Chapter 8
Disclaimer: Robert Zemeckis and Bob Gale own Back to the Future, not me.
~December 3rd, 1955~
"It seems as though the snow is quickly progressing into a storm," Doc muttered from his position at the window, the snow rapidly descending to the mounds of already present on his property. As the wind howled, pressing up against the walls of the mansion, Doc pulled the curtains closed. He turned to his friend, observing the concerned expression he had. "I thought we could of taken him to the hospital tonight, but perhaps doing so in the morning would be best, Marty."
"Is he gonna be ok overnight?"
"I'm sure he'll be fine. I'll check on him later in the n-" The scientist was cut off by the doorbell ringing, producing a frown from him. "I wonder who could possibly be out in this weather?"
He exited the room, leaving behind Marty with the unconscious Tannen. After briefly glancing over at the other, he followed his friend, a deep gnawing in the pit of his stomach. The door was swung open, the wind louder than before, and snow drifted into the building. The 17-year-old froze, when Irving Tannen was revealed to be in the doorway, a bulky trench coat over his frame, looming over Doc. The blond stepped back a few feet, visibly grimacing. Marty didn't need to step closer, to know that he had an air of alcohol on him, likely overwhelming to the senses. Doc cleared his throat, as the taller man's eyes roved around the room behind Doc. "Irving Tannen. What a surprise."
"W-Where is he?" He slurred out.
"Whom are you speaking of?" The scientist replied, calm in the face of the drunken abuser.
"Y-You know damn well who, Brown. Where my son be?" He stepped over the threshold of the mansion, clearly agitated.
"Your son isn't here, Irving."
"D-Don't you call me by my name! Where the hell is he?!" He bellowed, spit flying from his lips, causing Doc to flinch.
Marty's knees shook, as the Texan staggered towards him, glaring. Doc was by his side in an instant, partially standing in front of Marty. His calm demeanor melting into one of fierce protectiveness. "Tannen, I would advise you to step away from my nephew."
"I-I saw you with him. Where's my boy?" He breathed in Marty's direction, the 17-year-old feeling ill at the distant smell of alcohol.
"Tannen, I'm going to have to ask you to leave." Doc smoothly interrupted, noticing Marty's pallor, and trembling knees.
"I-I want my son, now, Brown! I know you have him!" He begin to step towards the living room, yet was blocked by the scientist. Doc crossed his arms over his chest, drawing himself upwards, in order to appear larger than he was. He didn't flinch this time, when spit was flung into his face by the yelling. "Get outta the way, Brown!"
"This is my household, Tannen, and I demand you leave the premises this instant!" Doc had raised his voice and Marty knew he was beginning to grow irritated.
Irving's shoulders heaved, wavering in place momentarily, before pointing his fingers at the other man. "I'll call the cops on your ass, if you don't give back my son. He's 15-years-old and I'm his father!"
"H-He's seventeen," Marty finally found his voice, Irving's head snapping towards him. He paled further, gulping at the sight, before hesitantly continuing on to defend the bully. "Y-You don't even know his age."
Irving advanced on him, pointing the finger at his face. "Y-You're a smart ass, just like my son."
"Irving, my father owned quite a few guns, and if you don't back off, you're going to come face-to-face with one." The blond threatened, approaching him.
"Brown, I have a shotgun myself, from my grandfather, and I'm sure I can reach for my pocket quicker than you."
Marty's eyes widened, the image of Doc being shot at by the terrorists. His friend didn't appear frightened though, stepping closer, and hissing at the older Tannen. "If you pull out that weapon, the neighbors will inform the police of the noise, and be here in an instant."
His eyes flickered between the pair, appearing to contemplate the words spoken to him. The hand that been hovering over his trench coat, dropped, before nodding to himself. "A-Alright...I'm going...I'm going...you tell that little shit though, that it's over. He can't return to my house, see his grandmother ever again, or have any of his stuff back. His room is in my house, so anything in there is now mine, you hear me?"
Doc didn't answer the question, simply stared him down. "Tannen, I would appreciate it if you removed yourself from my property now."
