All disclaimers and warnings still apply.
X X X X X
Merton at four was a very skinny, scrawny kid with a disorderly mop of black hair. He hated sitting still long enough for Mommy to comb it, there were so many things to do with Vince and his little sister Becky. Becky wasn't quite two yet, but she could already talk and run a little. She would even say hi to Vince.
Right now, Vince was making peanut-butter and jelly sandwiches for supper because Mommy was working late at the office and Daddy... well, Daddy wasn't a good cook anyway. Daddy was taking a nap on the couch, so they had to be really quiet so they wouldn't wake him. Daddy got cranky when he got woken up.
"Soup's on!" Vince declared brightly, setting the plate of sandwiches on the table with a flourish.
Merton giggled. "S'not soup, Vince, it's samwiches."
The taller, green-haired boy - who was really old, at ~least~ ten - grinned and wiggled his eyebrows. "Just eat up, little buddy."
Merton didn't need telling twice; he'd been hungry since Daddy'd come home and the babysitter left. Becky ate the littler bits of sandwich that he tore off for her, and Vince sat down on the chair opposite Merton's to make faces at her. She and Merton laughed at him, but Merton was careful when he drank his milk. Once he'd forgotten to be careful and laughed milk right up his nose. That'd felt funny.
Becky didn't have any obstacles. She squealed loudly, clapping her pudgy little hands as Vince poked her pink belly where it showed between her little shirt and her diaper. Not two seconds later, though, there was an even louder groan from the darkened living room. Merton's mouth went dry and the bite of sandwich stuck in his throat. They'd woken Daddy.
The thundering footsteps of their father was like a knell of doom. Merton desperately tried t hush Becky, but she wouldn't stop squealing even when Vince disappeared as he tended to do when Daddy showed up. Daddy had made it quite clear that he hated it when Merton talked to his friend, which Merton thought was really unfair.
Daddy staggered into the kitchen, his work clothes rumpled from sleeping in them. His bloodshot eyes scanned around the room, then focused on Becky, who finally stopped her gleeful shrieks. She peered innocently up at her father, who just sneered and headed straight for the fridge. He pulled out a beer, opened it, and drank it all in about twenty seconds. After he crushed the can, he looked at Merton accusatorily.
"Where's your mother?" he growled, taking out another beer and opening it as he sat in the stop Vince had vacated.
"M-mommy said she was working late tonight," Merton said, trying not to show his fear. Daddy got mad when Merton was afraid of him.
"Finish your sandwich and get my smokes from my car," Daddy said, sipping his beer.
Merton resisted a relieved sigh. Maybe Daddy wouldn't be mean tonight and then maybe Merton could get up to his room early and play with Vince before bedtime. He quickly downed the rest of his sandwich, but when he reached for his milk to wash it all down, his nervous fingers couldn't get a grip on the slick glass. It slipped out of his grip and fell to the table, spilling milk straight into Daddy's lap before rolling onto the floor and breaking.
Daddy leapt up with a startled yelp that Merton would've giggled at if he hadn't been so afraid. Merton jumped up, too, and began sputtering apologies as he grabbed the dishcloth from the sink, carefully avoiding the broken glass.
"I'm sorry, Daddy, I didn't mean to, it was an accident, really, I'm sorry," he said all in one breath as he began to mop up the mess. Already he could feel his bottom lip quivering, trying to hold back the frightened tears. Daddy hated it when Merton cried.
Daddy didn't listen to the babbling of his son. He reached over the table and slapped him hard across the face. Merton went sprawling to the floor, hand landing on a sharp triangle of glass. He cried out, then began to sob in earnest, even as Becky began to wail.
"Look what you've done now, you goddamn clumsy idiot!" Daddy snarled, coming to grab Merton by the wrist of his hurt hand. Daddy plucked the glass from his palm carelessly, then wrapped a dish towel around the cut. "Now go get my goddamn cigarettes out of my car before I get angry!"
"Y-yessir," Merton mumbled before he dashed to obey, cheeks still stinging from the slap.
