Just Maybe

By: KimMi

I don't own digimon.  If you actually thought for one second I did; you're a hopeless moron who doesn't deserve to be reading this fic, let alone any.

This is a Henry story from his view.  He's sixteen.

So here I am, crying.  The tears run down my face as I try not to make a sound.  Don't know why though.  No one else is home.  Why was I crying again?  Oh yeah.  My father.  God, I felt sick and stayed in bed.  You'd think I fucked someone in front of my parents from the way he acted.  What did I stay home from?

Church.

I was sick last night,  losing my voice in fact, and I woke up this morning feeling ill.  My throat was sore and my head was numb and achy.  So I stayed home from church thinking it'd be better then going and getting worse, or still being sick tomorrow for school.  So Susie went to church without me and I stayed in bed.

Two seconds after she left, the phone rang.  I untangled myself from my nice, warm bed and trudged over to the phone in my parents room.  It was my dad.

"Just wondering if you kids went to church yet."

"Susie just left."

"Why didn't you go?"

"I wasn't feeling good."

Suddenly, his voice became a lot harder.  "What do you mean you weren't feeling well?"

"My head hurts and my throat's sore."

"My god kid.  You better be deathly sick and throwing up when I get home." he sighed angrily.  "You're not doing a god damned thing today, got it?"

"Yes."

"And you're grounded too, you hear me?"

"Yes."

He hung up, not saying good-bye or anything.  Just hung up.

So that's why I'm here, crying.

So I didn't go to church?  What was the big deal?  Sure, it wasn't like I couldn't, but I didn't want to because I was sick.  Sick.  Not sleepy and wanted to sleep in.  Not bored and didn't feel like going.  Sick.  So, I stayed home because I didn't feel good.  Was that such a crime?  Was it the ultimate taboo that I didn't want to go to church.

Here's something for you, I'm not even Christian.  I'm a wiccan.  That's right.  I'm wiccan.  A god damned, fucking, witch that thinks god's a woman and a man.  Why don't I just tell my parents?  Well, here's my father's opinion on witchcraft.  We were watching X-Files, and some 'wiccan' jumped out of a bathtub full of blood to strangle the main guy, not sure of his name.  I told my dad that that was completely the opposite of what a wiccan would do, and that wiccans were being stereotyped with something they weren't.  Here was my dad's reaction.  "Serves them right."  Was my religion to be punished because of some lies made up by some old men in the 16th century, saying all pagan religion were the act of the devil in order to take over the world with Christianity?

Might as well get out of bed.  I've been crying silently for the past ten minutes, might as well wipe my face.  So, I went into the bathroom, took one look in the mirror, and began to sob loudly.  Grabbing the towel on the rack, I sat on the toilet and sobbed, smothering my face with the towel.  I felt my face through the fabric, and curled my fingers.  It felt like I was trying to jab my eyes out, but I don't care at the moment.  The steak knives downstairs are sounding very tempting at the moment, but I don't want to die.  I'm not mad at my father, just upset that he couldn't believe me, his own son.  Plus, I don't want Susie to see me like that, or like this.  After another five minutes of crying, I stopped.  I thought back to my father's words, and started wailing again.  I wanted to throw up, just to please him and show him I was sick.  Maybe if I cried enough, I would make myself sick enough to throw up.

Another ten minutes of self hate and doubt.  I stopped telling myself that I wasn't wrong to miss church, and slip to saying I should have went and made everyone happy; everyone but me.  Why do I have to pretend to be something I'm not?  Everyone at school thinks I'm the silent brain, not capable of anything that doesn't revolve around studies.  I bet they never went on the net and read all the fics I wrote.  I bet they never even dreamed that I had a imagination big enough to rival Takato's, or even Susie's.  I would even bet my own computer that no one thought I could be spontaneous, and hyper, and unwaveringly happy.  Everyone sees me as the brooding type.  That was Rika, and she's changed and everyone's excepted her change, and was happy.  Me, they wouldn't dream that I could be anything else.