Irving glared hatefully at him, before heading back to the front door. He's eyes twitched towards the living room, before he slammed the front door shut behind himself, heading off in a drunken weave to his vehicle parked sideways in the driveway. He nearly tripped over a mound of snow, before ripping open the door, and seating himself inside. After a beat, he zoomed off into the storm, disappearing through the snow. Marty visibly relaxed and Doc placed a hand on his shoulder. "Are you alright, Marty?"
"Uh...yeah...just..." His knees felt weak, nearly collapsing beneath him. "I-I need to sit..."
"You look pale. Here, let me take you to the kitchen an-" Doc reached out and gripped onto his arm. He frowned, before reaching out another hand to touch his forehead. "Marty, you feel warm. Are you alright?"
"I-I don't know...kinda feel weak, you know?" The brunet mumbled, as the scientist guided him to the kitchen, and sat him at the table.
"How long have you felt like this?"
"Not really long...just felt sorta...off today, but I don't feel that bad right now. I don't really feel hot or cold right."
"You must be in the beginning stages then. Perhaps you should have some medicine before going to bed."
"Sure...is...do you think his dad is gonna come back tonight?"
"I hope not, but to be safe I'm going to lock the doors tonight."
Marty's eyes widened. "Wait, you haven't been locking your doors?"
"No, I don't see a reason to. The rate of robbery is quite low in Hill Valley and many are hesitant to approach the property," The image of the newspaper article he had seen in Doc's garage in the future came to mind. The burnt remains of the mansion, surrounded by the firefighters haunted him. Doc had explained he had accidentally done it himself, yet Marty believed someone else had sent fire instead. He had seen it enough times though, to know it occurred August 2nd of 1962. Should he tell Doc? "Marty?"
He shook away the thoughts. "Doc, can you just start locking the doors all the time now?"
"I suppose if it makes you feel better, Marty. I think for now though, you should head off to bed."
"Yeah...ok..." He glanced back to the living room, before allowing his best friend to guide him to his bedroom.
~December 4th, 1955~
"GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME!"
Marty was jolted awake, with a gasp. He blinked in confusion, at the distant yelling, and Doc's slightly raised voice answering. The brunet shivered, a chill running down his spine. He attempted to sit up, unfortunately overcome with a wave of dizziness. He flopped his head back down onto the bed beneath him, squeezing his eyes shut. He had to be running a fever by now, considering the odd change in temperature. He needed to assist the scientist though with his struggle of Biff Tannen. He slowly sat up this time, swinging his feet over the edge. He rested his face into his hands, with a groan. "Jesus..."
The brunet finally stood, struggling to remain standing, as he staggered into the hallway. He used the walls to steady himself, nearly tripping over his own two feet. Doc's voice cleared up significantly, sounding desperate. "Please, I am not here to injure you any furth-"
"I KNOW WHAT YOU DO! YOU KILL PEOPLE AND THEN Y-"
"Would you shut up already, Biff?" Marty announced his presence, as he entered the room, revealing the arguing pair.
Biff, who had been pushed up against the fireplace, held the side table, the legs aimed at Doc. He had a face of guarded anger, clearly wary of the blond in front of him. The scientist had his hands held in a placating gesture, appearing quite alarmed at the teenager's behavior. When Marty had entered though, Biff dangerously narrowed his eyes and Doc had immediately been at Marty's side, noticing his weakening stance. "Marty!"
A hand reached out for his shoulder in concern, but he swatted it away. "I'm fine, Doc."
"Marty, you don't look f-"
"Can you put that down?" The brunet pointed at the side table, rolling his eyes at the irked expression he received. "I already told you, Biff, I'm not scared of you."
"I'm gonna make you scared of me in a second, butthol-" Biff threatened, his voice slurred from his concussion.
"Yeah, ok, just put it down alright?"
"I'm not gonna let you tell me what to d-"
"Your dad came by." Marty interrupted, as Biff's arm muscles twitched, as though he was preparing to throw it in their direction.