When he returned with the pack of cigarettes in his hand, Daddy had swept the floor and wiped up the spill, but Becky was still screaming. Merton went to her and picked her up. She calmed as soon as she wrapped her chunky little arms around his neck. She was getting almost too heavy for him to carry, but it was better than Daddy deciding that Becky needed a good slap to shut her up.
Daddy watched with a funny look on his face. "You two don't look anything alike, you know? You never were as cute as Becky. Ugly little shit. Can't see why she likes you so much."
Merton flushed with shame, but didn't respond. Daddy lit up a cigarette and took a long drag. He blew the smoke into Merton's face. The boy coughed - so did Becky. The man scowled like it was Merton's fault.
"Put her in the living room and get your skinny ass over here," he ordered.
A feeling of dread filled Merton, and his legs shook as he once again obeyed. He put Becky in her playpen, but before he went back, Vince appeared and ruffled his hair.
"It'll be okay, buddy. Vince'll watch Becky, and when Mommy gets home we'll go play Clue, okay?"
"Okay," Merton whispered back. Vince bent down and gave Merton a quick hug.
"What's taking so goddamn long? Get in here," Daddy said loudly from the kitchen.
"I gotta go," Merton said reluctantly. Vince nodded and let him go with dragging feet back to the kitchen.
Daddy was waiting for him, watching him with those cruel eyes. He shivered and bit his lip to keep it still.
"C'mere," his father commanded.
His legs moved automatically, feeling like robot legs instead of his own. He wanted to run away, but after the last time he did that, he knew he never would again. He'd had to stay in bed for a week after that. Daddy had told Mommy that Merton had fallen down the stairs. Merton didn't know why Daddy didn't let Mommy know that he punished him, but he did understand that he was safer when Mommy was home. Though sometimes, not even Mommy's presence could keep him safe. Daddy sometimes would just take him down into the basement and hit him there, then turn off all the lights and lock the doors. There were rats in the basement, sometimes, and if he fell asleep they'd bite his arms and legs. He hated the basement.
As soon as he reached Daddy's side, the man spun him around by the shoulders and flipped up the back of his shirt. Then there was a horrible burning pain at the small of his back. He shouted before his father cuffed him and snarled at him to be quiet and take his licks like a man. That didn't stop the fit of coughing sobs that escaped from Merton's lungs. Daddy stuck the bent cigarette butt in the ashtray.
"Don't you start crying, you wuss, or I'll ~really~ give you something to cry about," Daddy said callously, one of his favorite - and most effective - threats. "Now go get a freaking band-aid for your hand. Your mom won't like that you bled all over her white towel."
Sniffling and whimpering like a kicked dog, Merton slunk out of the kitchen. It was better if he just did as he was told. He'd rebelled once, he'd run into the neighbor's garage and hid. When Daddy finally found him, he'd been madder than Merton had ever seen before. Then Daddy had taken him into the basement. When he was done, he got Mommy and pretended to be upset and scared because Merton had 'fallen' down the stairs.
Vince helped with the band-aids because they were on the top shelf of the medicine cabinet.
X X X X X
Merton had been having a good week. Monday was his first day at kindergarten. He loved it. He'd never been around so many other kids, so he didn't really know how to act. He was shy, but he liked to play pretend with a couple of the others. They were almost as good as Vince, who didn't like school so had stayed home. But there were two big, mean boys who picked on him. They called him some of the same names his Daddy did. But mean boys aside, he liked kindergarten. He could already count to a hundred. Mommy was happy, but Daddy just frowned at him.
Still, Daddy took him to the baseball diamond on Tuesday and shown him how to play catch. He wasn't very good yet, but maybe if Daddy helped him practice he'd get better. Afterwards they'd gone out for ice-cream, and Daddy had even smiled at him. Maybe Daddy had decided he wasn't a noying, whatever that was. It sounded like a worm. Merton didn't want his father to think he was a worm.
But when he woke up in the middle of the night to a familiar wetness in his bed, Merton wanted to cry. He'd done it again. He couldn't help it, though. He'd drunk all that milk at dinner, and then had dreams about going fishing with Daddy on a rushing river. It wasn't his fault he wet the bed. Anyone would have, right?
