Title: ...Never like them.
Author: Loz.
E-Mail: loz06@yahoo.com
Rating: PG.
Category: CJ/Leo.
Series: None.
Spoilers: None.
Archive (if applicable): The National Library http://westwingstories.com/library, also http://www.fanfiction.net`
Feedback: The good, the bad and the very ugly it's all appreciated.
Summary: CJ recalls her past.
Author's Notes: Obviously this was written quite a while ago, certain things are plainly out of date.
Disclaimers: ...Never like them...Never own them. Never again from Matchbox 20.
*
A twenty one year old still living at home must be one of the bigger contradictions of life.
The state says your an adult, but here you are still relying daily on your parents, financially for a lot of things while you work your butt of at a degree you hope will lead to something that resembles the ability to support yourself for the rest of your life.
All the time it feels like your life is sitting in neutral, like you've been sent from the front of the queue to the back again in the line to move onto the next part of your life.
You learn a lot along the way of course, mostly how you *don't* want to live your life, the root of all hierocracy in the world has to be parents who say don't do this, but have done it in the past themselves and somewhere along the line you realize you've come to one of those moments and nobody is warning you, because it's your parents lives and they don't want to admit it was a mistake...it's that big. But nobody needs to say anything, because you already know.
And then there is the first night you lie awake in bed and you realize your parents don't love each other anymore and their lives have faltered to getting up and going to work, coming home, going to sleep only to do it all over again. But they still maintain a partnership because their youngest child hasn't finished high school yet and they believe in treating each child equally, making sure each gets and education.
It always starts the same way, as if there's a script, it's usually a Friday, the end of the working week and people are tired, it's always over something trivial but turns into a full blown screaming match. Accusations are traded and memories conveniently wiped, it escalates into childish name calling, using adult words and you wonder if those horrible words come from the heart or frustration and anger, characteristic of the moment, defenses built up, not wanting to be the guilty party.
Tonight it's not that bad, not as bad as the night when you were 19.
~*~
Never Again
He's drunk again; it's time to fight
She must have done something wrong tonight
The living room becomes a boxing ring
It's time to run when you see him clenching his hands
She's just a woman... never again
I hear her scream from down the hall
Amazing she can even talk at all
She cries to me... "go back to bed"
I'm terrified that she'll wind up dead in his hands
She's just a woman... never again
Been there before but not like this
Seen it before but not like this
Never before have I ever seen it this bad
She's just a woman... never again
Just tell the nurse you slipped and fell
It starts to sting as it starts to swell
She looks at you... she wants the truth
It's right out there in the waiting room with those hands
Lookin' just as sweet as he can... never again
Seen it before but not like this
Been there before but not like this
Never before have I ever seen it this bad
She's just a woman... never again
Father's a name you haven't earned yet
You're just a child with a temper
Haven't you heard "don't hit a lady"
Kickin' your ass would be a pleasure
He's drunk again; it's time to fight
Same old shit, just on a different night
She grabs the gun, she's had enough
Tonight she'll find out how fuckin' tough is this man
Pulls the trigger fast as she can... never again
Seen it before but not like this
Been there before but not like this
Never before have I ever seen it this bad
She's just a woman... never again
~*~
You fumbled around looking for the direct number of the local police because you didn't believe it was enough of an emergency to dial that number, and you stood in the backyard, under the cover of taking your dog out to do it's business, your voice shakier than it had ever been in your life, you asked the police service to come and play mediator.
It was still late, but you'd stayed up, recognizing this was going to be a bad fight, as if your presence would stop anything happening. He'd been drinking, they both us alcohol from time to time and in the next room you can hear her rasping voice; you know he has his hand to her throat and he's drunk. He's saying don't make me do it, pleading for her to just leave him alone. You curse him for being hypocritical, disgusted by domestic violence cases on the news and you curse her for not just letting the sun set on an argument, going back time and time again, like birds to a dead animal. You can empathize with him for doing what he did, but not excusing the behavior, she does the same thing to you, drives you to the point of no return.
Still you don't stop the behavior, a cowardly act, but you don't know his potential, to go in with guns blazing only to be shot down. Suddenly it really is like strangers living under the one roof, you don't know them from the person who walks down the street past you that morning.
He hasn't been that drunk in a long time has he holds out his wrists for the police to arrest him or leave the house, but they recognize the volatile situation and for the first time ever you're embarrassed by him, mortifyingly embarrassed. You follow it up with a curse at her for not telling them what he did, but then nothing good can come of it.