By now, my throat feels like it's one fire because of my cries.  My lungs burn, so do my eyes.  My back's sore now, and it's painful to move.  I can't help like feeling that things aren't as bad as I'm making it sound, but it is.  I should go clean the house or something.  Might as well make the best of being grounded.

As I walk to my room, I strip out of my pajamas, and throw them at the wall of my room in anger.  It hits my favorite poster with a ripping sound.  Maybe I am too old for beyblade, or the other animes I watch.  That reminds me, I need to finish watching the English dub version of Yu-Gi-Oh.  It was Bukura vs. Yami in the first duel of the Battle City finals.  I hate the American dubbed version of Yu-Gi-Oh.  If it didn't help my English, I'd stick to the Japanese version.  I mean, Malik 'used his rod' to make Bukura leave Ryou, who was weak from being hurt.  Yami couldn't attack or he'd hurt his friend.  Unfortunately, if Yami didn't attack, the world would be destroyed.  Then Bukura took over Ryou and told Yami to attack him instead of Ryou in order to protect his Hikari; but the American dubs screwed that over.  Over there, Bukura only saved Ryou because 'he still needed him.'  God, they make him seem like a heartless bastard, but he isn't.  He actually admitted he cared about Ryou and they took that away from him!  Okay, so maybe I'm getting a little worked up over an anime, but I'm so damned upset!

Reluctantly I got dressed and headed downstairs.  No one else was at home.  Dad was at work, Mom was too.  When Susie got old enough, she got a job in order to take up some time.  Rinchei (sp?) my older brother, left for college a while ago.  Jaarin (sp?) my sister is at a friends house, I think.  Yeah, she doesn't get yelled at for missing church when she's out enjoying herself, I get grounded because I was sick.  And Susie, of course, is at church.

I wish Rinchei was here.  I could talk to him about anything, and he'd understand.  I even told him about being a wiccan and he promised not to tell Mom and Dad, but what was better was that he understood.  He himself didn't believe in it, but he actually took time to read a bit about it, and found out what it was.  He said that it was good that I found a positive religion, and even if he didn't believe in it, he was happy for me.  I think Jaarin knows too, but she doesn't seem to care.  Each unto his own is her reaction to stuff like this.  I think she went to Rinchei to have him explain the basics of it to her, but never accused me of anything.

But some secrets I can't even tell my older brother.  Like the fact I might be bi.  I shudder to tell anyone.  Not because I don't trust them, but because, I need my few secrets.  Plus, Takato might not be the same around me when he spends the night.  I mean, I've looked at girls; thought cute, or not; but I don't know.  I can see a guy and think the same, and I feel weird around Ryo.  I wonder if it's because I look up to him, or maybe...

Maybe it'd be something else no one would understand.  Same sex relationships are more accepted today, but not by my parents.  My mom say's it's fine for them, but she thinks it's unnatural.  I dare not talk to my father about it.

My thoughts run around for a while as I start cleaning.  It's hot, maybe I should cheek my temperature.  I'm not sick, I've convinced myself of that, but if I had some evidence, then maybe he'd believe me.  96.9.  Oh yeah. big temperature.  Should I have breakfast?  I'm not hungry.  I shouldn't if I don't need to.  I don't think I'll eat at all today unless he asks me to.  I'm fat anyways.