Daddy wouldn't think so. Daddy got mad when Merton wet the bed. He always said that Merton was three years too old to be pissing his pants, even if he was asleep at the time. Last time this happened, Daddy had taken him into the basement. Merton shuddered at the memory.
Maybe... maybe he could handle this himself, without waking up Mommy and Daddy. Then they wouldn't know and Daddy wouldn't get mad at him. He nodded to himself and got out of bed, quickly slipping out of his sodden, smelly pyjamas and into clean ones. Then he stripped the sheets from the bed, and piled them with his pyjamas. Then he gingerly picked the bunch up and snuck out of his room. The washer and dryer were in a room next to the kitchen. If he could just make it down there without waking Mommy and Daddy -
Just as he was passing their room, he stepped on a squeaking floorboard. And froze, listening. His heart pounded, his breathing was fast and shallow. Had he woken his parents up? Would they realize what he was up to? When, after what seemed like an eternity, he hadn't heard anything and breathed a little sigh of relief. He gathered his nerves together and continued on his way. He was nearly to the top of the stairs when a heavy, threatening hand landed on his shoulder and he jumped about as high as he was tall.
"What do you think you're doing, stomping around the house at this hour?" Daddy's voice asked, gravelly from sleep. "What are you carrying?"
"N-nothing," Merton lied, then wished he hadn't. Daddy shook him so hard his teeth rattled.
"Don't fucking lie, you stupid brat. I'm not blind, you know," his father said. Then his voice became more cruel, if that was possible. "You wet the bed again, didn't you?"
Merton felt his mouth working, but no sound would come out. His vocal chords were paralyzed as the rest of him. Then Daddy was forcing him to walk down the stairs, following close behind. Merton felt tears of sheer terror seeping from his eyes, even if he couldn't cry out loud. Daddy shoved him into the laundry room, then took the bundle of soiled sheets from his son. He put them in the washer and started a cycle. Then he turned on Merton with a murderous glint in his eyes.
"You were going to try and ~hide~ it from me, boy? You thought I wouldn't know? I'll ~always~ know, Merton. I can smell it on you. You're a filthy, stinking little bed-wetter. Look at me when I'm talking to you!" he hissed dangerously when Merton hung his head and stared at the floor. Merton's head snapped up, but apparently some of his sullenness had crept into his expression. "Don't look at me that way, you little shit."
The backhanded slap knocked Merton to the floor. Blood began to drip from his nose. His father picked him up by the front of his pyjamas, then peeled the shirt off. He grabbed a belt that had been on the floor since he'd washed his dress slacks last week. He kicked the door shut before he shoved Merton against the wall, grinding the boy's cheek into the textured plaster.
Merton heard the whistle in the air and tensed a second before the first lash fell. He gave a strangled gasp. It hurt worse than punches, worse than slaps, almost worse than burns. And they didn't stop coming, either. Lash after lash came down on his back, and it hurt so bad that he couldn't stop the hiccoughing sobs that issued from his throat. Daddy hissed insult after insult at him, careful not to raise his voice lest Mommy hear. Merton couldn't really hear the words anyway, his blood was roaring in his ears so loud he couldn't even hear the sound of the belt hitting his back, which felt wet now. He was sure he was bleeding, but that wasn't exactly new. When Daddy got made enough, he'd wear all his rings to punch Merton. Rings made dents and cuts that hurt worse than normal bruises.
The world was getting harder to concentrate on, and Merton felt so dizzy. He closed his eyes and the world seemed to spin. He tired to open his eyes again, because he was certain he'd be sick if he kept spinning like this, but then he was falling, and he didn't stop even after he hit the floor...
X X X X X
Vince had plasma bolts. And laser eye-beams. Merton had discovered this one night when he was in the basement, his back still oozing slowly from a whipping. Mom had gone for the weekend on business, leaving Merton and Becky in the tender care of their father. Dad had lost his job, too, which made him extra mean. When Merton had come home with an A+ on his math quiz, Dad started yelling something about him thinking he was too smart for his own good. Mom would have put the paper on the fridge, but Dad tore it to pieces and threw them away.