On their way out you mouth an apology to the police because after all you don't believe they should have to do domestics, it's none of their business and there are better things to do with their time.
It's a strangely confusing time, you feel unable to just go to bed, turn out the light and ignore it all, the feeling of responsibility is ever present to make sure the fight over what they have probably both forgotten doesn't end any other way than verbally.
That night didn't run to script, but at 21 it did.
Your room is your sanctuary, even though the door has no lock, you turn up your favorite piece of instrumental music and get lost in writing fiction of characters whose grass is greener on the other side, happy lives. Where people only bicker and life runs to plan, it's all one big happy smiley face.
At some point your mother comes in and says bye, I'm leaving, enjoy the holiday we have booked in two weeks time. You barely turn around, saying a disinterested goodbye, after all, this is the script and according to the script she'll take the car someplace and come back early in the morning. It probably hurts that the three children she gave life to could seemingly care less if she disappeared from their lives, but the scenario has played out so many times that you become desensitized, not to mention unwilling to be drawn into the argument.
You notice your next brother down hasn't learnt to keep his fingers out of it yet, to seek refuge. You were just like him at that age. He seems hell bent on making a change, but like always arguments are with brick walls with her, stubborn and unwilling to change you can't even make her see the other point of view. So heads keep belting against walls and in the morning things will be the same, nothing changed or resolved making people compelled to argue that she only likes to make trouble, to complain and isn't interested in a solution.
You guiltily admit to yourself that life is made easier without her around and the sense of responsibility kicks in again, you won't sleep until you hear the banging of the door around one or two in the morning.
A loud thud shakes you right through and your rationality tells you it's her, but again you don't know what she's capable of, besides it's not your job to let her in, it's their argument and their house, you're just a boarder.
At this point you have the overwhelming urge to pee that has been creeping up on you, but you dare not walk the six steps to the bathroom because right now the fact that your back teeth are floating is the only thing keeping you awake. The light outside your room goes on and off and on and off again and everything is quiet then. Despite your determination to remain awake till the sun comes up or for the first time at 21, wet the bed you give in, go to the bathroom and are asleep within minutes of putting your head on the pillow again.
She's there in the morning when you get up and you know the script is complete, nothing will have changed, last night sucked up in some strange time warp, never mentioned, as if it didn't happen. It will be saved for the next blow up.
And so many times you want to laugh a strange laugh that starts happy, but ends up in frustrated tears because you want out of here, it's been too many years and you've about reached your quota of these people you call your family, but you can't move, trapped by financial constraints, left to beat your head on a wall in frustration.
But you know it shouldn't be this way and you think you know why...you suspect she's ill, sick, mentally, because her behavior over the years doesn't add up and her misery inflicts on everyone. It runs in the family and she would deny all, saying hereditary skips generations, but you have more than your suspicions.
You can hear the denials now and you wonder how one gets help for someone who doesn't want it. Each time she has an argument, gets mad and leaves you wonder if she'll come back or if you'll get a call from the police, perhaps from the same officers who came to your aid when you were 19. You wonder about guilt and feelings of responsibility hundreds of times worse than what you get now.
But the worst feelings are those you get when you lay awake at night, the ones where you wish you had someone to lie next to you, hold you tight and tell you it's going to be Ok and tonight's not the night things are going to change dramatically.
~*~
"Are you aware you've been talking about yourself in second person?" Leo reaches out for CJ's hand, his fear is her trip down memory lane is accompanied by flash backs and he wants to return her to the present.
"It's my way of disconnecting." A sad smile travels across her face.
"Is she Ok, did your parents divorce?" Concern etches his features.
"I don't know, that part of the story has yet to be written, I haven't seen my parents since I was 22, I got out as fast as I can, never told them where I was moving or what I was doing."
"They must have seen you on television."
"Of course, I never changed my name or tried to hide, they never contacted me, but then I never did either..." CJ fades out.
"My father shot himself in our garage." Leo says somberly.
"And then you meet someone else who has had it worse than you and you feel terrible for feeling the way you do, you wonder what sort of horrible person you've turned out to be, self-centered and unfair, they're the only reason your here right now." CJ goes back to second person.
"I think you're a very nice person." He kisses her gently on the forehead.
"I don't want to live like that, I don't want to be out of love after ten years, I don't want to feel like I have nothing left to live for... I don't want to make the same mistakes."
"So we won't." He assures softly.