The bully froze, expression melting to an apprehensive one. Marty knew those words would cease any violent tendencies for the moment, the side table being dropped onto it's side. Doc cringed, as a crack echoed into the room, though he refrained from speaking a word about it. Biff gulped, eyes unfocused, as he muttered to Marty. "...what'd he want?"
"You wanted you back," Doc answered, as Marty felt dizziness return to his senses. "I convinced him not to though."
His eyes darted around, lingering on Marty for a moment, before making contact with Doc's. "W-What'd you want from me?"
"I, personally, don't want anything from you. Marty, on the other hand, thought it to be to your benefit, no longer remain in that household," Doc cautiously explained, frowning as Marty leaned further onto the wall. "Are you alright, Marty?"
"Yeah...just not feeling so hot, you know..."
"What's wrong with you?" Biff caught his attention, frowning in confusion at the pale teenager.
"Nothing's wrong," Marty waved a hand in his direction, beginning to straighten himself up as the dizziness passed. "Doc, when are we going?"
"Going? Going where?" Though Biff didn't sounded panicked, his face betrayed him, suspicion and nerves evident on his face.
"The hospital. As I was attempting to explain earlier, you have a concussion, which might be more serious than originally thought to be. We don't mean you any harm and only wish to give you the help you need."
"I don't need any help, especially from some crazy murderer!"
"Oh, would you stop with the whole murderer shit already? It's giving me a headache!" Marty sighed out, throwing his hands into the air. "Look, Doc isn't a murderer. He's never killed anyone before, ok? Those weird noises everyone hears from the house? They're from the woods! I've been over there before and all sorts of weird shit! The animals that go missing? Into the woods! I'm getting sick and tired of all this!"
"Marty, I believe you sho-" Doc began, disapproving of his rising tone of voice.
"No, I'm tired of all this damn crap. You just stand there and let people mock you! You've down that for as long as I've known you! Stop letting people walk all over you, Doc!" The teenager shouted, as Doc appeared shocked at his outburst.
"...perhaps we should leave this for a more private moment, my friend." Doc whispered, as he leaned in closer to Marty, side glancing at the slightly nervous bully beside them.
Marty blinked a few times, before nodding, as he realized he might accidentally reveal information on the future. "Yeah, ok..."
"Buford," The blond turned to the other teenager, the guarded expression immediately returning. "I need to know if we would to like accept our offer of help or not. You don't owe myself or Marty for accepting it and I'll understand if you deny it...but..."
"Your...dad says he doesn't want you around anymore and everything you have in that house isn't your's any more." Marty bluntly told him, crossing his arms over his chest, and leaning his back against the wall.
"Yeah, well that doesn't surprise me..." Biff muttered to himself with a scowl, before his eyebrows furrowed in concern.
"What?" Marty asked, confused by his expression.
He shook his head. "Nothing and I don't need your help! I can take care of myself and don't need any crazy doctor and stupid butthead to do anything for me!"
Doc sighed. "Very well...may I at least offer a ride to the hospital for you? If you can't think of any cover stories, I can produce one for you. Perhaps I could simply explain a homeless man attacked you for some spare change or any other excuse for your injuries."
"I don't need to go to the hos-!" Biff started, as he begun to stand, before wavering dangerously in place. Doc immediately reached out, steadying by the shoulder, as the bully groaned, reaching up to touch his head. "Ughh..."
"I believe you do need a hospital and I'm more than willing to provide a ride. I could even drop you off in the parking lot, if you don't want to be seen near me."
He jerked his shoulder away, stalking sluggishly towards the front door. "Whatever..."
Doc simply sighed at the behavior, while Marty rolled his eyes.
~BTTF~
As the scientist drove down the abandoned streets in the early morning hours, heading towards the hospital, Bing Crosby singing "White Christmas" echoed softly through the confided space. Biff moodily crossed his arms over his chest, laid out in the back, and Marty leaned his face up against the window, peering out in the gently snowing town. Doc glanced to the rear view mirror to the bully, finding his eyes glaring directly at him in the reflection, before returning to watching the road in front of him. It hadn't occurred to him up until the outburst, that Marty had changed slightly from when he first met him. There had been a depressive bout he had endured, but underneath that Marty seemed to be a recognizably positive individual. Doc had barely noticed the change though, as if it had been a gradual event, realizing the teenager's positivity seemed faded. Perhaps it was simply living in a different time period was what was producing the change in his friend. "We should be arriving soon."
