Blue sky spread over everything. Craig could see it reflected in the car windows, in the windshield. The reflections of the tree branches and the blue sky running onto the glass, and he almost couldn't tell where the real sky ended and the reflection started. Little details. The dashboard with all the little buttons for everything, CD player, heater, AC. The white leather seats with the thick thread, the head rests for each seat, he felt the leather with his palm and it was getting hot from the sun.
Snippets of memory, flashes of things like switching the channel on the T.V. too fast. Each one came and pummeled him like a quick punch to the stomach, and he moaned. The front door had just swallowed Joey up. Seems he'd been in there for hours.
It was winter, and the light was cold, distant. It couldn't warm anything. The thick and wet snow clung to the edge of his jeans, to the bottom of his school bag where he had set it down in the snow. His father's presence so suddenly in the room, he hadn't even known he was home.
"Oh, uh, hi, dad-" The sentence cut off in his father's quick sarcasm, and he'd come at him so fast.
He could see the edge of the lawn against the black tar of the driveway, the black and green such a contrast. He drummed his fingernails against the glass.
It was a late night. He could smell the sharp smell of vodka. Felt the thinness of the pajama material against his body, and laying on his bed he was afraid. Undefined, free floating fear, the dark seeming to press against the windows.
Bored, almost bored sitting in the car. He hadn't wanted to come. He imagined he could see his father and Joey inside the house through the windows, vague shadows. He breathed on the car window and saw the spot of fog his breath had created.
And his wrists hurt, squeezed so hard, and he was thrown to the floor. Looking up, scrambling away from the blows that would come. One swift kick and he was curled up on the floor.
Joey came out with a suitcase filled with his belongings. He could see his father standing in the doorway, his casual button up shirt open at the collar. He had that sad and thoughtful look on his face. Craig couldn't bear to look at him, feeling guilty. Feeling that this whole thing was his fault. He thought his father must hate him. The thought made him feel cold.
"Ready?" Joey said after he put the suitcase into the back seat.
"Yeah," Craig said, shivering despite the warm day.
On his stomach on the bed, and the belt came down. It made a sound through the air, like a whistling of air, and with that sound Craig could see the arc the belt would make as it swung down. He'd been fighting, maybe struggling at one point but by this time he'd given up, and the belt would hit his skin with the sharp sting. He'd squeeze his eyes shut and suck in his breath, afraid to move.
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"Snake, Jesus, has this been stressful," Joey said, popping open a beer. Snake tipped back his bottle of beer and nodded.
"Where is he now?" Snake said, tugging at the edge of the label on his bottle.
"He's asleep. He's always asleep. He doesn't eat all that much. He's so tense, I mean, you can just see it. I think more is going on," Joey said, and swallowed nearly half his beer in one swig.
"More? What do you mean, more?"
"I don't know. He's pretty screwed up…I don't know. I just feel like there's something he's not telling me,"
