Author's Note: I've had this story in my head for a while now and I'm sure you guys are all tired of romance stories too.
Disclaimer: You know the drill, I do not own Stand By Me, The Body, or any of the characters. I'm just a fan who loves to write.
"Wake the fuck up, shithead!" A low male voice bellowed as a bony fist rammed into the arm of sixteen-year-old Chris Chambers.
The force from the blow caused Chris to awake in pain and surprise; his throbbing arm feeling as if it was already beginning to bruise.
He looked up with his sleepy eyes and saw a tall, male figure looming over him. The man looked almost identical to Chris except for the yellow, rotting teeth, bulging beer belly, and dark eyes.
"What the hell did you do that for, pop?" There was a certain fear hanging in the back of his throat as he dared to swear at his own father.
"You fucking take my Winstons again you little faggot?" He began tearing Chris' room apart, searching high and low for his pack of missing cigarettes.
Chris looked at the small, bedside clock that read six-fifty. He had another forty minutes before he had to actually get up and get ready for school. But, his dad was angry and when his dad got angry there was nothing else anyone could do.
"You've been drinking this morning haven't you?"
His father mumbled incoherently and tore through his closet.
Mr. Chambers- Lenny- was an alcoholic and on top of that, short-tempered. He had always been that way ever since he was a child when his own father used to beat him.
Chris rolled his blue eyes and flung the ratty, brown covers off of his small, creaky bed. He stood in only his blue boxers while the breeze from the cold, October morning, blew through the cracks in his window.
"No, I didn't, dad, and would you stop going through all of my shit?" He went to grab his father's arm.
But he was no match for his larger counterpart. As soon as his hand had touched his father's skin, the six-foot-four man flung Chris back on top of his bed.
Punches were thrown into Chris' face as he cried out in panic, "ow! Stop dad, you're hurting me!"
"Not until you give me my cigarettes, you fucker!"
The metallic taste of blood filled Chris' mouth as his father continued to beat him. His right eye throbbed and as another fist slammed into his head, he began to feel faint while his vision fuzzed.
In the hopes of getting him to finally stop, Chris lied, "ok, ok! I have your Winstons! Just please, stop."
His father bolted to a sudden stop and stood up; his breath was loud and heavy.
Chris presented his own, newly bought, pack of cigarettes to his father in his shaking hand.
Looking him dead in the eyes, his father swiped the packet from Chris and grabbed him by the shoulder.
His grip was firm and threatening, "don't you ever take my stuff again. Do you understand?"
Chris looked away and nodded slightly; the blood still sitting in his mouth.
His father began to leave the room but stopped just before the doorway and looked back, "because if I catch you next time, I'll kill you."
Chris was silent and didn't move until he couldn't hear his father's footsteps anymore. He got up from his bed and walked over to the small, busted mirror hanging above his wooden dresser.
Already he could see that his right eye was beginning to swell and soon enough, it would be blacker than night. He took a raggedy, white shirt from the floor and wiped the velvet red blood from his face. His lower lip was busted through the middle and he had a small gash on the left side of his forehead.
"What a great way to start off a new week of school. This'll definitely have everyone talking…" he mumbled to himself.
Every person living in Castle Rock knew of the Chambers family. They knew that Lenny Chambers was an abusive drunk; they knew that Chris' brother used to be a part of the meanest, nastiest gang in town and they also knew that Chris was going to turn out just like the rest of his family.
Soon enough, Chris' older brother was standing in the doorway to his bedroom. He had a menacing look on his face and he held a pack of Winstons in his hand.
"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" His voice hissed lowly.
Although he wasn't Chris' eldest brother (Frank was spending his time in county jail on rape and assault charges) Richard Chambers- or as everyone liked to call him Eyeball- was considered the oldest brother in the house. Eyeball and Chris had an abysmal relationship. They loathed each other and had for a very long time. Chris tried to avoid his brother at all costs while Eyeball went out of his way to make Chris' life a living hell. He even let his friend, Ace Merrill, almost slit his brother's throat once.
Up until he turned twenty, Eyeball was a part of the teenage gang called The Cobras. Run by Ace, the Cobras would spend their time drinking, smoking, fucking, and causing as much trouble as they could. Everyone in town feared those involved with the gang and it was easy to see why. The Cobras didn't just walk the walk; they could sure as hell talk too. Rumours had once circulated around that they had killed a kid for denting Ace's car.
