Craig stayed in the living room, the room getting dim around him, the T.V. going and going. He thought about what Sean said, how it wouldn't get better. He knew that. He'd known that for awhile. He flipped through the channels, not able to focus on any of the shows. Squawking people hawking different things that didn't matter. News, depressing shit. Sitcoms and canned laughter.
He just didn't have the energy to run away again, to leave again. What would prevent his father from just coming after him? He'd always done it before and then the beatings were worse. Craig rubbed his side, winced at the tenderness that refused to fade. How many times could his blood vessels be expected to knit themselves back together?
He should leave, he knew that. He could go to Joey's. Joey said he could go there, it would be okay. But there was this mental block, this fear of the repercussions that was stopping him. He still wanted to believe that things could be okay.
It was getting late. He just let it get later and later, not moving, his eyes tracking the tiny people trapped in the glass of the T.V. screen. He didn't have the energy to run away again. He didn't have the energy to do anything. His eyelids got heavy, the sounds on the T.V. making less sense, becoming a comfortable babble in the background of his mind.
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"Craig!" Craig bolted awake at the sound of his name. He'd slept in the living room, slept in his clothes, the T.V. still blaring away. He felt stiff from laying on the couch, felt uncomfortable being in his clothes all night. The sunlight pouring into the room was like an incrimination.
He looked up at his father, barely awake, barely comprehending that it was tomorrow.
"Dad, uh, hi-"
"Have you been down here all night?" Albert said, loosening his tie. Craig saw that look in his eyes, that narrowed eyed look that could mean trouble.
"Uh, well, yeah-"
"With the T.V. on all night?" The questions were taking on that sarcastic tone that worried Craig, that preceded some of the worst episodes with his father.
"Yeah, I guess I just fell asleep-" He was sitting, looking up at his father. He felt the fear like ants crawling over his skin. He wanted to get away.
"Jesus, Craig! Wasting all this electricity, sleeping in your clothes?" His father was staring at him incredulously. Craig was backing up, moving away from him on the couch. He saw the stairs from the corner of his eye and he was ready to run to them if he had to. He'd run, lock himself in his room.
"Uh, yeah, I'm, um, I'm sorry…" Always apologizing. Always begging forgiveness. Always second guessing his actions. It was giving him a headache. It was making his stomach hurt.
"Turn off the T.V. Go upstairs," Albert said, suddenly dismissing him. Craig let out his pent up breath, the relief so acute as to actually be felt, his muscles loosening. He grabbed for the remote and flipped the T.V. off and then he went upstairs, almost running up the stairs.
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In his room, the locks locked. He wasn't taking any chances. He didn't trust his father, not anymore. He'd beat him over leaving the T.V. on all night. He licked his lips and thought about gong to Joey's house again. How nice would that be? How nice would it be to not have to worry like this all of the time, every second of every day?