A/N I had a really weird dream the other night which was the inspiration for this story. Actually, I should say my dream was this story. I'm just putting it on paper! Also, I have to apologize about the script at the beginning. I couldn't remember exactly how the fight goes so I did the best I could.
Disclaimer: As much as I wished I owned Super 8 I don't. I'm still acting for movies with my friends to send to Teen Film Festivals so I don't see owning Super 8 anywhere in the near future.
"I don't want you going anywhere near Louis or his daughter. When I say no, I don't mean yes, I don't mean maybe, I mean no. Are we clear?" Deputy Lamb's voice rang through the large house. It really was rather small, but ever since Elizabeth had died it seemed like a mansion. The Deputy turned to leave when Joe's voice interrupted him.
"No, we're not clear. As a matter of fact you couldn't be any less clear! Ever since mom died nothing has been clear." His voice continued to rise until he was screaming. "I like her."
"Joes-"
"She's nice to me!" Before he continued Jackson couldn't contain himself, everything had been building up, his wife's death, the sheriff's mysterious disappearance; the air force invading their town for god knows what and his son refused to be of any help. Without thinking he let loose a powerful punch. Joe, shoved back by the force of the blow slammed into the wall as his head hit the book case with a resounding crack. He fell to the floor in a heap, seemingly unconscious.
"Shit." How could he let himself lose control? He had never been an affectionate father but never had he abused his son before, not that he ever deserved it. Joseph was always a quiet kid, never argued, and never got into trouble unless he was dragged into it by his friends. If Joe was actually trying to fight back he really fucked up.
Joe's eyes opened a fraction. He groaned and blinked rapidly trying to adjust to the light.
"Oh my god, I'm so sorry. I didn't-"
As if Joe suddenly recalled what happened he shot up and ran for the door. He yanked it open and grabbed his bike. Before Jackson could even get outside Joe was gone.
(Joe's POV Present Tense)
I have to leave, I can't handle it anymore. I'm always taking shit from someone. If it's not my Dad it was Charles. If it's not Charles it's some other kids at school. Not any more though. I'm done. They can find another scape goat. Tonight is it. There's nothing left for me in Lillian or anywhere else. I'll be with my mother, the only one who ever actually cared. Tears are starting to fall freely now and everything is getting blurry. Part of my mind tells me that I'm not thinking straight, that I have a concussion. However, I ignore it; I know that if I stop I'll realize that it's right. Then I'll realize I have nowhere to go except back. So I keep pedaling. It has to be late because there aren't any cars on the road. Suddenly, I feel dizzy, my mouth is dry and my head is pounding. I wobble slightly on my bike but I just tighten my grip. I have to keep going.
"Where exactly am I going?" I ask aloud. There is someone in the distance riding a bike. Perhaps they went for a midnight ride like me? Wait, they're calling my name… I think. I force myself to pay attention again. My stomach lurched and I'm on the side of the road. My bike is tossed carelessly on the ground and I feel like I should go get it but I can't get my legs to move. Right, I was going somewhere. No, no, I was going to do something. What was it? Why can't I remember?
The voice is louder. It's a girl with blonde hair and she's next to me. The name Alice floats through my mind. Yes, that's it, Alice Daniard.
"Joe? Joe I need you to look at me." Her voice was soothing and calm. "Joe, you can't fall asleep. You have to look at me." Her voice became sterner with worry. I force my eyes open and I look into her deep blue ones.
"Shit, your eyes are dilated. We need to get you help. Joe I'm going to get you back home."
"No, my Dad, please…" I managed to whisper.
"I promise no one is going to hurt you while I'm around." I heard bikes starting to move followed by a thud while they were tucked into the side of the road. My arm is flung over her neck and we begin to make the trek back home.
