THE MAN CALLED FATHER
By: Bluangl6
Disclaimers: I don't own the character Krillin so please don't sue me kus I don't have any money!!
Author's note: PLEASE DON'T FLAME ME! I know this is a touchy subject but it's something I had to write about. I picked Krillin for this because he fits, that's about it. Please Read and Review.
Krillin sat in a dark corner of his room. It had been one year since his mother had passed away, but things weren't getting better. His father...so angry...Krillin had often wondered why his mother had killed herself. She had seemed happy enough. The trips to the park by the big oak tree had always seemed to be her favorite. The ones where she held his hand and told him that if he ever needed her she'd be right there. The ones where his father lifted him up high and grinned as he giggled and kicked his legs in the air. The ones where he sat secure in his mothers' arms while they watched the last streaks of the sun's rays hit the water of the lake and the birds hurried to get home to their young. So sad....only seven... There came a sudden crash and a stream of cussing from the room outside Krillin's door and he sat rigid, he could feel the hair on the back of his neck rise as he eyed the door in silent anticipation. But the heavy footsteps that were nearing thundered by, leaving Krillin shaking in the dark with only a sliver of moonlight daring to filter through the broken shutter. Krillin nestled his head onto his arms against the coarse threads of his cotton shirt. He didn't understand.
A stinging slap across the face woke Krillin as he groggily pushed himself up off the floor. He came face to face with his father. The unshaven, once loved, face was screwed into a look of disgust and anger. Sweat covered it and the rancid smell of alcohol met the boy's nostrils as he looked up at the menacing man.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing??" the man called father bellowed in his face, "Get ready for school now! You'd better hope you catch the bus on time because I've got better things to do than drive you around like a damned limo-driver!"
Krillin cowered under the man's visual strength and nodded silently as he got dressed without a word. Quickly grabbing his bag after he had dressed and brushed his teeth Krillin rushed fearfully into the kitchen to get an apple for lunch. The kitchen was strewn with last night's fiasco. Dishes were shattered against the wall, food was splattered on the floor and a couple of chairs were turned over. He went past all of this without a word, trying to dodge the man called father. But a hand caught his arm and roughly jerked him back.
'Father' sneered, "Do you see that mess you made??"
Krillin was petrified, and just stared, hoping his silence would discourage the man.
Instead the back of a burly hand met his cheek and sent him to the tiled floor.
"I asked you a question!!!" the man bawled at him.
A timid 'yes sir' was all Krillin would let escape.
He received a glare from the man and was hit again, only harder, "WELL THAT THE HELL ARE YOU GOING TO DO ABOUT IT?"
"clean it up....?" Came the meek answer.
The child was lifted up by the front of his shirt and the man looked directly into his eyes, "As soon as you come home." His 'father' said coolly, but threateningly. Then he was thrown to the floor, and the man called father stalked out. Krillin picked himself up, trying not to let the tears that were welling up escape. That was a weakness. He opened the screen door and exited the foul house as quickly as he could.
Though he wouldn't let the tears come, Krillin felt all of the familiar emotions rush to greet him, pain, despondence...loneliness. Most of all confusion. His father was the one who had broken the plates in a wild fury, why did he get punished? It was evident to Krillin that he wasn't good enough to have his father take the blame. That only happened for good children.
Relief swept over Krillin as he boarded the bus and found a seat in the very back. Staring out the window, he ignored the din of the other children laughing and squealing around him. Unconsciously he pulled his sleeve down over the bruises on his arms and pushed back his muddled emotions. The gentle vibration of the bus let his mind wander, and he thought about how nice it would be to have a bike so he wouldn't have to listen to the children whispering behind his back. Mostly they talked about how dirty he was. He ran a hand through his greasy hair, it had been a while since he'd taken a bath, but lately he couldn't have risked it. First graders were cruel.
During school Krillin worked hard. If he got a bad grade he would be in trouble, the man called father had said. The teacher pretty much ignored the small boy who sat in the back of her class. Though Krillin never noticed it, she wished to remain ignorant, and spent her time with the happier children instead. He never noticed her repulsion for him, and he felt despondent at the fact that he didn't have someone older to talk to. Loneliness is a hard thing to deal with. No one had made jump-rope rhymes about him, not very many people at the tiny school teased him, they just pretended he wasn't there. That was the way he wanted it, that way the teacher wouldn't tell the man called father. But sometimes...
