Hi this ones about Chandler (naturally) and its just a little something
(well ok a HUGE something) about his past and what happens when it comes
back to haunt him. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: if I did own these character you wouldn't know about them he he. I would keep the locked in my basement!!!! (Not that I have a basement)
My life has not been easy. Ever since I was little I had to work harder then I ever thought I could. When I was just three years old I had to help my older sister to get the shopping from the car. There wasn't a lot. We were too poor to afford a lot of things but she had just had her arm broken so she needed help. I wasn't even meant to be doing it. I wouldn't of in any other circumstances but this seemed wrong. Her arm was broken because my dad got drunk again. She had woken up when he got home and he came in to our room. He stumbled over to her bed and she took his arm to try and help him back up. He took her arm and broke it easily like a twig. That same man was now sitting in his chair and watching evening TV. My sister was only six but she had to do most of the work in the house because mom wouldn't do anything if she didn't feel like it. Which she never did. She worked nights (she told us it was at the 24 hour laundermatt but rumours at my sisters school said it was on street corners) and so my sister had to do almost everything on her own. I wasn't aloud to help because I was still just a 'baby'.
'Lizzie, let me take that, you'll hurt your arm more.' I said, taking a slightly heavy bag from the boot of the car. It was too heavy for me and I dropped it. The bottle of milk smashed instantly, as did a few eggs, all of things ruined the bread and my dads' cigarettes. I knew instantly that I was in trouble. I was only grateful that it wasn't any alcohol. Then I would be dead.
'Chandler! Oh my God look at it. Oh Dad will be really mad now.' Lizzie frowned and looked up at me suddenly. 'Quick go inside. I'll say it was me.' I think she was hoping dad wouldn't be mad at her because of the broken arm. No such luck. Dad came storming out, grabbed me round the waist and dragged me back indoors, leaving Lizzie alone and terrified for my safety on the pavement outside. She knew what I had coming now. When my dad was drunk all bets were off to what he might do. I didn't know this though. I saw him hit my mum and sister sometimes, but he never touched me. I think maybe I was his favourite. Now I know I was wrong. For dropping the bag, my little body was beaten 'till it was black and blue and bloody, and I was locked in the airing cupboard for the next two days without any food. Not something a three year old should have to face.
'Chandler?' the voice bought me out of my memories and back to reality. I was in my office. The voice was my assistants. 'Doug wanted to see you in his office strait away.' Then she left. I sighed. It was the annual report, I knew it. I thought I'd be very lucky if I didn't get fired this time. It wasn't my fault thought; I had a cold all last week. I sighed as I got up and went to my boss' office.
'You wanted to see me sir?' I asked. Doug looked at me with a serious look on his face that didn't belong. Whenever I had seen Doug he was always laughing, joking and was generally happy and you could get away with anything. This time seemed different.
'Shut the door behind you Chandler.' He said and I did so.
'Hey babe what's up?' Phoebe asked me as I walked in. I didn't answer her and walked strait to my bedroom. Throwing myself down on the bed I stared at the ceiling wondering why bad things always happened to me. My thoughts wandered back to that night.
It was my second day in the airing cupboard. I was starving, scared and confused. I didn't realise that dropping the groceries was that bad. Lizzie came by to see me, comfort me and once to slip some food to me. I thought I was going to be in there forever when my mom came in and dragged me out. She placed me in front of my dad and asked what I had to say for myself. I felt really bad; I hadn't meant to drop the bag. I was trying to help. Of course when I told him that he just sneered and pushed me away so that he could stare at the TV. I went up to my room sensing it was the right thing to do. I shared the room with Lizzie and she was there then. When she saw me she burst out crying and ran over to hug me. It was only then when I saw my reflection. I stared at it for ages. The boy staring back at me, that couldn't be me, could it? It was a blackened, bruised person, already skinny and weak looking even worse now. I was shaking and terrified. It was then that I learned of my fathers drunken power, how to obey him and follow every order I was given. I tried to make sure this would never happen again and was on my best behaviour. I told all this to Lizzie but she just stared at me and gave a small, sad laugh.
'It won't work Chandler honey, trust me. I've tried it; when he's drunk, well, just stay out of his way ok? I'll do my best to protect you babe.' I followed her advice but still did everything I could to stay out of trouble. But when you're only three it's unavoidable.
'Chandler, the girls are going to watch a film, you coming?' Phoebes voice came through the door. I listened to it and replayed her sweet voice in my head. Oh how she sounded like Lizzie. I didn't answer and she must have thought I was asleep because she went away. Half an hour later I got up and went out in to the kitchen. Joey had gone out on a date and was left alone. I went over to the drawer and pulled put a sharp knife. As I ran it across my hand I watched as the red blood came oozing out. I smiled with satisfaction that I was in control of the pain now. Endorphins rushed through my body naturally to help me mentally deal with the 'trauma' of the situation. I barley noticed it. With all the pain my dad caused me for years I became desensitised to it.
I move the knife over my arms, causing more and more pain, everything becoming less and less important to the pain I was inflicting on myself. I walked over to the sink and ran the water until it was boiling hot and then stuck my arm under it. I screamed out in pain as it reached my open wounds and wallowed in the felling afterwards. That was the feeling I was addicted to now.
Suddenly the door flew open I was standing face to face with Monica. As she stared at me grief filled my eyes as she discovered I was going through the same problem I ad faced years ago. She picked up a towel and placed it against the cuts, causing me to whimper slightly. She held me head against her chest and rocked me back and forth. Little did she know that my terrifying past had come back to haunt me.
