairs.

"A course you were, hm? You know you have- have a damn curfew, right?" He slurs grossly. You make mental note of the nearly full beer bottle in his hand, as well as the way he tilts about. You can take him, you very much can, he's so drunk he can't think straight. But it's so dangerous, because Eridan can't take him.

"Doesn't matter, dad. We're going to bed," You insist, giving him a hard look. You've had to face him before, his drunk side is a coward, a tough look gets him frightened.

But not this time. His eyes narrow, he's towering over you, the grip on that bottle tightens the more he looks at you. "I'm getting real fucking tired of that tone, boy! I am your father, do you hear me? What I say goes!"

You try to push your brother back, but it's difficult. He's holding you like you're the only lifesaver in the deepest ocean, and he's drowning. It doesn't help that your father is inching closer, glance and hands itching to rumble. You can't let it happen.

So you take the first move, you push your father with both hands away. And he stumbles, you think, finally something is working out! But it doesn't. He pushes you back, forceful enough to nearly have you toppling over your little brother, and then that bottle (you should've been paying more attention) is heading straight for your face. You can't make a move to stop it. Coats of alcohol and glass rain on you. You face begins to sting, blood is leaking down, and you hear screaming. An innocent screaming.

There's more, you know there is, but for the life of you, you can barely recall it. You know you were thrown against a wall at one point, maybe even socked in the gut. But the one thing you're sure of is now it's over.

He's too drunk to make it up the stairs, and he ends up passing out on the couch.

You, on the other hand, are floundering at the top of the stairs, blood ending up in your mouth and breathless beyond belief. There's not enough time to flounder, though. A wash cloth gathers up enough blood to make you look halfway human, and once that's done, you go to find your brother.

He's in his room, no doubt trying to hide. But you make your way in and find him in his closet, sitting on the floor with face nuzzled into his knees.

"Hey- Danny. Everything's okay now," You try to voice through a gruff lull as you kneel down to his level. He doesn't move, not even when you place your hands on his knees. "I'm sorry- I'm really really sorry," you continue to speak, rubbing circles into his knees. Again, he remains still. "Tomorrow- I'll make up being late, yeah? Do you want to- go get some ice cream?" Kids liked ice cream, right?

Then he moves.

He lifts his head and looks straight into you, no doubt, he could see your soul. His eyes are cold, stark, and terrifying. And you know that his innocence is gone.

"Yeah- we'll go get ice cream."

(Hey, at least Eridan's spell worked. :3)