During recess Krillin sat with his back against the school, watching the children be happy. He had often wished for that feeling, but it had gone ever since his mother, she had taken it with her. There were times that he hated her, how could she leave him? Had she known what his father was going to do? Had she known that he would be gone every night, and come back with such a vengeance that Krillin often lay unconscious on the floor when it was over? Krillin didn't think so, he hoped not.
School was out, time to walk home. This was Krillin's favorite part of the day. While the other children hopped onto the big yellow busses Krillin walked by on the road. This gave him time to think, and also time to prepare. He wandered along as the dust kicked up from his feet met him on the warm sunny day. It rarely rained.
Krillin often saw a small monastery, he wasn't quite sure what it was called, but by the look of the outside it was very peaceful. Often times he stopped to watch the monks go about their daily routine, sweeping, gardening, or doing other such work to tidy up the monastery. He wished so badly that he could have a life like that, no one blaming him or yelling at him, no more worrying about stories for the bruises that littered his body... Sometimes one of the monks would smile at Krillin, but he always ran away. He didn't deserve to make friends with such peaceful people. The man called father had said so.
On this particular day Krillin passed to see one of the monks standing outside the monastery gate. The monk smiled serenely, and Krillin stopped. What was he going to do? He certainly couldn't go by, there was too much of a risk of being questioned, and he never had been a very good liar. He grew skittish and felt increasingly uncomfortable as the monk stood in the road before the bamboo gate. Finally Krillin concluded that he had to pass, even if it meant lying.
Slowly he started walking again, ignoring the withered leaves that he crushed beneath his virtually sole-less shoes. The trees breathed sighs of indecision as a wind curled itself around the two males that occupied the seemingly desolate road. As Krillin passed the brother gently intercepted him.
"I've seen you looking over our fence," was the quiet greeting, "would you like to come in?"
Krillin looked at the man before him. He was aged, but not weathered, the monk had on the traditional orange robe and it was evident that he was an elder. Though the monk's skin was such a milky dark, and wrinkles lined the experienced face, Krillin noticed that the eyes still danced with light. The monk stood. Patiently waiting.
Krillin stood a moment more as thoughts of his the man called father ran through his head, along with the teacher, and the children at school. After another moment of silent speculation, and inner turmoil, his curiosity got the better of him and Krillin silently nodded. The monk smiled and moved aside as he led Krillin through the gate.
"I hope that you will enjoy yourself." Was the welcome.
Krillin never left.
By: Bluangl6
Disclaimers: I don't own the character Krillin so please don't sue me kus I don't have any money!!
Author's note: PLEASE DON'T FLAME ME! I know this is a touchy subject but it's something I had to write about. I picked Krillin for this because he fits, that's about it. Please Read and Review.
Krillin sat in a dark corner of his room. It had been one year since his mother had passed away, but things weren't getting better. His father...so angry...Krillin had often wondered why his mother had killed herself. She had seemed happy enough. The trips to the park by the big oak tree had always seemed to be her favorite. The ones where she held his hand and told him that if he ever needed her she'd be right there. The ones where his father lifted him up high and grinned as he giggled and kicked his legs in the air. The ones where he sat secure in his mothers' arms while they watched the last streaks of the sun's rays hit the water of the lake and the birds hurried to get home to their young. So sad....only seven... There came a sudden crash and a stream of cussing from the room outside Krillin's door and he sat rigid, he could feel the hair on the back of his neck rise as he eyed the door in silent anticipation. But the heavy footsteps that were nearing thundered by, leaving Krillin shaking in the dark with only a sliver of moonlight daring to filter through the broken shutter. Krillin nestled his head onto his arms against the coarse threads of his cotton shirt. He didn't understand.
A stinging slap across the face woke Krillin as he groggily pushed himself up off the floor. He came face to face with his father. The unshaven, once loved, face was screwed into a look of disgust and anger. Sweat covered it and the rancid smell of alcohol met the boy's nostrils as he looked up at the menacing man.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing??" the man called father bellowed in his face, "Get ready for school now! You'd better hope you catch the bus on time because I've got better things to do than drive you around like a damned limo-driver!"
Krillin cowered under the man's visual strength and nodded silently as he got dressed without a word. Quickly grabbing his bag after he had dressed and brushed his teeth Krillin rushed fearfully into the kitchen to get an apple for lunch. The kitchen was strewn with last night's fiasco. Dishes were shattered against the wall, food was splattered on the floor and a couple of chairs were turned over. He went past all of this without a word, trying to dodge the man called father. But a hand caught his arm and roughly jerked him back.
'Father' sneered, "Do you see that mess you made??"
Krillin was petrified, and just stared, hoping his silence would discourage the man.