Biff grunted from the back, mouth set in a deepened scowl, one Doc suspected was partially due to the headache he had been supporting, since he had awoken. Marty shifted his face, pressed up against the window, cheeks tinted a rosy color from his fever. The scientist frowned at the discomfort on Marty's face. "Are you alright?"
"Yeah...just feel sorta hot." He muttered.
"I would assume so. I believe your fever is rising. Perhaps we should bring you in as well."
"You better not walk in with me, Brown." Biff grumbled aloud, voice beginning to slur once more.
"No, I'll be sure to enter afterwards." Doc sighed out.
"Ah, Doc, I don't need to go in. It's just a cold, you know? I can just take some medicine by at the mansion and I'll be as good as new tomorrow."
"Marty, perhaps I should bring you in, just in case."
"No, seriously, I'm fine."
"If you insist...Buford, I'll be certain drop you off at the edge of the parking lot, to be discrete."
"Why the hell do you keep calling me that?" He slouched further into the seat, as though he wanted to disappear from the vehicle entirely.
Doc blinked in surprise. "That is your name, isn't it? Have I been calling you the wrong one?"
"Nobody but my grandma calls me that. I don't like that nam..." He trailed off, frowning.
"Bu-Biff?"
"...did...did he mention anything about my grandma?" Biff hesitantly mumbled, the reflection showing his eyes downcast.
"Um...no, I'm afraid not...is...is anything the matter?"
"No...just...uh...she's sorta not doing so...never mind, whatever, it's not important." He scowled once more, eyes shifting to the window.
"Is she...?" Marty mumbled, blearily.
Biff's head snapped back to the front, eyes narrowing. "What'd you say, butthead?"
"Is she...you know, starting to get all old and...?" Marty twisted his head around, chocolate brown eyes making contact with the bully's sky blue ones.
"That's not any of your business, so why don't you trap your zip."
"Zip your trap." The brunet rolled his eyes, correcting the other teenager.
"What?"
"It's zip your trap, not trap your zip."
"...whatever, Brown." He went back to slouching into the seat.
Doc found his lips twitch upwards momentarily at the exchange.
~BTTF~
As they pulled into the parking lot of the hospital, Doc began to head towards a parking space, slush snow sliding in front of his wheels. He pressed softly on the breaks, his attention being brought to the figure lingering a few paces away from the entrance of the hospital. The individual smoked a cigarette, puffs of smoke looming through the air, as he made eye contact with the scientist. His eyes narrowed dangerously, as though he planned on doing deeds one could only imagine. As he threw down his cigarette, crushing it underneath one of his boots, Doc began to turn the car around. Marty's confused and weak voice wavered into his ears. "Doc?"
"Yes, Marty?" He managed to keep his voice remaining steady, yet his hands clenched at the steering wheel.
"What's wrong?" His friend immediately noticed his nervous reaction.
"Where the hell are you taking me?" Biff's reflection in the rear view mirror seemed disapproving of the change that was occurring, glaring daggers at the scientist.
"Perhaps we should head to a hospital in the next town over."
"What?" The teenagers asked in unison, unable to notice they had done so, both confused by his words.
"Hill Valley doesn't have the best hospital an-"
"Drive faster," Biff's stiff voice startled him, his reflection showing twisting his head around to stare out the back window. He sounded as though he was attempting to quell his own emotions, though Doc wasn't confident as to why. "Right now."
Doc pressed on the pedal, the car speeding up quite a bit, while he glanced into the rear view mirror. A 1951 Hudson Hornet was in the distance, rapidly approaching the trio, with Irving Tannen scowling furiously at them from the driver's seat. His heart rate picked up, aware that what would occur would possibly cause an accident. Biff's voice shook slightly, though his face betrayed no emotion. "...he's not going to hesitate to ram the back of your car, Brown."