And, stupidity of studipities, Merton had objected. He'd tried to get the paper away, and that had snapped Dad's short leash on his temper. Out came the belt and the only witness was a four-year-old Becky, who cried and cried until Dad told her to go upstairs or she'd get the same. That scared Merton more than anything. Dad would do this to Becky? Something inside him became sick at the thought.
"I won't let him get Becky, too," he told Vince, who sat beside him on the steps. "He can do what he wants to me, but not Becky."
Vince nodded, looking as serious as a thirteen-year-old with green peachfuzz could look. "Vince feels the same way about Merton."
Merton sighed. "Yeah, I know. Too bad Dad can't see you."
Just then, a very daring rat neither boy had noticed creeping up the stairs took a bite out of Merton's ankle. The younger boy gave a startled yip. Vince's face twisted with anger, his eyes glowing green for a second before twin balls of energy struck the offending rodent, which squealed an ear-splittingly high death note before it disappeared into a pile of smoking ashes. Merton felt his eyes become the size of dinner plates. He looked up at Vince to see his shock mirrored in his best friend's face.
"What was that?" he asked, breathless with excitement, a smile creeping over his face.
"Vince doesn't know. He was just so ~mad~ at the rat for trying to hurt you, he couldn't stop himself. It's never happened before," Vince said, just as excited but more puzzled.
"Cool! You've got super powers! Can you fly?" Merton asked animatedly.
"Vince'll try," Vince said, standing and brushing off his striped pants and rolling up his loudly checked sleeves. As he leapt from the stairs, he shouted, "Up, up, and away!"
And promptly fell down and rolled to the foot of the stairs. He was okay, of course, being invincible and all, but Merton still winced in sympathy.
"Okay, so you can't fly. What else can you do?" he asked.
They spent the rest of the night testing for powers. When it was proven that Vince, while stronger than Merton by far, couldn't bend steel, got tangled in the cape Merton made for him out of the towel he'd used to keep from getting blood on the stairs, and wouldn't even try to read Merton's mind, they gave up. But they'd had fun, and when it came time to go to sleep, Merton curled his small frame almost comfortably onto a stair, covered with the erstwhile-cape, with Vince sitting in front of him to keep watch for rats.
TBC...
Review, please. ^_^
X X X X X
Merton at four was a very skinny, scrawny kid with a disorderly mop of black hair. He hated sitting still long enough for Mommy to comb it, there were so many things to do with Vince and his little sister Becky. Becky wasn't quite two yet, but she could already talk and run a little. She would even say hi to Vince.
Right now, Vince was making peanut-butter and jelly sandwiches for supper because Mommy was working late at the office and Daddy... well, Daddy wasn't a good cook anyway. Daddy was taking a nap on the couch, so they had to be really quiet so they wouldn't wake him. Daddy got cranky when he got woken up.
"Soup's on!" Vince declared brightly, setting the plate of sandwiches on the table with a flourish.
Merton giggled. "S'not soup, Vince, it's samwiches."
The taller, green-haired boy - who was really old, at ~least~ ten - grinned and wiggled his eyebrows. "Just eat up, little buddy."
Merton didn't need telling twice; he'd been hungry since Daddy'd come home and the babysitter left. Becky ate the littler bits of sandwich that he tore off for her, and Vince sat down on the chair opposite Merton's to make faces at her. She and Merton laughed at him, but Merton was careful when he drank his milk. Once he'd forgotten to be careful and laughed milk right up his nose. That'd felt funny.
Becky didn't have any obstacles. She squealed loudly, clapping her pudgy little hands as Vince poked her pink belly where it showed between her little shirt and her diaper. Not two seconds later, though, there was an even louder groan from the darkened living room. Merton's mouth went dry and the bite of sandwich stuck in his throat. They'd woken Daddy.
The thundering footsteps of their father was like a knell of doom. Merton desperately tried t hush Becky, but she wouldn't stop squealing even when Vince disappeared as he tended to do when Daddy showed up. Daddy had made it quite clear that he hated it when Merton talked to his friend, which Merton thought was really unfair.
Daddy staggered into the kitchen, his work clothes rumpled from sleeping in them. His bloodshot eyes scanned around the room, then focused on Becky, who finally stopped her gleeful shrieks. She peered innocently up at her father, who just sneered and headed straight for the fridge. He pulled out a beer, opened it, and drank it all in about twenty seconds. After he crushed the can, he looked at Merton accusatorily.