Well shall I continue? I don't really know what this is yet, it just came to me. But then again that's how some of the best stories are written. If I get good reviews then I will defiantly continue. Go ahead it don't take that long. Press the button; you know you want to ;)
Disclaimer: if I did own these character you wouldn't know about them he he. I would keep the locked in my basement!!!! (Not that I have a basement)
My life has not been easy. Ever since I was little I had to work harder then I ever thought I could. When I was just three years old I had to help my older sister to get the shopping from the car. There wasn't a lot. We were too poor to afford a lot of things but she had just had her arm broken so she needed help. I wasn't even meant to be doing it. I wouldn't of in any other circumstances but this seemed wrong. Her arm was broken because my dad got drunk again. She had woken up when he got home and he came in to our room. He stumbled over to her bed and she took his arm to try and help him back up. He took her arm and broke it easily like a twig. That same man was now sitting in his chair and watching evening TV. My sister was only six but she had to do most of the work in the house because mom wouldn't do anything if she didn't feel like it. Which she never did. She worked nights (she told us it was at the 24 hour laundermatt but rumours at my sisters school said it was on street corners) and so my sister had to do almost everything on her own. I wasn't aloud to help because I was still just a 'baby'.
'Lizzie, let me take that, you'll hurt your arm more.' I said, taking a slightly heavy bag from the boot of the car. It was too heavy for me and I dropped it. The bottle of milk smashed instantly, as did a few eggs, all of things ruined the bread and my dads' cigarettes. I knew instantly that I was in trouble. I was only grateful that it wasn't any alcohol. Then I would be dead.
'Chandler! Oh my God look at it. Oh Dad will be really mad now.' Lizzie frowned and looked up at me suddenly. 'Quick go inside. I'll say it was me.' I think she was hoping dad wouldn't be mad at her because of the broken arm. No such luck. Dad came storming out, grabbed me round the waist and dragged me back indoors, leaving Lizzie alone and terrified for my safety on the pavement outside. She knew what I had coming now. When my dad was drunk all bets were off to what he might do. I didn't know this though. I saw him hit my mum and sister sometimes, but he never touched me. I think maybe I was his favourite. Now I know I was wrong. For dropping the bag, my little body was beaten 'till it was black and blue and bloody, and I was locked in the airing cupboard for the next two days without any food. Not something a three year old should have to face.
'Chandler?' the voice bought me out of my memories and back to reality. I was in my office. The voice was my assistants. 'Doug wanted to see you in his office strait away.' Then she left. I sighed. It was the annual report, I knew it. I thought I'd be very lucky if I didn't get fired this time. It wasn't my fault thought; I had a cold all last week. I sighed as I got up and went to my boss' office.
'You wanted to see me sir?' I asked. Doug looked at me with a serious look on his face that didn't belong. Whenever I had seen Doug he was always laughing, joking and was generally happy and you could get away with anything. This time seemed different.
'Shut the door behind you Chandler.' He said and I did so.
'Hey babe what's up?' Phoebe asked me as I walked in. I didn't answer her and walked strait to my bedroom. Throwing myself down on the bed I stared at the ceiling wondering why bad things always happened to me. My thoughts wandered back to that night.
It was my second day in the airing cupboard. I was starving, scared and confused. I didn't realise that dropping the groceries was that bad. Lizzie came by to see me, comfort me and once to slip some food to me. I thought I was going to be in there forever when my mom came in and dragged me out. She placed me in front of my dad and asked what I had to say for myself. I felt really bad; I hadn't meant to drop the bag. I was trying to help. Of course when I told him that he just sneered and pushed me away so that he could stare at the TV. I went up to my room sensing it was the right thing to do. I shared the room with Lizzie and she was there then. When she saw me she burst out crying and ran over to hug me. It was only then when I saw my reflection. I stared at it for ages. The boy staring back at me, that couldn't be me, could it? It was a blackened, bruised person, already skinny and weak looking even worse now. I was shaking and terrified. It was then that I learned of my fathers drunken power, how to obey him and follow every order I was given. I tried to make sure this would never happen again and was on my best behaviour. I told all this to Lizzie but she just stared at me and gave a small, sad laugh.
'It won't work Chandler honey, trust me. I've tried it; when he's drunk, well, just stay out of his way ok? I'll do my best to protect you babe.' I followed her advice but still did everything I could to stay out of trouble. But when you're only three it's unavoidable.
'Chandler, the girls are going to watch a film, you coming?' Phoebes voice came through the door. I listened to it and replayed her sweet voice in my head. Oh how she sounded like Lizzie. I didn't answer and she must have thought I was asleep because she went away. Half an hour later I got up and went out in to the kitchen. Joey had gone out on a date and was left alone. I went over to the drawer and pulled put a sharp knife. As I ran it across my hand I watched as the red blood came oozing out. I smiled with satisfaction that I was in control of the pain now. Endorphins rushed through my body naturally to help me mentally deal with the 'trauma' of the situation. I barley noticed it. With all the pain my dad caused me for years I became desensitised to it.
I move the knife over my arms, causing more and more pain, everything becoming less and less important to the pain I was inflicting on myself. I walked over to the sink and ran the water until it was boiling hot and then stuck my arm under it. I screamed out in pain as it reached my open wounds and wallowed in the felling afterwards. That was the feeling I was addicted to now.
Suddenly the door flew open I was standing face to face with Monica. As she stared at me grief filled my eyes as she discovered I was going through the same problem I ad faced years ago. She picked up a towel and placed it against the cuts, causing me to whimper slightly. She held me head against her chest and rocked me back and forth. Little did she know that my terrifying past had come back to haunt me.
Well shall I continue? I don't really know what this is yet, it just came to me. But then again that's how some of the best stories are written. If I get good reviews then I will defiantly continue. Go ahead it don't take that long. Press the button; you know you want to ;)