Even though Eyeball wasn't a part of the gang anymore, he still had the jagged, razor-blade-made tattoo signifying his membership on his right arm.
"The fuck are those doing in your hand?" Chris asked furiously.
Eyeball took a cigarette out of the pack and placed it in his mouth, "somebody had to take the fall and it sure as shit wasn't going to be me."
"You asshole. You stole dad's cigarettes and made him think it was me!" Chris threw his bloodied shirt on the floor and charged toward his brother.
With his fists clenched he grabbed Eyeball by the neck of his black t-shirt and tried to yank him down to eye-level. Unfortunately, Eyeball was stronger and instead of falling forward he merely pushed Chris onto the cold, hardwood floor.
"Pussy," he said as his cigarette wiggled up and down.
Chris grimaced and stood back up. He dug through his pile of clothes and found a clean white wife-beater, dark-green, collard t-shirt, and dark-blue jeans. He made his way into the bathroom and took a quick shower. He then changed into his outfit and cleaned up his face the best he could. His eye was now blue while his lip was inflated. He had managed to hide the cut on his forehead with his somewhat shaggy, dirty-blonde hair.
Making his way down the rotting steps of the upstairs, he passed his unconscious father lying on the puke green sofa as a bottle of rum was gripped in his hand.
Chris tiptoed into the kitchen and saw a frail-looking woman sitting at a small, wobbly table; a cup of coffee cupped in her dainty hands. She was simply staring at the design of the black and white-tiled flooring.
"Good morning beautiful." Chris kissed the top of her greyed hair and grabbed a shiny red apple from the glass bowl in the middle.
Denise Chambers was only a girl of twenty when she became pregnant with Frank. There was a time where she was young, beautiful and, happy. She thought she had found her prince charming and had married him within two months of meeting. However, unlike most fairy-tales, this one didn't have a happy ending. She soon became her husband's own personal punching bag and four kids later, it was too late to leave. Her life that was once so full of hope and promises was now void of any of that. Her once beautiful blonde hair had now turned dull and grey, her pink cheeks became thin and hollow, and her pale, blue eyes looked perpetually lost
Snapping out of her trance, she looked to Chris. A frown creased the edges of her lips as she saw her son's freshly beaten face.
"Oh, Christopher," she whimpered as her hand caressed his face.
He winced as she touched near his eye, "it's okay ma; I've had worse before."
Indeed, Chris' father had beaten him in much worse ways. When Chris was only thirteen, his father pushed him down a flight of stairs causing him to fracture four of his ribs. He was out of school for a long time and had to take summer courses in order to catch up with his classmates.
"I'll be okay. Hey, what time is it?"
His mother looked to the crooked clock above the stove and sighed, "It's eight o'clock. I better get going. Boss said if I'm late again, I'll be fired."
As she grabbed her black tattered purse, she gripped Chris by the shoulder and pulled him in for a kiss on the cheek.
Exiting through the sliding door, she stopped for a second and turned to him, "I need you to pick up Jenny from school today. I took a double shift again and I won't be home until after dinner."
Chris nodded in agreement and took a final bite from his apple. He then threw his backpack over his shoulder and headed for school.
"Chris!" A small voice shouted from behind Chris as he stepped onto the grassy knoll just outside of Castle Rock High.
"Hey! Gordo," he turned to see his best friend, Gordie Lachance, awkwardly running in order to catch up to him.
Panting, Gordie stood beside his friend; his bean pole legs were shaking so much that Chris thought they were going to fall off.
He flicked a strand of his short, brown hair off of his forehead and looked at Chris with his wide, brown eyes. "Jesus, what the hell happened to you?"
Gordie and Chris had been best friends ever since pre-school. They grew up together and although they were different in both of their looks and personalities (Gordie was shy, skinny, and awkward while Chris was blunt, husky, and tough) they shared a connection. Gordie understood Chris in ways that no other person ever could. Both of their families were broken. Gordie's brother, Denny, died in a car accident when he was only twelve. It had been four years and the pieces still hadn't been put back together. Like Chris father, Gordie's was neglectful of his son too. In fact, Gordie considered Chris to be more of a father than his own. The two stuck together through thick and thin; they loved each other.