"Where's your mother?" he growled, taking out another beer and opening it as he sat in the stop Vince had vacated.
"M-mommy said she was working late tonight," Merton said, trying not to show his fear. Daddy got mad when Merton was afraid of him.
"Finish your sandwich and get my smokes from my car," Daddy said, sipping his beer.
Merton resisted a relieved sigh. Maybe Daddy wouldn't be mean tonight and then maybe Merton could get up to his room early and play with Vince before bedtime. He quickly downed the rest of his sandwich, but when he reached for his milk to wash it all down, his nervous fingers couldn't get a grip on the slick glass. It slipped out of his grip and fell to the table, spilling milk straight into Daddy's lap before rolling onto the floor and breaking.
Daddy leapt up with a startled yelp that Merton would've giggled at if he hadn't been so afraid. Merton jumped up, too, and began sputtering apologies as he grabbed the dishcloth from the sink, carefully avoiding the broken glass.
"I'm sorry, Daddy, I didn't mean to, it was an accident, really, I'm sorry," he said all in one breath as he began to mop up the mess. Already he could feel his bottom lip quivering, trying to hold back the frightened tears. Daddy hated it when Merton cried.
Daddy didn't listen to the babbling of his son. He reached over the table and slapped him hard across the face. Merton went sprawling to the floor, hand landing on a sharp triangle of glass. He cried out, then began to sob in earnest, even as Becky began to wail.
"Look what you've done now, you goddamn clumsy idiot!" Daddy snarled, coming to grab Merton by the wrist of his hurt hand. Daddy plucked the glass from his palm carelessly, then wrapped a dish towel around the cut. "Now go get my goddamn cigarettes out of my car before I get angry!"
"Y-yessir," Merton mumbled before he dashed to obey, cheeks still stinging from the slap.
When he returned with the pack of cigarettes in his hand, Daddy had swept the floor and wiped up the spill, but Becky was still screaming. Merton went to her and picked her up. She calmed as soon as she wrapped her chunky little arms around his neck. She was getting almost too heavy for him to carry, but it was better than Daddy deciding that Becky needed a good slap to shut her up.
Daddy watched with a funny look on his face. "You two don't look anything alike, you know? You never were as cute as Becky. Ugly little shit. Can't see why she likes you so much."
Merton flushed with shame, but didn't respond. Daddy lit up a cigarette and took a long drag. He blew the smoke into Merton's face. The boy coughed - so did Becky. The man scowled like it was Merton's fault.
"Put her in the living room and get your skinny ass over here," he ordered.
A feeling of dread filled Merton, and his legs shook as he once again obeyed. He put Becky in her playpen, but before he went back, Vince appeared and ruffled his hair.
"It'll be okay, buddy. Vince'll watch Becky, and when Mommy gets home we'll go play Clue, okay?"
"Okay," Merton whispered back. Vince bent down and gave Merton a quick hug.
"What's taking so goddamn long? Get in here," Daddy said loudly from the kitchen.
"I gotta go," Merton said reluctantly. Vince nodded and let him go with dragging feet back to the kitchen.
Daddy was waiting for him, watching him with those cruel eyes. He shivered and bit his lip to keep it still.
"C'mere," his father commanded.
His legs moved automatically, feeling like robot legs instead of his own. He wanted to run away, but after the last time he did that, he knew he never would again. He'd had to stay in bed for a week after that. Daddy had told Mommy that Merton had fallen down the stairs. Merton didn't know why Daddy didn't let Mommy know that he punished him, but he did understand that he was safer when Mommy was home. Though sometimes, not even Mommy's presence could keep him safe. Daddy sometimes would just take him down into the basement and hit him there, then turn off all the lights and lock the doors. There were rats in the basement, sometimes, and if he fell asleep they'd bite his arms and legs. He hated the basement.
As soon as he reached Daddy's side, the man spun him around by the shoulders and flipped up the back of his shirt. Then there was a horrible burning pain at the small of his back. He shouted before his father cuffed him and snarled at him to be quiet and take his licks like a man. That didn't stop the fit of coughing sobs that escaped from Merton's lungs. Daddy stuck the bent cigarette butt in the ashtray.