"Wait, is that your dad?!" Marty cried out, eyes wide in alarm.
"Ram my vehicle?!" Doc exclaimed, his hands tightened further onto the steering wheel.
"Just drive faster, Brown!" The bully hissed, twisting his head to view his father once more.
"I'm nearly at the limit the vehicle allows!"
"Go back to your mansion then." Doc wasn't sure how the younger Tannen seemed to remain calm in the situation, despite the fact that Irving Tannen's car tailgated closely to their own.
"We're on the opposite side of tow-!"
"JUST DRIVE THIS PIECE OF SHIT FASTER!" Biff finally exploded, causing both Marty and Doc to startle. The entire vehicle lurched forward, as the front of Irving's vehicle pressed against the bummer. Doc pressed it to the limit, the bummer continuing to touch them, as a rumbling was heard from their engine. As he barreled down a road, leading to main street, another vehicle from a neighborhood turned directly in front of them. The scientist swerved in a desperate hope to avoid a collison, the other vehicle slamming into the back end of the Packard, and the front of Irving's vehicle. Both slid across the street, snow flung into the air, before Irving's flipped over, twice. The doubled crunch noise echoed throughout the street, as Doc's vehicle screamed out, along with Marty.
After a long moment of silence, with Doc holding the wheel with trembling hands and Marty clinging to his seat for dear life, they turned to the back seat. Biff was on the opposite end of the back seat, lifting his own head away from the window. He rubbed at his forehead, the window with a hairline fracture spread across it, though not shattered. Biff had obviously hit his head roughly against the window, worsening his concussion."W-Wha...I..."
"A-Are you ok?" Marty's voice shook, leaning towards the back seat. He winced, before grasping at his chest, a bout of pain overwhelming momentarily. He breathed deeply, shuddering at the pain, though Doc was focused too much on the other passenger to notice.
"My..h-head sorta..." Biff groaned, before shaking it. "I...d-don't really know..."
"I-I'm going to check on the other passengers. Please, stay here. You might be more injured than you think and I need to see if the others need any assistance. Someone must of notified the police by now of our accident," Doc announced, as he unbuckled himself. The teenagers mumbled out agreement, both laying back in their seats. He exited the vehicle, staring at the rather larger dent on the side of his Packard the paint chipped off. He cursed his luck, though he supposed the cost wouldn't be an issue, considering the amount of money he had. Biff stared at him through the window, no, beyond him to the rest of the wreckage. Doc turned around, realizing what he was staring at. "Great Scott..."
Irving Tannen's car laid upside down, the windows shattered and glass spread out across the street. One of the tires was missing, while another hung limply from the rim. As he approached, he crouched down, to peer inside of the window. A hand hung limply in his view, a steady stream of blood oozing down. As he hung his head lower, face nearly touching the road, the face of a familiar Texan was revealed. He stared at the slightly opened eyes, staring into nothingness, the distant sound of sirens was heard. From the gruesome injury, part of his face crushed in, Doc knew what had occurred. He gulped down the ill feeling in his stomach, averting his eyes from the sickening sight. Irving Tannen was dead. He moved on to the other vehicle, on it's side, three of it's wheels continuing to slowly spin. He peered through the windshield, freezing in place. Samuel Baines, father of Lorraine Baines, was in the driver's seat, eyes wide, and unblinking at him. Sam Baines was also dead.
~December 6th, 1955~
"When I was five, my grandpa brought us to the zoo, an, uh, ha, he sorta accidentally dropped me in the Ostrich exhibit and, uh, haha...ha...mom went off on him, after the zoo keepers got me out. B-But, the best part, was that he insisted it had been my dad's fault...but, haha, my dad was with Linda, near the panda exhibit. Mom...M-Mom thought he had done it anyways!" Marty laughed out, as Doc smiled at the story of Samuel Baines.
The laughter died off, Marty's face morphing into a frown. "It's...only been two days, and I c-can't remember his face now."
