It always started with screaming.
Thomas slowly drug himself to a stand as the muffled sounds grew louder and louder still from downstairs. Things were being thrown and the distinct clatter of glass shattering against the ground had grown as familiar as the spring rains that crashed down outside his window. He didn't want to go to work today anymore then he had any other day the last year.
Pulling them off the pile on the floor of his dull gray room Thomas slowly tossed on his uniform. Wearing it felt almost as bad as the suit at work, though to be fair it was a lot safer. He ran a hand across his forehead, shoving a small stack of past due medical bills to the ground off his bathroom sink with the other. "Maybe if I just ignore it they'll go away?" Asked to the faded poster he'd plastered beside the cracked mirror.
He'd been worn down to the bone, ready to crack under the pressure. There were thick lines under his eyes from the 16 hour workdays, the life already faded from his blue eyes. "Ah hell that a gray hair?" A light pause. "Too young to be old already."
Shoving the thoughts out of his head, Thomas attempted to go about the daily routine, even as a downstairs window crashed, expletives hurled often as the silverware. He just put on a record and cranked up the volume till it all faded to background noise. The young mans voice echoed with the song as it rattled the windows allowing him a brief solace from the world, even with the loud pounding on the floor. Black hair slicked down with a liberal application of Pomade only to be hidden beneath his work hat, that dumb chicken glaring at him in the reflection.
The first song wasn't even over and he was already headed for the window. "No way in hell I'm heading into that mess." He spoke in a disappointed voice throwing the window open, allowing that cool air to flow into the room, along with a bit of the rain. "Plenty of time to worry about that later."
Stepping out onto the rain slicked roof, for a moment, he just stood there taking in his surroundings. Old houses, families, the quiet suburban life. It didn't suit him in the slightest, too quiet. Then again after he got back there weren't many places that could be loud enough for his taste. Making his way to the edge he took a quick hop to a nearby branch.
That Tulip tree out front was an eyesore, but it made hopping down to ground level a breeze, even in the rain.
The old house had seen better days. Paint was chipping off the sides, wood rot setting in, and sure enough the front window was smashed out again. Thomas let out a long sigh from the corner of his mouth. "Another day in paradise." Standing on end, stuck out of the ground was a sharp kitchen knife surrounded by broken glass.
It didn't take more then a moment to hide the knife away in his boot, keep it from getting swiped by some kid.
Sat on the front porch of their house curled up with her Chica plush was a little girl in a dark purple dress rocking quietly and trying to ignore the screaming from inside. She wasn't allowed outside without long sleeves. It kept the neighbors from asking too many questions.
Next to her an old bloodhound sat head in his paws doing its best to comfort her. Those worn down brown eyes shifting over towards Thomas a soft whimper escaping his muzzle.
At first Thomas tried to ignore it, just get to his car and drive. That wristwatch told him he was already cutting it close. Thanks to that old beagle he only made it about half way to the jalopy, before turning right back around.
His face softened as he strolled over, hand dipping into the pocket of his security jacket. "Now come on Susie, I know you're not out here crying." He leaned in low bending his knees while trying to put on a reassuring smile. The smile faltered on his face as he lowered a single hand onto her shoulder.
"Just another year of this and I'll get us both out of here." His eyes darted unable to quite match with hers as he spoke, voice just shy of cracking.
Thomas put his arms around his little sister, brought her in tight, and lifted her off the ground. Stood in the shadows of the wrap around porch she sat her head down against his shoulder clutching onto him. He lightly bounced her lightly in place. The music from upstairs, and the screaming indoors fading even as someone kicked in the door of his room. Where it once was he filled the void with soft singing, eyes closed, tough facade barely avoiding collapse.
After a while Susie drifted off slowly to sleep, and Thomas made his way to the porch swing. Setting her down onto the wood swing he took his jacket off, and wrapped it around her to keep warm.
"Just a little bit longer sis, just a little longer."
This house, this job, this family, they were killing him. It was a slow death, like a frog in a pot. It was the kind of thing you didn't really notice till it was too late. The problem was Thomas had noticed a long while back, he just couldn't manage to hop up off the stove.
A quick glance shared with the old beagle. "Hey Sarge, you old bastard" A quick lean down as he sat on the far edge of the swing kicking it back and fourth, just slightly enough for a comfortable rocking motion. He scratched behind the old dogs ears watching that back leg kick firmly against the warped porch.
"Keep an eye on her, make sure nothing happens while I'm at work." Sarge's tongue lolled out the side of his muzzel as he leaned firmly into the scratching. "I aint gonna come home and find out you were sleeping all day."
That pause in the affection caused the overweight beagle to look up into Thomas' eyes. "You keep her safe, and I'll have a big ol steak waiting for you." Those eyes brightening right up a smile crossing the muzzle.
One last pat fell onto the ol pups head before the young man pushed himself to a stand, moving quickly and quietly to try and not draw too much attention.
Thomas made his way down the yard stepping over a strange mound in the front yard, the dirt had already started to turn to mud. There wasn't any time to think about it, he was running late already. He just had to hope Bill wouldn't mind too much.
Pulling out his keys the young man practically skid to a halt on the wet gras, shoulders dropped and the smirk wiped right off his face. "Of course." An arm thrown up and then back down at his side, pointing to a long scratch ran down the roached Fairlane left in the driveway. It was three long scratches ran down the side of the car, like a bear or something of roughly the same size.
"Yeah very funny." He called out to the cul-de-sac, as if someone would step out and claim the damage. "Really got me good," Anger filling up as the rain fell down from the sky. "You know at least I tried to be the bigger person about the whole thing!"