"Don't you start crying, you wuss, or I'll ~really~ give you something to cry about," Daddy said callously, one of his favorite - and most effective - threats. "Now go get a freaking band-aid for your hand. Your mom won't like that you bled all over her white towel."
Sniffling and whimpering like a kicked dog, Merton slunk out of the kitchen. It was better if he just did as he was told. He'd rebelled once, he'd run into the neighbor's garage and hid. When Daddy finally found him, he'd been madder than Merton had ever seen before. Then Daddy had taken him into the basement. When he was done, he got Mommy and pretended to be upset and scared because Merton had 'fallen' down the stairs.
Vince helped with the band-aids because they were on the top shelf of the medicine cabinet.
X X X X X
Merton had been having a good week. Monday was his first day at kindergarten. He loved it. He'd never been around so many other kids, so he didn't really know how to act. He was shy, but he liked to play pretend with a couple of the others. They were almost as good as Vince, who didn't like school so had stayed home. But there were two big, mean boys who picked on him. They called him some of the same names his Daddy did. But mean boys aside, he liked kindergarten. He could already count to a hundred. Mommy was happy, but Daddy just frowned at him.
Still, Daddy took him to the baseball diamond on Tuesday and shown him how to play catch. He wasn't very good yet, but maybe if Daddy helped him practice he'd get better. Afterwards they'd gone out for ice-cream, and Daddy had even smiled at him. Maybe Daddy had decided he wasn't a noying, whatever that was. It sounded like a worm. Merton didn't want his father to think he was a worm.
But when he woke up in the middle of the night to a familiar wetness in his bed, Merton wanted to cry. He'd done it again. He couldn't help it, though. He'd drunk all that milk at dinner, and then had dreams about going fishing with Daddy on a rushing river. It wasn't his fault he wet the bed. Anyone would have, right?
Daddy wouldn't think so. Daddy got mad when Merton wet the bed. He always said that Merton was three years too old to be pissing his pants, even if he was asleep at the time. Last time this happened, Daddy had taken him into the basement. Merton shuddered at the memory.
Maybe... maybe he could handle this himself, without waking up Mommy and Daddy. Then they wouldn't know and Daddy wouldn't get mad at him. He nodded to himself and got out of bed, quickly slipping out of his sodden, smelly pyjamas and into clean ones. Then he stripped the sheets from the bed, and piled them with his pyjamas. Then he gingerly picked the bunch up and snuck out of his room. The washer and dryer were in a room next to the kitchen. If he could just make it down there without waking Mommy and Daddy -
Just as he was passing their room, he stepped on a squeaking floorboard. And froze, listening. His heart pounded, his breathing was fast and shallow. Had he woken his parents up? Would they realize what he was up to? When, after what seemed like an eternity, he hadn't heard anything and breathed a little sigh of relief. He gathered his nerves together and continued on his way. He was nearly to the top of the stairs when a heavy, threatening hand landed on his shoulder and he jumped about as high as he was tall.
"What do you think you're doing, stomping around the house at this hour?" Daddy's voice asked, gravelly from sleep. "What are you carrying?"
"N-nothing," Merton lied, then wished he hadn't. Daddy shook him so hard his teeth rattled.
"Don't fucking lie, you stupid brat. I'm not blind, you know," his father said. Then his voice became more cruel, if that was possible. "You wet the bed again, didn't you?"
Merton felt his mouth working, but no sound would come out. His vocal chords were paralyzed as the rest of him. Then Daddy was forcing him to walk down the stairs, following close behind. Merton felt tears of sheer terror seeping from his eyes, even if he couldn't cry out loud. Daddy shoved him into the laundry room, then took the bundle of soiled sheets from his son. He put them in the washer and started a cycle. Then he turned on Merton with a murderous glint in his eyes.
"You were going to try and ~hide~ it from me, boy? You thought I wouldn't know? I'll ~always~ know, Merton. I can smell it on you. You're a filthy, stinking little bed-wetter. Look at me when I'm talking to you!" he hissed dangerously when Merton hung his head and stared at the floor. Merton's head snapped up, but apparently some of his sullenness had crept into his expression. "Don't look at me that way, you little shit."