I pick up stuff, throwing empty pop bottles away, taking down the 'bed' Susie made last night.  Moving dirty dishes into the kitchen to wash them. I surpress a cough.  I'm not sick.  It's just from all that crying.  I can't cough, I'm not sick.  Tears start to well up behind my eyes.  I can't cry anymore!  Susie will be home in less then an a hour, I can't let her know I was crying.  Those knives sitting on the counter are looking really tempting, but I don't want to die.  I don't want to hurt myself.  I just want my father to understand.  That's it's loud sobs break out.  I lean over the sink, coughing and crying.  If anyone heard me, they probably thought I was dying.  It hurts.  My lungs are on fire, and I can't see through my tears.  It's spinning, my head pounding.  As my lungs attempt to escape, I find myself wanting to throw up again.  Just to please him.  I'm being idiotic!  Wanting to puke my guts out just to please him.  I should hate him, but I can't.  He's my father, I love him and only want to please him.  Oh god, the coughing hurts really bad now.  I think I was like that over the sink for another ten minutes, gagging, coughing, just being miserable.  I even my breathing so I wouldn't cough, but found my self gagging still.  Finally, I wipe the tears from my eyes, clean my face, and go back to cleaning.

Someone's fighting with the front door.  It can't be Susie, she's still at church.  Oh no.  Please don't let it be him!  I'm still crying, I can't let him see me like that.  He can't know anything is wrong.

I'm good enough to hide my tears.  I finish cleaning the living room, not once meeting his face or speaking.  I wash the dishes and my spirit animal tries to comfort me.  I ask him to leave me alone.  I don't want to be comforted.  I don't need to be.  Nothing is wrong with me.

I finish go upstairs.  I still had not said a word to him.  He probably thinks I'm mad at him, but I'm not.  I just want him to believe me.  He never believes me.  Not when it counted.

I've given up on the idea of giving the house a make-over.  I think writing this down as a fic would fit my purposes a lot better.  What should I put it under though?  A digimon fic I think.  Maybe some angst under Davis's point of view.  Just need to change the 'silent brain' part to 'mindless jock.'  That should work.

So, I wrote the fic, even though I should be writing that essay for Reading/Literature class.  A paper on 'The Scarlet Letter.'  I don't want to though.  Last year I was in the honors class, and really happy because that meant more work and learning.  I did a paper for 'The Crucible' for this year's class last week, and almost cried again.  I did everything just the way it should be.  I put in perfect imagery, used good examples, and didn't write too much.  I got 18 points for it out of 40.  I don't understand, that was a good paper!  So what if I focused on the characters in play being tested for honor rather than honor itself?  I worked long and hard, changing almost everything from the rough draft for the final to be perfect.  But, I failed it!

Screw this all.  I'm just gonna write this fic.  I put in a Linkin Park CD.  Hybrid Theory.  Listening to that dark, depressive music really helps when you feel the same.

Well, it's almost over.  Now that I write it down, it just looks like random thoughts jumbled together.  Oh well.  Someone will like it, hopefully.  There are enough Davis fans for me to get at least 1 review.

...

But what if one of my friends reads this??!!  What if I'm still like this on Monday and they ask what's wrong?  They'll, they'll  ...

I don't care anymore.  I don't care about anything.  My backs aches as I move, breathing hurts.  I'm not sick.  It's from crying.

I don't care anymore, I'll just post this fic; not for pity, not for understanding, but because it makes for a good fic and it helps me.

Maybe, someone though will understand.  Maybe my friends will read this and find out I'm not a silent brain.  Maybe, they'll know me better.  And maybe, just maybe, my Dad will know me better too.

Dated: September 14, 2003.

That was me on that same date.  Just change Rinchei to my friend Hope, Jaarin to Firefly, and Susie to my little sisters.  Tell me if you want me to write down the part where my grandma takes me for a ride.  I'll change her to Jaarin for Henry.

I'm still sore as I write this.  Coughing makes it hard to breath, but I'm not sick.  It's just some subconscious plot my body has to make my mind feel better.  When I describe things, it probably sounds worse then it is.  I can't tell if I'm exaggerating or I really feel this way.  All I know is that I hurt, I ache, I'm dizzy, and breathing is painful.

I am a wiccan, I may be bi, and if you know me personally, don't let this change your opinion of me.  And no, I don't feel weird around a girl like I like them.  I just really like henryo.