~*~
Author: Loz.
E-Mail: loz06@yahoo.com
Rating: PG.
Category: CJ/Leo.
Series: None.
Spoilers: None.
Archive (if applicable): The National Library http://westwingstories.com/library, also http://www.fanfiction.net`
Feedback: The good, the bad and the very ugly it's all appreciated.
Summary: CJ recalls her past.
Author's Notes: Obviously this was written quite a while ago, certain things are plainly out of date.
Disclaimers: ...Never like them...Never own them. Never again from Matchbox 20.
*
A twenty one year old still living at home must be one of the bigger contradictions of life.
The state says your an adult, but here you are still relying daily on your parents, financially for a lot of things while you work your butt of at a degree you hope will lead to something that resembles the ability to support yourself for the rest of your life.
All the time it feels like your life is sitting in neutral, like you've been sent from the front of the queue to the back again in the line to move onto the next part of your life.
You learn a lot along the way of course, mostly how you *don't* want to live your life, the root of all hierocracy in the world has to be parents who say don't do this, but have done it in the past themselves and somewhere along the line you realize you've come to one of those moments and nobody is warning you, because it's your parents lives and they don't want to admit it was a mistake...it's that big. But nobody needs to say anything, because you already know.
And then there is the first night you lie awake in bed and you realize your parents don't love each other anymore and their lives have faltered to getting up and going to work, coming home, going to sleep only to do it all over again. But they still maintain a partnership because their youngest child hasn't finished high school yet and they believe in treating each child equally, making sure each gets and education.
It always starts the same way, as if there's a script, it's usually a Friday, the end of the working week and people are tired, it's always over something trivial but turns into a full blown screaming match. Accusations are traded and memories conveniently wiped, it escalates into childish name calling, using adult words and you wonder if those horrible words come from the heart or frustration and anger, characteristic of the moment, defenses built up, not wanting to be the guilty party.
Tonight it's not that bad, not as bad as the night when you were 19.
~*~
Never Again
He's drunk again; it's time to fight
She must have done something wrong tonight
The living room becomes a boxing ring
It's time to run when you see him clenching his hands
She's just a woman... never again
I hear her scream from down the hall
Amazing she can even talk at all
She cries to me... "go back to bed"
I'm terrified that she'll wind up dead in his hands
She's just a woman... never again
Been there before but not like this
Seen it before but not like this
Never before have I ever seen it this bad
She's just a woman... never again
Just tell the nurse you slipped and fell
It starts to sting as it starts to swell
She looks at you... she wants the truth
It's right out there in the waiting room with those hands
Lookin' just as sweet as he can... never again
Seen it before but not like this
Been there before but not like this
Never before have I ever seen it this bad
She's just a woman... never again
Father's a name you haven't earned yet
You're just a child with a temper
Haven't you heard "don't hit a lady"
Kickin' your ass would be a pleasure
He's drunk again; it's time to fight
Same old shit, just on a different night
She grabs the gun, she's had enough
Tonight she'll find out how fuckin' tough is this man
Pulls the trigger fast as she can... never again
Seen it before but not like this
Been there before but not like this
Never before have I ever seen it this bad
She's just a woman... never again
~*~
You fumbled around looking for the direct number of the local police because you didn't believe it was enough of an emergency to dial that number, and you stood in the backyard, under the cover of taking your dog out to do it's business, your voice shakier than it had ever been in your life, you asked the police service to come and play mediator.
It was still late, but you'd stayed up, recognizing this was going to be a bad fight, as if your presence would stop anything happening. He'd been drinking, they both us alcohol from time to time and in the next room you can hear her rasping voice; you know he has his hand to her throat and he's drunk. He's saying don't make me do it, pleading for her to just leave him alone. You curse him for being hypocritical, disgusted by domestic violence cases on the news and you curse her for not just letting the sun set on an argument, going back time and time again, like birds to a dead animal. You can empathize with him for doing what he did, but not excusing the behavior, she does the same thing to you, drives you to the point of no return.
Still you don't stop the behavior, a cowardly act, but you don't know his potential, to go in with guns blazing only to be shot down. Suddenly it really is like strangers living under the one roof, you don't know them from the person who walks down the street past you that morning.
He hasn't been that drunk in a long time has he holds out his wrists for the police to arrest him or leave the house, but they recognize the volatile situation and for the first time ever you're embarrassed by him, mortifyingly embarrassed. You follow it up with a curse at her for not telling them what he did, but then nothing good can come of it.