The backhanded slap knocked Merton to the floor. Blood began to drip from his nose. His father picked him up by the front of his pyjamas, then peeled the shirt off. He grabbed a belt that had been on the floor since he'd washed his dress slacks last week. He kicked the door shut before he shoved Merton against the wall, grinding the boy's cheek into the textured plaster.
Merton heard the whistle in the air and tensed a second before the first lash fell. He gave a strangled gasp. It hurt worse than punches, worse than slaps, almost worse than burns. And they didn't stop coming, either. Lash after lash came down on his back, and it hurt so bad that he couldn't stop the hiccoughing sobs that issued from his throat. Daddy hissed insult after insult at him, careful not to raise his voice lest Mommy hear. Merton couldn't really hear the words anyway, his blood was roaring in his ears so loud he couldn't even hear the sound of the belt hitting his back, which felt wet now. He was sure he was bleeding, but that wasn't exactly new. When Daddy got made enough, he'd wear all his rings to punch Merton. Rings made dents and cuts that hurt worse than normal bruises.
The world was getting harder to concentrate on, and Merton felt so dizzy. He closed his eyes and the world seemed to spin. He tired to open his eyes again, because he was certain he'd be sick if he kept spinning like this, but then he was falling, and he didn't stop even after he hit the floor...
X X X X X
Vince had plasma bolts. And laser eye-beams. Merton had discovered this one night when he was in the basement, his back still oozing slowly from a whipping. Mom had gone for the weekend on business, leaving Merton and Becky in the tender care of their father. Dad had lost his job, too, which made him extra mean. When Merton had come home with an A+ on his math quiz, Dad started yelling something about him thinking he was too smart for his own good. Mom would have put the paper on the fridge, but Dad tore it to pieces and threw them away.
And, stupidity of studipities, Merton had objected. He'd tried to get the paper away, and that had snapped Dad's short leash on his temper. Out came the belt and the only witness was a four-year-old Becky, who cried and cried until Dad told her to go upstairs or she'd get the same. That scared Merton more than anything. Dad would do this to Becky? Something inside him became sick at the thought.
"I won't let him get Becky, too," he told Vince, who sat beside him on the steps. "He can do what he wants to me, but not Becky."
Vince nodded, looking as serious as a thirteen-year-old with green peachfuzz could look. "Vince feels the same way about Merton."
Merton sighed. "Yeah, I know. Too bad Dad can't see you."
Just then, a very daring rat neither boy had noticed creeping up the stairs took a bite out of Merton's ankle. The younger boy gave a startled yip. Vince's face twisted with anger, his eyes glowing green for a second before twin balls of energy struck the offending rodent, which squealed an ear-splittingly high death note before it disappeared into a pile of smoking ashes. Merton felt his eyes become the size of dinner plates. He looked up at Vince to see his shock mirrored in his best friend's face.
"What was that?" he asked, breathless with excitement, a smile creeping over his face.
"Vince doesn't know. He was just so ~mad~ at the rat for trying to hurt you, he couldn't stop himself. It's never happened before," Vince said, just as excited but more puzzled.
"Cool! You've got super powers! Can you fly?" Merton asked animatedly.
"Vince'll try," Vince said, standing and brushing off his striped pants and rolling up his loudly checked sleeves. As he leapt from the stairs, he shouted, "Up, up, and away!"
And promptly fell down and rolled to the foot of the stairs. He was okay, of course, being invincible and all, but Merton still winced in sympathy.
"Okay, so you can't fly. What else can you do?" he asked.
They spent the rest of the night testing for powers. When it was proven that Vince, while stronger than Merton by far, couldn't bend steel, got tangled in the cape Merton made for him out of the towel he'd used to keep from getting blood on the stairs, and wouldn't even try to read Merton's mind, they gave up. But they'd had fun, and when it came time to go to sleep, Merton curled his small frame almost comfortably onto a stair, covered with the erstwhile-cape, with Vince sitting in front of him to keep watch for rats.
TBC...
Review, please. ^_^