All the Rage
Tommy was ready to leave his parents' house. Ever since the two decided to call it quits, namely after Dad blew up the garage in another invention-gone-wrong incident, Tommy never felt safe in his own bed. It wasn't his anymore. It was his father's bed, and his mother's condo had his mother's bed. Neither "home" had a place for him, so it was time for him to leave.
As he carried a stack of boxes from his room, the top-most box tumbled down and rolled into the hallway on its corners, spilling the contents all over the floor. Dil peeked out of his room, watching as Tommy put down the stack and tended to the spilled box, which was filled with many of Tommy's baby toys, toys he'd tried to give away on numerous occasions. He was stopped each time by his mother, who refused to accept the fact that he no longer walked around in a blue t-shirt and diaper with his old friends. Nothing was the same anymore, and the contents of the box just proved to Tommy that she was willing to go as far as she needed to go to keep him young forever.
Letter blocks, once held tightly in a red, plastic, block-shaped container that smelled of baby wipes, were now tumbling down the stairs. Tommy noticed their sound as they hit the wood floor, the clack of the wood on wood, and he followed them down. An 'A' was on the lowest step, then 'B' and so on. Most of the alphabet took shape on the steps in an eerie display of coincidence.
"Hey, Dil, do you mind helping me get this junk together? I think I'll put it the donation box or something. I don't want it," Tommy called. Dil left his room cautiously. The divorce made him even stranger than usual, and Tommy worried about his younger brother. He looked skinny and pale from lack of sunlight, and Tommy knew he was probably under some sort of mental distress. Their father would never notice; they only stayed with him in the first place so they could keep going to the same school, or at least that was Tommy's reason. Dil's reason might be linked to his fear of not leaving his bedroom for more than a few hours at a time. He'd even been skipping his later classes lately to get back to his personal space, and Tommy knew it was only a matter of time before he lost it for good.
"Wait, are those in order?" Dil gasped, following the reverse path of letters down the stairs, then following them back up in the right order. "Tommy, it's a sign. You can't get rid of these things. Besides, it would break Mom's heart. Just take them over to her place if you don't want it. She won't send it back, especially if you tell her you want to get rid of it."
"Whatever, Dil, just help me so I can get out of here," Tommy sighed. He knew where Dil got his neurosis and her name was Didi Pickles, he sighed, holding the red container out to Dil so he could put the letter blocks inside.
"You know, I can't disturb this, not without taking some photographic evidence. Just step around them, okay?" Dil asked, disappearing into his room before Tommy could answer.
"Listen, I'll just do it myself!" Tommy groaned, tossing the 'Z' and 'Y' in before Dil could rush from the room to stop him.
"You've ruined it! Put them back!" Dil screamed. Tommy gave him a perplexed look. Dil never raised his voice, never. Dil was not someone who lost his temper. He threw tantrums to get what he wanted, but that was when he was little, and it was never out of anger. Dil's face was the face of rage, his cheeks deep maroon and his forehead beading with sweat.
"Dil, it's just blocks. You need to take some deep breaths and-"
"PUT THEM BACK!"
"Come on, now, what's going on up there?" Stu groaned, stepping up to where the 'A' block had fallen. "What is all this? Pick up the blocks and get out of here, Tommy. I'm not paying those movers to sit around all day," he said, disappearing off the stairs and slamming himself into the basement.
"Dil, you heard Dad. We have to clean this up and stop being so loud. Please, just calm down and let me handle this myself. I'm sorry I bothered you," Tommy said as calmly as he could, but he was scared. He didn't know his brother that well, he felt like, and he definitely didn't know this side of him. For all he knew, no one knew this side of him. It wasn't like the little dweebe had any friends.
"Tommy, I'm serious. Put the blocks back so I can take a picture. That's all I want is the picture, then you can do whatever you want. Put. Them. Back," he said in a low, growling voice. Tommy was frightened, so he did as he was told. He put the blocks back the best way he could, but the 'Z' was crooked and the 'Y' was on the wrong step.
Before Tommy could realize this, Dil noticed the changes. His face flickered with an even greater state of rage, and before Tommy could prepare himself, Dil kicked him in the side as hard as he could, causing Tommy to crumple and roll down the stairs, knocking all of those blocks downwards with him.
"I can't believe you did that!" Dil shrieked, his voice like a mad man's. He ran after his brother, using his feet to unleash a beating like none other. Tommy lay there in a ball trying to separate himself from the pain, but soon his mind fled from the situation. Animal-like yells came from his throat, alerting his father to the problem. Stu ran up the stairs to get Dil off of his brother, but Dil would have no part of it.
The blow landed unexpectedly. Stu was sent backwards, spinning in a circle from the punch he'd taken to his right cheek. He couldn't think straight, and he fell hard against the lower steps. He rolled like a rag doll against the wall, his consciousness gone.
Dil's anger refocused on Tommy. Kick after kick landed until Dil finally grew weary. Something snapped in his brain, and he suddenly realized what he'd done. He saw his father first, and he went to him. The man wasn't breathing very much, so Dil thought he'd just knocked him out. When he checked Tommy, his breathing was erratic, the breaths far apart and of different strengths.
"No!" Dil whimpered. He didn't kill his family. He wasn't capable of something like that. 'I mean, what did we even fight over?' he thought. He couldn't remember. His mind was focused on trying to right the situation. If he called the police, he'd be charged with murder if either of them died. If he didn't, they would die from their injuries or something. Dil had no idea. He just wanted out of there.
Dil ran outside. He got onto his bike and pedaled as hard as he could, but he was already tired before he even got down the street. He didn't know if he could make it to wherever he was going, and his chest felt tight as he turned onto a street leading towards the bus stop.
His breaths were raspy as he pedaled slower and slower. Then, he stopped pedaling, causing the bike to topple to the side with Dil still on top. He had no helmet, and when his head hit the ground, he was instantly knocked out.
A car horn sounded, blared, rang through the neighborhood. They stopped in time, but they didn't know what to make of the strange kid who'd fallen from his bike, his head dented from the fall. Emergency officials were contacted, and slowly, they pieced together the mystery of the murder-suicide kid who killed all of the males in his family, including himself.
Theme 035: Letter Blocks
To complete the themes yourself, I have the list posted on my profile. The list is for any type of fan fiction (one-shot, drabble, etc.) and any fandom. Challenge yourself in other ways to make it more fun, and enjoy!