A single hand slammed down onto the hood of his car a quiet expletive escaping his lips as he ran a hand through his hair slicking it down in the process. His head shook to either side before he threw himself into the drivers seat, slamming the door shut behind him. The drivers side window rattled in place, a crack forming in the glass. In the moment all he could do is set in the drive way and laugh, his head put down into his hands.
"Jessica" Spoken with a sigh as the key turned in the ignition, first time it died, the second it sputtered out then died again. By the third it finally groaned to life the car rattling slightly as he pulled his way down the drive, looking out through the main window.
Thomas just pretended not to even see him. It wasn't long before the house vanished off into the distance and out ahead it was just him, that rust bucket, and the open road. That whole car rattled about as if it was going to fall apart on the road, the only things holding it together ducktape and hope.
A light thump of his fist landed on the dash, the lights of that old radio flickered for just a moment before fading. A harder slam and they stuck on for just a moment longer. Finally he struck it with enough force it was a wonder he didn't dent the dash, and the lights whirred to life, and top 40 blared out over the airwaves.
"Stupid piece a..." He grumbled, as a voice came over the radio his hand drifted away from the nob while he focused on driving. They were talking about the weather, blathering on about more rain. "Yeah, that's what I need." He shook his head again traffic as bad as ever.
When he finally arrived he was over half an hour late. Though the clock on the car stopped working long before he'd even bought it he could always rely on his field watch. As he drove closer down the open streets of the big city something caught his attention.
"What the..." Thomas said leaning back slightly on the leather seat. His expression was one of shock as he pulled up into his parking spot to the side of the restaurant right next to the dumpster. People were moving in and out of the building in jumpsuits carrying out the old equipment and bringing in the brand spanking new.
Bill stood out in the rain, strutting like a peacock and shouting orders. He oversaw the whole process with a black umbrella clutched in one hand waving it about as if it were his conductors baton. The man oozed confidence in all the wrong ways.
They'd torn down the old sign over the weekend. In its place was a fancy new light-up sign with bright lights and bold colors. It was the kind of thing that screamed of its time, pastels and neons abound, too complicated for its own good.
"Chica's Party World, the happiest place on earth." Thomas said in a skeptical voice stepping out of the beat up car one hand still sat down onto the roof. "Can't say I'm a fan of the new design." The engine only idling for a short while before sputtering back to silence before he could even shut off the ignition.
"Tommy boy, old sport!" The rotund Bill called over turning on the balls of his heels. His accent was thick to the point of being hard to understand. "Thought you fell in you took so long." A wide smile from one ear to the other as he clasped a firm hand onto Thomas' shoulder strong enough to make it completely uncomfortable.
"I was about to get your parole officer on the horn, and ask him if you skipped town on us."
"Well, you know how traffic gets." Thomas placed his hands deep inside the pockets of his uniform pants, a flat expression on his face. "One minute it's clear the next you're stuck going an hour a mile." His fist clenching slightly in place even as he put on a friendly smile at his own joke. "Mind telling me what's happening round here?" A point over his shoulder to the new sign and a look given to the strange men wandering in and out of the building.
"Change ol sport, change is what's going on." A bright smile crossing his face a phony friendly facade that covered the true man beneath. "Boys upstairs decided it was time for a face lift, make the ol girl a little more appealing to the kids."
"This mean we're finally ditching the suits?" Thomas asked, a slim ray of hope that he wouldn't have to put on that chicken costume any time soon. "I mean don't get me wrong I love hopping inside a shambling death-trap as much as the next guy," A sarcastic chuckle escaping his lips as he gesticulated.
"I'll never understand what you have against those suits, ol sport." Disappointment hanging heavily in the mans voice as he spoke."They're perfectly safe as long as you don't get them wet" A pregnant pause in the conversation hung in the air, far longer than it was welcome as Bill directed about his workers like some grand dictator in charge of the world.
"I don't know, Tommy boy, sometimes I wonder how a chicken like you ever made it in the core." He shook his head. "Can't handle a few springs diggin in here or there, leave a scar or two." Motioning around his chest area."Second the V.C. started shooting I bet my arm you'd be off running back to your mommy for hugs and kisses."
That fist tightened harder, to the point his nails began to dig into his hand. Yet his face remained calm and friendly towards his boss. He even let out a light chuckle at the fun joke. "Look, all I'm saying is: They aint exactly the most OSHA friendly invention on the planet." He wasn't even thinking about the rain slicking down his uniform anymore, just how much he'd love to send his fist straight into that smug grin. "I'd feel better if we retired the damn things before someone gets hurt."
"The suits stay." Bill was adamant on the issue as he ever was. "Ol sport, let me educate you a bit on how business works." A high and mighty attitude sinking in. "See the customer pays to see Chica wandering around in there, waitin tables singing songs, and cracking jokes." That hand patting lightly on Thomas' shoulder as Bill spoke down to him. "We don't have her wandering around, we don't make money."
"Same goes if those kids see her lips aren't moving when you're in there playing them prerecorded clips." A faux compassion on his features. "The company isn't about to waste the money we pumped into getting them built." There was a lull in his speech as he peered right through Thomas for a long moment. "Especially after all these fancy new upgrades we're getting as part of the upcoming merger."
"You'll just have to learn to live with it, or" Another long almost painful pause. "Or you can find a different place in town willing to hire a felon."
Thomas took in a deep breath, moving his way past Bill and his charming personality. Soon as he was out of view near the entrance of the building he finally unclenched his fist, watching the indents in his skin slowly fill back in as he pushed the door to one side.
How much could really change in a single weekend?