Instead the back of a burly hand met his cheek and sent him to the tiled floor.
"I asked you a question!!!" the man bawled at him.
A timid 'yes sir' was all Krillin would let escape.
He received a glare from the man and was hit again, only harder, "WELL THAT THE HELL ARE YOU GOING TO DO ABOUT IT?"
"clean it up....?" Came the meek answer.
The child was lifted up by the front of his shirt and the man looked directly into his eyes, "As soon as you come home." His 'father' said coolly, but threateningly. Then he was thrown to the floor, and the man called father stalked out. Krillin picked himself up, trying not to let the tears that were welling up escape. That was a weakness. He opened the screen door and exited the foul house as quickly as he could.
Though he wouldn't let the tears come, Krillin felt all of the familiar emotions rush to greet him, pain, despondence...loneliness. Most of all confusion. His father was the one who had broken the plates in a wild fury, why did he get punished? It was evident to Krillin that he wasn't good enough to have his father take the blame. That only happened for good children.
Relief swept over Krillin as he boarded the bus and found a seat in the very back. Staring out the window, he ignored the din of the other children laughing and squealing around him. Unconsciously he pulled his sleeve down over the bruises on his arms and pushed back his muddled emotions. The gentle vibration of the bus let his mind wander, and he thought about how nice it would be to have a bike so he wouldn't have to listen to the children whispering behind his back. Mostly they talked about how dirty he was. He ran a hand through his greasy hair, it had been a while since he'd taken a bath, but lately he couldn't have risked it. First graders were cruel.
During school Krillin worked hard. If he got a bad grade he would be in trouble, the man called father had said. The teacher pretty much ignored the small boy who sat in the back of her class. Though Krillin never noticed it, she wished to remain ignorant, and spent her time with the happier children instead. He never noticed her repulsion for him, and he felt despondent at the fact that he didn't have someone older to talk to. Loneliness is a hard thing to deal with. No one had made jump-rope rhymes about him, not very many people at the tiny school teased him, they just pretended he wasn't there. That was the way he wanted it, that way the teacher wouldn't tell the man called father. But sometimes...
During recess Krillin sat with his back against the school, watching the children be happy. He had often wished for that feeling, but it had gone ever since his mother, she had taken it with her. There were times that he hated her, how could she leave him? Had she known what his father was going to do? Had she known that he would be gone every night, and come back with such a vengeance that Krillin often lay unconscious on the floor when it was over? Krillin didn't think so, he hoped not.
School was out, time to walk home. This was Krillin's favorite part of the day. While the other children hopped onto the big yellow busses Krillin walked by on the road. This gave him time to think, and also time to prepare. He wandered along as the dust kicked up from his feet met him on the warm sunny day. It rarely rained.
Krillin often saw a small monastery, he wasn't quite sure what it was called, but by the look of the outside it was very peaceful. Often times he stopped to watch the monks go about their daily routine, sweeping, gardening, or doing other such work to tidy up the monastery. He wished so badly that he could have a life like that, no one blaming him or yelling at him, no more worrying about stories for the bruises that littered his body... Sometimes one of the monks would smile at Krillin, but he always ran away. He didn't deserve to make friends with such peaceful people. The man called father had said so.
On this particular day Krillin passed to see one of the monks standing outside the monastery gate. The monk smiled serenely, and Krillin stopped. What was he going to do? He certainly couldn't go by, there was too much of a risk of being questioned, and he never had been a very good liar. He grew skittish and felt increasingly uncomfortable as the monk stood in the road before the bamboo gate. Finally Krillin concluded that he had to pass, even if it meant lying.
Slowly he started walking again, ignoring the withered leaves that he crushed beneath his virtually sole-less shoes. The trees breathed sighs of indecision as a wind curled itself around the two males that occupied the seemingly desolate road. As Krillin passed the brother gently intercepted him.
"I've seen you looking over our fence," was the quiet greeting, "would you like to come in?"
Krillin looked at the man before him. He was aged, but not weathered, the monk had on the traditional orange robe and it was evident that he was an elder. Though the monk's skin was such a milky dark, and wrinkles lined the experienced face, Krillin noticed that the eyes still danced with light. The monk stood. Patiently waiting.
Krillin stood a moment more as thoughts of his the man called father ran through his head, along with the teacher, and the children at school. After another moment of silent speculation, and inner turmoil, his curiosity got the better of him and Krillin silently nodded. The monk smiled and moved aside as he led Krillin through the gate.
"I hope that you will enjoy yourself." Was the welcome.
Krillin never left.