In math, a gross equals 144, and murder- at least the type our heroes are involved in- tends to be gross, so it works on both ends.
Some of these will be angsty, some fluffy, some just plain fun. For the most part it's not a continuous story, but I may tie a few themes together. Please let me know what you think, because if no one's interested, well, there's no reason to waste my time or yours.
Gum :)
"Child abuse casts a shadow the length of a lifetime." Herbert Ward
Mature
It was happening again.
Thirteen year-old Seeley Booth buried himself under his covers, wrapping his pillow around his head in an effort to block out the noise. It was no good though. Through the thin walls of the apartment atop his dad's barber shop, he could hear his parents' argument like they were standing right next to him.
His dad, Seeley could tell, had been out drinking and apparently something wasn't exactly the way he liked it when he'd gotten home, because he had picked a fight with Mom almost immediately. This was pretty much par for the course in the Booth household on a Friday night, but Seeley still didn't like it.
The volume escalated, and he was sure everyone from here to the Vet could hear them, so he slipped out from under the covers and got out of bed. Quietly, so that he wouldn't wake up Jared, he eased open their window and squeezed out of it and onto the awning above the shop's entrance. The city was pulsing with life, but it was preferable to the war being raged inside the apartment, and it soothed him.
The warmth of the awning embraced him as he stretched out on it, even as the cool night air whipped around him. He thought, not for the first time, how easy it would be to shimmy down the drainpipe and disappear into the city.
A sharp slap reached his ears through the open living room window, effectively ending the argument, and he remembered why he stuck around. Friday night fights always led to his mom covering up new bruises Saturday mornings and Seeley needed to be there for her- and for Jared. He wished he was older and stronger and could make his dad take him seriously, but every time he stepped in his dad swatted him away like some pesky fly. Last week the older man had given him three bruised ribs and laughed in Seeley's face after the teenager's voice had cracked while telling his dad to stop.
Sighing heavily, he moved back toward the window. His ribs still ached from the week before, but he had to do something. Maybe one of these weeks his dad would stop or maybe he wouldn't, but Seeley would be damned if he would let him get away with it.