Back in the old room. He didn't think he'd be back here. The window he'd gone out of, throwing his packed bag before him. Ready to go. 'I'm out of here, tonight,' he'd told Sean. Gave too much away, asking that transparent question about his parents hitting him. He'd wanted Sean to say yeah, his dad hit him, had hit him all the time and he'd had to leave. Couldn't take it anymore. Wanted it to be the same with someone because he'd felt so alone. Felt like it was just him getting the shit beat out of him all the time.
Back here and he had to admit his dad was behaving himself. Hadn't even raised his voice, not once. Maybe that anger management shit worked. Maybe.
He couldn't relax here. Always on edge. Too soon. It was too soon to be back here. It didn't matter about anger management and promises and his dad telling Joey not to worry. He fell asleep into uneasy dreams, the belt arcing through the air again. He'd never forget that sound. Hands up to ward off the blows, broken questions and pleas, no way to get through his dad's anger.
"Work's been really stressful," he had said the day he came to pick up his stuff, as though that was any excuse. Work was stressful? School was stressful, too, especially a new school. Life was stressful. So what? That gave him the right to, to…do whatever he wanted to?
Worst of all, in a way, was the way he couldn't remember all of it. He'd wake up sometimes with bruises, the dark purple of fingerprints on his arms, the dark purple on his ribs like a shadow and he didn't remember. Couldn't remember it. His dad fake cheerful, sorry underneath, giving him money or buying him something expensive like he always did after a beating and he didn't remember. The ache and the pain the only sign, so he knew it had happened.
And he'd thought, then, waking up hurt and mad and he knew he'd had the shit kicked out of him and he could sort of remember it in a way. In a weird, non-linear way. It was what happened when his eyes were squeezed shut. He'd thought he might be going crazy.
Awake again, this room worse because of the time he'd been away. At Joey's house, at first, he'd just sat there real calm, and it felt weird as the anxiety he'd had went away. It felt nice not having to watch Joey so closely, to have such tight control of his actions and reactions like he did with his father.
The carpeting on the stairs muffled sounds and Craig didn't hear his father come up. He tapped on the door and cracked it open.
"Craig? You awake, kiddo?" His voice soft, so if he was asleep he wouldn't wake him.
"Yeah,"
"Listen, I just wanted to tell you, I'm glad you're back. I've missed you. I love you. I, I just wanted you to know,"
"Yeah, uh, I love you, too, dad,"
He smiled at him then, his dad's tight sort of sad smile, and he closed the door. Craig heard the metal thing in the doorknob click, and he could see the shadows of the trees on the walls, could see the roof of the porch outside his window. His stomach felt kind of twisted. He didn't like being here. He liked it better at Joey's.