All disclaimers and warnings still apply.
X X X X X
Merton bounced in his seat, glancing at the clock every two seconds. It was almost recess. He could hardly wait. It was Becky's first day at school, and he was worried about her. His first day hadn't gone very well, considering Tim and Travis had made fun of him for talking to Vince on the playground. After that, Vince decided to stay home. Merton didn't blame him, school could be really awful. He just wanted to make sure that his sister was doing fine, that she wasn't suffering the way he had.
Finally, the bell rang. Merton barely waited for the teacher to dismiss his class before he took off for the door, and then for outside. He would reserve the best two swings on the playground for him and his sister, and he could talk to her and make her laugh. Maybe then they could go play pretend or something. He didn't even think that his sister might've made friends. After all, ~he~ hadn't. He'd been looking forward to this day for a long time. He knew Becky liked him. At least now he'd have someone to talk to, even if she was only a girl.
He sat on his favorite swing and turned so his feet rested on the one next to him, effectively preventing any other children from taking them. When he saw Becky come out of the building, he waved and called to her. She waved back and came running to the swing set. So did another little girl. Merton blinked in surprise.
"Hey, Becky," he said cheerfully. "How's it going?"
"I like kindy-garden!" she bubbled, grinning from ear to ear. "Teacher is really nice to me, and this is my friend Christy. Christy, this is my brother Merton."
"Hi," Christy said shyly.
"Hi," Merton replied. The conversation stopped there, however, because just then a gang of boys from Merton's class surrounded them.
"Hey, freak," one of them called. "What're you doing talking to my little sister?"
"Yeah, weirdo," said another. "You're gonna give her cooties."
"Shut up," Merton said, glaring around him. "You guys just leave us alone."
"Who's your friend, Christy?" the first boy asked, eyeing Becky suspiciously. Becky blushed and looked down.
"She's Becky," Christy said.
"Why are you two hanging out with the freak? Don't you know he has germs?"
"Germs?" asked Christy with wide eyes. The gang of boys all nodded solemnly.
"Freak germs," one of them went on. "If he touches you, you get germs on you, and then you turn into a freak, too."
"Eww!" Christy said, wrinkling her little button nose.
"I don't have germs!" Merton protested angrily. He glanced over at Becky, looking for a little support. However, Becky was still staring at the ground, biting her lip.
"Do too," the boys insisted.
"Do not!"
"Do too!"
"Do not!"
The conversation deteriorated from there. The encounter ended with Tim and Travis pushing Merton off his swings and taking the seats for themselves. Merton got up to get away, but Tim came swinging down, careening right into him and sending him flying. He gasped for air, hoping the recess teacher saw the incident, but he new how these things worked. The bullies always had a distraction of some sort for cover before they even approached Merton. At least he had Becky here. He looked around for his sister to ask for her help in getting up, seeing as how he could barely breathe. He only became distressed when he couldn't find her.
Anger flooded through him. had they got his sister, too? Had they done what Dad had failed to do? He dragged himself up, panting. He scanned the playground, looking for the ring of children that denoted the confrontations between bullies and victims. There were none. He frowned, still searching. Then he spotted Becky's neon-pink zooba pants. She was sitting on top of the monkey bars with Christy - and Christy's brother. Merton felt his jaw drop as anger was replaced by shock and hurt.
Becky glanced at him. Their eyes locked for a brief moment before the girl simply looked away, turning back to her new friends.
X X X X X
Christmas vacation came as a great relief. Merton walked home alone; Becky had been riding to and from school with Christy and her family since the second day of kindergarten. The bright sunny day was perfect to be outside in. Vince walked along beside him, humming the Smurfs theme song as they tramped across the fresh snow that had been falling all day. They were content and looking forward two weeks full of icy adventures in the backyard, hot cocoa, and playing Clue. Things were as good as they were going to get for them.
"D'you think Becky will play with us now that she's not in school?" Vince asked. He missed Becky as much as Merton did. The dark-haired boy just shrugged. Vince sighed. "Is Dad home still?"
"Mom said he hasn't found another job yet, so I guess he will be," Merton explained.
"It's going to be a different kind of Christmas, isn't it, Merton?"
It was Merton's turn to sigh. "Yeah."
They got home later than usual because they had to make a detour to a neighbor's back yard to pick the long icicles that grew from the ledge of a small shed.. When they walked in the back door, Merton instantly knew something was wrong. He could hear crying from the basement, and the lower growl of his father. He couldn't make out the words, but he knew from experience what was probably being said. He peeled himself out of his heavy coat and dropped it and his bookbag on the floor, the icicles landing on top of it and shattering. Heedless, he pelted down the steep steps.
"You leave her alone!" he shouted before he even saw what was going on. Then he heard the sick slap of a palm on flesh and his vision became red around the edges. Dad held Becky down with one hand around the back of her neck, shoving her face against the rough concrete floor. He'd pulled the back of Becky's dress up so he could slap her back, thighs, and rear end. He looked up as Merton charged him.
