It: Tifa! Tifa, where are you?
Someone's drunk.
Robert opened his door, just a few feet down the hall.
Robert: Tifa, I didn't hear you come in.
Me:
I walked down the stairs into the living room where the thing was. He was falling over, his speech most obviously slurred. He had to use three chairs, a counter, and a couch, and fell down twice while walking over to me.
Me: You feeling okay?
It: Don't talk to me like that!
I cast a sideways glance at Robert, who just shrugged his shoulders. He started to walk away.
Me: And where do you think you're going?
Robert: Back to my room?
Me: So I have to take care of bad-breath here by myself?
Robert: You can handle it. I don't know a thing about drunk people anyway.
Me: Ha! I guess that's right, since you can't take care of yourself either.
Robert: Tifa, don't get fresh with me.
Me: I can do whatever the fuck I want.
Robert turned around, obviously mad.
It: Tifa, don't talk to your brother that way.
Me: I don't even consider him my brother.
He glared at me, while it (my father) fell over me, landing at my feet, grunting. The tape recorder was in my back pocket. I switched it to record.
Me: Why'd you do it Robert?
Robert: I don't know what the hell you're talking about.
Me: Why did you rape me?
Robert:
I was proud at how strong and confident I was sounding, because, on the inside, I was screaming with fear. However, I did not cease to sound like I just came out of finishing school.
Me: For pleasure? Can you not control yourself to the extent that you go off and rape your sister?
Robert: Half sister.
Me: That doesn't change anything!
It: Now you two, stay calm, let's not fight.
You know, when my father was drunk, he was pretty cool. But I wish he had chosen one of the other numerous times that we were fighting, because now was not the time for me to "remain calm."
Me: No dad, let's see what Robert has to say about this. Well?
Robert:
Me:
It:
Robert: Cause you're a bitch and you deserved it!
Me: How the hell am I a bitch?
Robert:
Me: Go on! Tell me::shoves dad off shoulder and advances towards the other thing:: Well, are you going to answer? Or do you not have an answer? For majority of my life, ever since I could walk, I have been preparing dinner for you two, taking care of you two when you came home drunk, or woke up sick, whether it be the measles or a hangover! I have been there when you two need me, have spent most of my life with a bunch of jobs trying to support this family because you two can't come up with decent jobs! And on top of that, I've had hell at school, because I'm a freak, or a loner, or a dork. And this is the thanks I get after a long day? Rape?
My dad fell down on the floor, completely too wasted to keep his eyes open for another second. This would make it easier, only confronting one.
Robert: You're just like your mother.
He looked down at my father sympathetically, then looked back up at me with a disgusted look.
Me: You said that, that night. You said it then too. What d'you mean?
Robert: I was always close to dad. It was like any typical father-son relationship. We would play catch, football, video games, watch gory movies. The stereotypical relationship. I was happy when he was happy. Nothing could separate us. Except her. My mother loved our father so much, she would die for him. But then you're mother came along, and took it all away. Although I was close to my dad, closer than anyone, I still had a bond with my mother that I'm sure no one else has felt with a parent. It broke my heart to see my mother cry as my father, who swore to love her, left to marry another woman.
Robert: Then came along little baby Tifa, and everyone was sooooo happy with this new little bundle of joy. And pretty soon, I was shut out. But I didn't mind so much. Long ago, my mother always used to say to me "love means being happy when the person you love is happy, even if that doesn't make you happy at all." After a while, it stuck to me. As long as dad was happy and smiling, I was happy. But then, my dad found out about the cheating. Your mother was having an affair with some guy named Jenx. My father got so angry at her, he did something he really regretted. He beat her when she got home. And raped her. He didn't want anyone to know what he did, so he stuffed her in a trash bin in some part of the city. My father found out about a month later that my mom died The previous year. I was so mad. My mother was dead. My father, hurt. And you, you are just like your mother. A bitch. A cheater. A whore. You deserve everything you get coming to you. At school. At home. You know, it's a great thing that all those nurses bought dad's lie. Sure, he may have bribed them a little to gossip about it, saying how you were locked away once 'cause you're mental and all that, and that you got so fed up when "they guy" you got pregnant with left, so you started to blame it on me. ::Looks at dad:: He's a good guy.
Me: I can't believe this! You actually think that just because my mom may have cheated on dad, that I'm exactly like her and that gives you an excuse to rape me? I'm out o' here!
Just as I was walking away though, the tape recorder beeped and a voice came on saying "end of recording."
Robert: Bitch!
He charged after me. I jumped out of the way, and pulled the tape recorder out of my back pocket.
\/: Just keep the recorder safe :\/ I kept thinking to myself.
Robert came flying at me again. I dodged easily, and ran up the stairs. He bounded up after me. I flew down the hall, and slipped into my room. I slid down into my dark closet.
Robert: Tifa. Tifa. Tifa, where'd you go?
I could hear him chanting my name, coming for me. I willed him not to find me, keeping the tape recorder close to my chest.
I heard him run into my room and swing the closet door open. Light immediately flooded my vision.
Robert: There you are.
I kicked him right in the family jewels, and as he collapsed, covering his injured groin, I ran back out into the hall, and into the bathroom. I forgot to close the door. My main concern was checking to make sure the recorder was safe. Not broken or scratch. Good, I thought.
Oh, the irony.
I didn't hear Robert tiptoe in the bathroom behind me, so imagine my surprise when I looked up in the mirror to see his face there. It was like in those horror movies. I screamed.
He grabbed around me, trying to get the recorder. I leaned forward, putting one of my arms up, and with one last scream, I pulled his head forward into the mirror.
V
The blue and red lights were almost blinding.
My father was sitting on the porch steps, glaring at me, while the cops questioned him what happened.
Robert was being carried away in a stretcher.
A cop walked by me.
Cop: You okay? I heard he tried to hurt you.
Me: I'm fine. Just a bit shaken up.
Cop: Well, you're free to go back inside.
Me: Actually, could I use your phone?
The cop handed me his phone, and I nodded as he walked off to give me some privacy.
I dialed the number that was etched in my brain, one I could never forget.
Someone picked up at the other line. This is it.
Voice: Hello?
Me: Cloud, could we talk, please?
V
One of my favorite chapters to write (because it was mainly dialogue, none of that detail stuff).
Review.
Please?