On their way out you mouth an apology to the police because after all you don't believe they should have to do domestics, it's none of their business and there are better things to do with their time.
It's a strangely confusing time, you feel unable to just go to bed, turn out the light and ignore it all, the feeling of responsibility is ever present to make sure the fight over what they have probably both forgotten doesn't end any other way than verbally.
That night didn't run to script, but at 21 it did.
Your room is your sanctuary, even though the door has no lock, you turn up your favorite piece of instrumental music and get lost in writing fiction of characters whose grass is greener on the other side, happy lives. Where people only bicker and life runs to plan, it's all one big happy smiley face.
At some point your mother comes in and says bye, I'm leaving, enjoy the holiday we have booked in two weeks time. You barely turn around, saying a disinterested goodbye, after all, this is the script and according to the script she'll take the car someplace and come back early in the morning. It probably hurts that the three children she gave life to could seemingly care less if she disappeared from their lives, but the scenario has played out so many times that you become desensitized, not to mention unwilling to be drawn into the argument.
You notice your next brother down hasn't learnt to keep his fingers out of it yet, to seek refuge. You were just like him at that age. He seems hell bent on making a change, but like always arguments are with brick walls with her, stubborn and unwilling to change you can't even make her see the other point of view. So heads keep belting against walls and in the morning things will be the same, nothing changed or resolved making people compelled to argue that she only likes to make trouble, to complain and isn't interested in a solution.
You guiltily admit to yourself that life is made easier without her around and the sense of responsibility kicks in again, you won't sleep until you hear the banging of the door around one or two in the morning.
A loud thud shakes you right through and your rationality tells you it's her, but again you don't know what she's capable of, besides it's not your job to let her in, it's their argument and their house, you're just a boarder.
At this point you have the overwhelming urge to pee that has been creeping up on you, but you dare not walk the six steps to the bathroom because right now the fact that your back teeth are floating is the only thing keeping you awake. The light outside your room goes on and off and on and off again and everything is quiet then. Despite your determination to remain awake till the sun comes up or for the first time at 21, wet the bed you give in, go to the bathroom and are asleep within minutes of putting your head on the pillow again.
She's there in the morning when you get up and you know the script is complete, nothing will have changed, last night sucked up in some strange time warp, never mentioned, as if it didn't happen. It will be saved for the next blow up.
And so many times you want to laugh a strange laugh that starts happy, but ends up in frustrated tears because you want out of here, it's been too many years and you've about reached your quota of these people you call your family, but you can't move, trapped by financial constraints, left to beat your head on a wall in frustration.
But you know it shouldn't be this way and you think you know why...you suspect she's ill, sick, mentally, because her behavior over the years doesn't add up and her misery inflicts on everyone. It runs in the family and she would deny all, saying hereditary skips generations, but you have more than your suspicions.
You can hear the denials now and you wonder how one gets help for someone who doesn't want it. Each time she has an argument, gets mad and leaves you wonder if she'll come back or if you'll get a call from the police, perhaps from the same officers who came to your aid when you were 19. You wonder about guilt and feelings of responsibility hundreds of times worse than what you get now.
But the worst feelings are those you get when you lay awake at night, the ones where you wish you had someone to lie next to you, hold you tight and tell you it's going to be Ok and tonight's not the night things are going to change dramatically.
~*~
"Are you aware you've been talking about yourself in second person?" Leo reaches out for CJ's hand, his fear is her trip down memory lane is accompanied by flash backs and he wants to return her to the present.
"It's my way of disconnecting." A sad smile travels across her face.
"Is she Ok, did your parents divorce?" Concern etches his features.
"I don't know, that part of the story has yet to be written, I haven't seen my parents since I was 22, I got out as fast as I can, never told them where I was moving or what I was doing."
"They must have seen you on television."
"Of course, I never changed my name or tried to hide, they never contacted me, but then I never did either..." CJ fades out.
"My father shot himself in our garage." Leo says somberly.
"And then you meet someone else who has had it worse than you and you feel terrible for feeling the way you do, you wonder what sort of horrible person you've turned out to be, self-centered and unfair, they're the only reason your here right now." CJ goes back to second person.
"I think you're a very nice person." He kisses her gently on the forehead.
"I don't want to live like that, I don't want to be out of love after ten years, I don't want to feel like I have nothing left to live for... I don't want to make the same mistakes."
"So we won't." He assures softly.
~*~