Doc sighed, noticing his friend's positivity fading. "Marty...due to...the passing of your grandfather, you would never met him in the future, thus your memories of the man simply fade from time itself. You might not even remember having a grandfather, by the end of the day. It's known as the ripple effect. A certain event results in a spread of further effects, the source leading back to the first event. In this case, the first event would be your arrival in 1955."
The 17-year-old buried his face in the pillow, breathing deeply. His voice came out muffled, though the he could be heard still "Doc was right...he's always right...I should of never bought that sports almanac..."
"Marty, we've already been through this: this is not your fault. We've gone through this several times now. You couldn't of possibly foreseen what your time travel trip would result in. You didn't kill your grandfather. That was the result of the selfish actions of another. You were doing what you felt was right and I am...proud of your decision to help another that needed it."
Marty appeared surprised at the 'proud' aspect, though his face fell. "Why do I feel so bad then? I feel like everything is wrong."
"That might just be your fever and fractured ribs talking."
"It's not...it's not..." Marty mumbled, his hand reaching down to stroke the tender area on his chest.
The scientist adjusted his seat, the skidding noise echoing around in the hospital room. "Marty, I don't...my future self, I feel as though I might of berated you too much on that almanac. Perhaps I partially blamed you, but your only 17-years-old and couldn't possibly know any better. I'm the one at fault, for creating a time machine in the first place."
"What? Doc, it ain't your fa-"
Doc raised a hand, silencing his friend. "My future self is to blame for the events that have befallen you. That is a fact, that I will not deny, nor should you. Irving Tannen wasn't a good man and though I feel horrible that this had to end the way it did, Buford Tannen is going to be in a better location thanks to your actions."
Marty gulped at the words, before hesitantly nodding. "O-Ok...wait, 'better location'?"
"Yes,Gertrude Tannen isn't in any condition to take care of him, thus the doctors informed me he would likely be a ward of the state of California, until he turns 18-years-old next March."
"What...What's wrong with her?"
"They believe she's had a type of cancer, that had been untreated for a few years now. Buford informed them that she has been vomiting blood for at least five years, though she never wanted medical treatment for the issues she experienced. The doctors say she has a few days at the most. That's all I know as of right now."
"Oh...What about Biff?"
"The doctors informed me Buford was beginning to get better and he was lucky hitting his head a second time as hard as he didn't cause any permanent damage. He seemed confused when I went to visit, though he did recognize me. I attempted to be as non-threatening as possible, though he remains wary of my presence. He hasn't been informed about his father quite yet."
"How's my...Lorraine doing?"
"I haven't gone to see the Baines, but I know the funereal for Samuel is in two days. Lorraine hasn't dropped in for a visit, but George did yesterday, and had conveyed to me how upset she's been. You were sleeping when he came by, so he wanted me to tell you he said 'hi'."
Marty sighed aloud, imagining what a state his mother was in at the moment. He knew it was imperative to visit her as soon as possible. "When do I get out?"
"The doctors say in you can leave tomorrow, though you have to have bed rest for a couple of day. You likely won't go to school for the remainder of this week."
"Can I see Biff?"
The scientist frowned, shaking his head. "Marty, your ribs are currently in a tender state and the fever is sti-"
"Please, Doc? I'll take the wheelchair and not move much."
"Marty-"
"Please?"
Doc sighed. "Oh, alright..."
As Doc assisted him in standing, he brought a wheelchair up behind him, and settled him into it. Marty adjusted his stance, feeling a sting of pain around his chest, before shifting in a position that lessened the physical burden he felt. The brunet was wheeled down the hallways, before being led into Biff Tannen's room. He laid out across the bed, his head bandaged, and clad in a hospital gown, just as Marty was. His arms were crossed over his chest, eyes observing the scenery outside. Biff blinked, twisting his head to stare at them, before pushing himself up into a sitting position. "What do you want?"
Doc bit his lip at the scowl he received, before pushing Marty closer to the bed. "Doc, can we be alone for a second?"