Chris shrugged and kept walking, "who do you think?"
Gordie followed closely behind, "what'd you do this time?"
"More like what didn't I do?" Chris complained as he pulled open the large doors leading into the school.
The two teens arrived at their side-by-side lockers and opened them to retrieve their books for morning classes.
Both Gordie and Chris had been in, what was known as the "Academic Program" throughout all of middle and high school.
"Eyeball stole the old man's Winstons and blamed it on me. So now Eyeball`s got a new pack of cigarettes and I`ve got nothing but a busted up face."
Gordie shook his head in disdain, "he's such an asshole. I mean, he's in his twenties, still lives at home, and can't afford to buy his own pack of cigarettes. It's pathetic, really."
"Tell me about it," Chris grimaced as he closed his locker shut. With their books tucked beneath their arms, the two made their way down the hall. Suddenly, they were stopped by a troop of people heading in the opposite direction.
The group were all donned in the same white and purple leather jackets that read "Cavaliers" over the heart. They were the Varsity football team of the school and were recently announced state champions for another year. Everyone who was anyone wanted to be a part of that group; they were the cool kids, the kids your parents wanted you to become, the kids that no matter how hard you wished, would still end up owning you in the future.
You were heavily admired by the entire town if you had a spot on the team; this included being the measly water boy.
The leader of this group was Ian Michaelson. He was your typical suave, good-looking Casanova. At least, for a seventeen-year-old. His light, brown hair was always perfectly slicked back showcasing his bright green eyes and chiseled jaw. Every girl loved him and every guy hated him-especially Chris.
Ian had had it out for Chris ever since elementary school and for rather arbitrary reasons. You see, Ian was rich and Chris was not. Therefore, Ian felt it his civil duty to put Chris in his "place". All throughout grade school, Ian and his buddies would bully Chris. It wasn't until middle school when Chris finally stood up to him, ultimately kicking his ass into next week, when Ian stopped.
"Hey Gordie, ol' buddy ol' pal!" Ian wrapped his tick arm tightly around Gordie's neck and pulled him into his chest.
Unfortunately, Ian still picked on Gordie
Gordie's face became beet red as he gasped for air. He tried pushing himself out of Ian's headlock but failed.
Chris pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes, "let go of him, Michaelson." He said defensively.
Ian refused to acknowledge Chris or his request and continued taunting Gordie, "listen, I was wondering if you would be so kind as to do my history paper? Two thousand words and it's due tomorrow."
Gordie finally became free and stood back up straight. He smoothed out his skewed hair and scoffed at Ian's demand.
"What makes you think I would ever do that for you?"
Ian moved in close to Gordie, their noses almost touching. Chris clenched his fists as Ian threatened, "because if you don't, I'll make sure that your remaining days at this school are a living hell."
Chris got between the two boys and looked at Ian, "don't you dare threaten my best friend, asshole."
Ian stood his ground firmly but Chris could see a pang of fear in the boy's eyes.
Without saying a word, Ian backed away from Chris and into the safety of his group of friends.
"Nice face, Chambers." He mocked as the boys around him cackled.
Ian glanced at the group and made a swift motion to leave; they formed a line and followed their leader down the hall. The last one in line narrowed his crystal blue eyes and pointed at the two boys.
"You two better watch your backs." He said lamely while slightly tripping over his untied shoelace.
Chris and Gordie rolled their eyes, "shut up, Vern."
Vern frowned and ran to catch up with the others while the two stood alone at their lockers.
"I can't believe he became a jock", chuckled Chris.
Gordie smirked and agreed, "yeah, and it's weird because he's still the same old Vern; he's just, skinnier and taller."
Vern Tessio used to be best friends with Chris and Gordie. He was always seen as the joke of the group because of his goofy expressions, paranoid personality, and pudgy exterior. He was a good friend, though. He made people laugh despite it sometimes being unintentional and he did care for others.
Unfortunately, the bonds of friendship couldn't withstand the changes of school and by the time he reached high school, Vern had lost all of his baby fat in exchange for muscle, grew a few inches, and joined the football team. Once there, he became popular and left Gordie and Chris alone in the dust.
The two boys shrugged and began walking down the busy hallway as the bell rang to start the school day.
