Summary: Charlie O'Neill only wanted to look at his dad's gun. That's all.
Warnings: None really, unless you count events leading up to canon character death
Author's Note: Written for the prompt, "[character] at age 10", for the Last Author Standing challenge on LiveJournal.
The Key
The key was still there. Charlie O'Neill knew he'd be in trouble if he went through with it, but he still reached for that key, his fingers brushing up against the cool metal. His parents would kill him, he thought, but it was right there. He took one more look around, then grabbed it and turned to the cabinet on the other side of the room. His mom was out in the garden, if he was really quick, she would never know.
He went over to the cabinet, excited and scared, looking back toward the door one last time, before putting the key into the lock. It opened easily, which was good, but he still had to stand on tiptoes to reach the gun.
"Cool," he said, as he turned the pistol over to get a better look. It was even neater up close. He pointed it toward the window, aiming at a pretend bad guy
"Charlie!"
He nearly dropped the gun in his fright. Crap, he thought, as he stared at his mother. He was in trouble now. She glared at him from the door of the room and Charlie briefly thought about making a run for it.
"What's the matter with you?" his mother yelled as she came over and snatched the gun from his hand. "You know better!"
Charlie nodded his head in agreement, too scared to say anything. He just wanted to see it, that's all. Why was that so bad?
"Don't you ever," his mother said, her hand trembling as she placed it over her heart, "Ever touch this thing again, do you hear me?"
Charlie nodded again, his own heart beating rapidly from the scare. "I just wanted to see it," he said, hoping to make her understand.
"You're too young," she snapped. She put the gun back in the cabinet and locked the door. He watched her put the key in her pocket, knowing that she'd find another place to hide it so that he wouldn't get his hands on it again. It didn't really matter though. He always found it anyway.
"I won't shoot it," he tried again. "I just want to look at it, that's all."
"No, Charlie. It's too dangerous."
"But "
"I said no!"
He thought about arguing his case, but he could tell she was too angry. Instead, he glared back at her, wishing he was older so that he could do whatever he wanted.
"I mean it, Charlie. Never touch that gun again."
"All right," he shouted back at her. He just wanted to see it, what's so bad about that?
"Don't you take that tone of voice with me," she said with a frown. Charlie knew he had pushed too far, but it was too late now. "Your father is going to hear about this tonight," she said, "And you're grounded."
"What?" Oh great. Now he's grounded, and all because he was looking at his dad's gun. "That's not fair!"
"I don't care, Charlie. You know better." He did know better, but that's not the point. He was only looking at the gun. He didn't shoot it or anything. He made a growling noise in his throat as he ran out of the room. This was so not fair!
"What happened?" Jared asked. Charlie knew what he was talking about, but he didn't want his friend to think of him as a loser. He took a bite of his pizza to stall, but Jared was insistent. "Did you get it?"
"My mom caught me," Charlie said, still angry about that. And to make matters worse, his father had yelled at him too when he got home last night. Charlie hated it when his dad was mad at him.
"Aw man. Rotten luck."
Charlie had to agree with his friend, but there was nothing for him to do about it now. He'll just have to forget about ever seeing that gun again. His parents had argued about the gun even after Charlie went back to his room when dinner was over. His mother wanted to get rid of it, but his father told her not to worry. He'd hide the key in a better place.
"Are you going to try again?" Jared wanted to know. "Maybe you could bring it to my house."
"Are you crazy? Your mom will kill me!" Charlie shook his head in frustration as he thought about it. "They hid the key again. It will take forever to find it this time."
"Nah, my mom won't mind," Jared said, his mouth full of pizza. "My dad lets me see his gun all the time."
Charlie took another bite, wishing he had parents like Jared did. That would be so cool.
He found the key a year later. His baseball rolled underneath the desk and he saw the key taped to the bottom of a drawer when he crawled underneath it. He ignored the key at first, knowing that he was better off without it. He still remembered his parent's reaction from the last time he used it. He backed away from the desk and stood there, throwing the ball up toward the ceiling and catching it, debating what he should do about that key.
Jared would have to stop calling him a wuss every time they talked about guns and the other kids would think of Charlie as way cool. All he had to do was look at it. It wouldn't hurt to just look at it.
He went to the window and saw that his mother was sitting on the stairs by the road, waiting for his father to come home. He didn't have much time if he was going to do this. He ran back to the desk, pulled the key from its hiding place and unlocked the cabinet. He marveled at his find, reaching out to touch it, the handle smooth and cool. With a final look around, he picked it up.
Surely it wouldn't hurt to touch it, just this once.