"Of course, Marty." Doc immediately answered, aware that Biff continued to be highly distrust of him. He approached the doorway, glancing briefly at the pair of teenagers, before exiting, the door shutting behind him.
"So, does your head hurt still?" He witnessed Biff's jaw beginning to clench, twitching minutely, before he glanced away from Marty's eyes. "You don't wanna talk then?"
"...not to a butthead like you, Brown."
Marty bit his lip, before continuing on. "You upset about your...dad?"
Biff's shoulder's stiffened at the mention of Irving Tannen, though no reply was heard. He decided to approach from another angle instead. "Did you know your grandma is here?"
When he hadn't received an answer once more, he attempted yet another angel, one that caused himself guilt. "Lorraine's... d-dad was in the other car."
Biff's head snapped back to him, genuine surprise scrawled across his face. "What?"
"H-He was in the other car, the one that pulled out of the neighborhood in front of us...h-he's...dead."
The bully appeared unnaturally apprehensive, biting his lip. "Is she...doing ok?"
"I don't really know. George-McFly-came by and told Doc she wasn't doing too hot, you know? She hasn't come to see me, so I'm guessing she either really doesn't actually like me or she's really upset about her dad. I didn't really know that you cared though, especially after the way you've treated her."
The teenager expected an outburst of anger at the words, though Biff simply averted his eyes, stunning him. He released a stream of mumbles, barely heard in the silent hospital room."I used to not...just like... when I thought I didn't really care about my grand...ma..."
Marty is surprised by the confession. "Uh, I-I heard she isn't doing good right now."
"Drop it." Biff muttered, scowling furiously at the wall in front of him.
The 17-year-old thought it was wise to heed the words and finally approached the dangerous territory he had been avoiding since the beginning of the conversation. "Did...anyone tell you what happened to your dad?"
"What, he in the hospital too, all beat up from the car rolling over?"
"No, uh...he's dead."
Biff's jaw trembled, eyebrows furrowing furiously, before hissing out a reply. "...that asshole deserved it."
"You don't care?" Marty questioned, confused by the reaction.
"I stopped caring about him a long time ago."
"Was it when...he started...hurting you?" His voice trailed off into a whisper towards the end.
"..."
"Are you...?"
"What?"
"I kinda just wanna know if you're still thinking about beating me up and all that shit?"
"...I don't know...I don't know about anything anymore." Biff had a tone of confliction to him, as though he couldn't decide what he wanted to do after the events of today. He's eyes appeared distant, hands squeezing into trembling fists.
"Are you ok?"
"No." He tonelessly answered.
"You wanna talk about anything else?"
"No."
"You sure?"
"Get out." Biff mumbled rolling over and burying his face into the pillow.
Marty released a sigh, aware the conversation had officially ended. He twisted his head, calling over his shoulder to the shut door. "Doc?"
The door opened a moment later, the scientist's head peeking in. "Yes?"
"Can you take me back to my room now?"
"Of course." Doc glanced over at the back of the younger Tannen, before he wheeled Marty out, both unaware of the lone tear that rolled down Biff's cheek.
End Chapter 7
I apologize for the wait between each update, but to be honest I became burnt out from all the writing I did last semester. I decided to take a minor break from writing as a whole, but now I'm back. Notes for this chapter include the following: Irving Tannen backed off at the threat of the police, but that didn't mean he was going to give up that easy. He knew they would head for the hospital eventually and waited for their arrival. Doc knew that wouldn't end well, so he fled, though Irving decided to go after them anyways. Biff knew from personal experience the lengths the man would go to, in order to get what he wanted. The decision to kill of Sam Baines, was only to further show the side effects of time travel, and not out of spite of the character. I feel as though, after the events that had occurred, Biff would begin to doubt his own behavior, especially the entire bullying aspect. He's at the point, that he doesn't care if anyone knows what he's thinking. I hope you all have had a happy New Year so far and I'll be back soon with another update!
Preview:
"W-Why did he have to die?" Lorraine sobbed, wiping her face with a moist tissue.
"Lorraine..." Marty reached out for her shoulder, to comfort his broken hearted mother, but she jerked away from his touch.
