an: Chapter two. Thank you guys for all the reviews! Enjoy. Edited as of 10/23/12
Disclaimer: Anyone you recognize isn't mine.
6:45pm.
Daddy's home.
Emmett looks out his window to see a pair of headlights shine on to the garage door. As soon as the engine shuts off, he shuts the blinds. He makes his way down the hall, but stops at the top of the stairs to sit. He watches as his father walks past him, fists clenched and all.
There's a deep growl behind him, vibrating in the wolf's throat. She comes from the back of his mind. No one saw her walking with him, just like no one sees her now. No one but him. Her black fur meshes into the dark hallway, but he can see her yellow eyes and if he narrows his, he can see her fangs, ready to sink into flesh.
She nudges the boy's arm as he tells her to keep quiet.
This gains Devan's interest and he back-tracks to the foot of the stairs to see his son try to hide something behind his back. "Emmett? Come down and eat."
He often has the urge to slap some sense into his boy, but he only an urge. He wouldn't dare hit his own flesh and blood. Someone might talk.
In the world of CEO's and Finance, the Ostlund name is a powerful one. He has dozens of replaceable employees working under him in the city, and he won't have it any other way.
On the outskirts of town, at home, he has his loving wife and bright son. At least, that's what he tells himself.
His loving wife is quite disobedient. She lies and she talks back, she doesn't clean well enough and she's too whiny in the bedroom. His son is a freak of nature, a fuck up at the age of eight. He has no friends and he doesn't like sports. He can't catch a ball and he doesn't talk.
"Well say something!" Devan says, slamming his hand down on the table. It's only after his mother jumps in her seat does he realize his father is talking to him.
"Do you have to talk to him like that?" Casey asks in a way she could easily regret. And she certainly does when her husband glares at her from across the table. Emmett watches this display of dominance and how his mother than has been holding her head up longer than usual. But she always drops it in the end.
"I can talk to him however I want. He doesn't need to be coddled anymore, Case. He needs to grow the fuck up." She's pushing a set of buttons she should not be anywhere near, but she can't stop herself.
"He's eight years old!" She throws out.
The boy fiddles with an unnecessary steak knife under the table. If he could, he'd push it deep into his dad's throat and stop him from saying another word. He imagines doing so as his parents bicker. There's hardly any blood, no more than when he scrapes his knee on the blacktop at school. And if it hurts his dad that bad, his mom could kiss it and make it better, like she used to. But he isn't sure he cares if it hurts him.
Sometimes it takes much more to provoke him, and sometimes nothing at all, but tonight Casey has given the perfect amount of disrespect. Emmett adores his mother for standing up to him, but he wishes she could have just kept her mouth shut now.
He's always wondered why it's so easy to back his mother into a corner. It's like she's caught in between fight or flight. And as he watches his dad shake her by her shoulders, he wonders why she doesn't just stop him. He wonders how she can allow him to do this to her, and he wonders about the many ways he could stop him.
His heart feels like it's ready to burst when he hears his mother's strength diminish, and that's when he sinks into the dimly lit hallway. He can hear her crying and pleading with him, and the flesh-against-flesh sounds that follow. He wonders what color his mother's skin will be in the morning.
Emmett wonders too much.
She's sitting awkwardly at her kitchen table, clinging to her mug of tea and only taking small sips. Her mind is almost as dependent on the caffeine-laden drink as it is on her husband. She doesn't know why she can't feel pretty unless he tells her so, or why she believes him when he says she's worthless.
She hasn't been this sore in a while. She knows he is stressed and likely to take that out on her, but there are times when she doesn't want to care about that. There are times where she wants to be the one being cared for. She wants to be doted on and she doesn't want to flinch at the raise of a hand. But her guilt gets the best of her and she feels ungrateful. Devan has given her everything: marriage, a beautiful home, and a child. She owes him. Casey knows he is the only who wants her, has wanted her, and he's the only one who has stuck by her. She likes his touch when he's being honest, and she had always liked his perfect smile.
But even she'll admit she hates that its this hard, that she's lost something she can't quite put her finger on. She hates that any attempt to even name this missing piece ends in failure. She hates that nearly anything she tries ends this way.
She ignores this, much like she has always done. Her thoughts are irrelevant.
Not one cares about her missing pieces. Not even her.