Merton wasn't even really aware of what he was doing. He screamed and flailed his arms at his father, raining blow after blow down on the man, for all the good it did. Dad shouted in rage, turning on Merton. He easily fended off the attack, then closed a meaty fist around Merton's thin neck. Merton tried to gasp, but found he could barely breathe. He clawed at the fingers around his throat desperately as he found himself being lifted off the ground. His eyes rolled, his tongue lolled as he struggled to breathe. Vaguely he was aware of Becky sobbing loudly, and he wanted to tell her to run, that it was okay if she ran. He understood.
The world was getting dark around the edges. His head was spinning, and he had less and less strength with which to struggle. He felt so heavy. He could barely move his arms. He was going to die. If he could have sighed, he would have - as much in relief as in defeat. Then there was a bright flash of green light, and suddenly Merton was on the floor, coughing. When his vision returned, Dad was laying on the basement floor, too, and Becky was tugging on his arm.
"Merton, Merton, Merton," she sobbed, her face scraped and already bruising. Wordlessly, he gave her a hug and looked around for Vince. The older boy was at the foot of the stairs, gesturing wildly.
"Run! Run upstairs and hide in Becky's closet!" he commanded.
Merton had no problems obeying. He and Becky half ran, half supported each other up the flights of stairs, not stopping until they were safely behind the door to Becky's closet. They sat there in the dark for an eternity, holding onto each other and shaking. Merton had to keep shushing Becky because every few minutes her terrified sniffles threatened to become full-out sobs. If Dad heard them, they were as good as dead. The strain must have been too much for her, though, because she went from almost bawling to dead asleep within seconds.
Vince appeared shortly after. He wrapped an arm around Merton's shoulders, and it was Merton's turn to let loose. He sniffled and sniffled until he was so exhausted he could barely move. His throat really hurt, and he was grateful that he'd have two weeks for the bruises he knew were forming to heal. He didn't want the kids at school to know that his Dad had tried to kill him.
"Thanks, Vince," Merton whispered. He knew that the green flash he saw must have been Vince's plasma bolts. Vince had been longing to use them on Dad for a while now, but Merton had frobidden him to. Now, however, he really didn't mind. "If you hadn't stopped him - "
"No problem, little buddy. Vince would have been sad if Dad had killed you," the green-haired boy said seriously.
Just then, they heard a car door slam and an engine rumble to life. There was a screech of tires, and then... nothing. Vince sighed with relief. Merton looked up at him questioningly.
"He's gone," Vince told him. "Vince got rid of him."
"Gone? For good?" Merton asked, receiving a vigorous nod. Dad was gone. He'd never see Merton again. Profound relief flooded through him, because he knew that if Dad ever came back, he'd get a beating to make all his other ones seem like mere slaps on the wrist.
"Get some sleep, buddy. Mom won't be home for a while yet," Vince said, gently pushing Merton down next to Becky on the pile of stuffed animals and dress-up clothes that littered the floor of Becky's closet. Gratefully, Merton laid down, and still euphoric with relief, slept exhaustedly.
X X X X X
Merton stared up at his ceiling, wondering how the place he used to fear the most had become his sanctuary. After his step-father had remodeled it, the basement had seemed worlds away from the horrific place he'd been punished in. And with all his gothic decorations, books, television, CD player, and all inevitable stuff teenagers managed to collect, it seemed as if his room ~was~ another world, seperate from the house the rest of his family lived in. That was why he called it the Lair.
Becky never remembered any of it. When Mom had come home and found the two of them cowering in the closet, she'd been hysterical. She'd questioned them both, but Becky couldn't answer any of the inquiries. When Mom had accepted the truth - which she did quite easily, and that made Merton wonder if Dad hadn't hit her, too. He never felt brave enough to ask, though. - she forbade Merton from telling Becky about it. Saying something like, what she doesn't know won't hurt her. Too young to know better, Merton agreed.
No one in their family was heartbroken over the sudden disappearance of Mr. Dingle, and their neighbors chose to ignore the entire incident. No one was particularly surprised when Mrs. Dingle remarried that summer. Merton got to be the ringbearer. He didn't like his new father too much, but at least he didn't get hit anymore. He'd been happy to just fade into the background, just let Mom and his step-father moon over Becky and her preciousness. His own accomplishments were not so meager, either. He'd been getting straight A-plusses since Dad left, but no one seem to care anymore.
Merton snorted. He bet they wouldn't have cared if he'd flunked out of school. He bet that if he just vanished one day like his father, no one would notice. He bet if he committed suicide in his shower, Becky would whine about having to clean up the blood.
Well, perhaps that was a little unfair.
Still, though, after five hours of sitting in his favorite thinking chair, sipping Yoo-Hoo to calm his nerves, and listening to his Tool CD, he was no closer to a decision. Would he go? Would he confront his fears like any person with the least amount o self-confidence and courage would? Or would he stay in his room, his Lair, and brood fearfully until Tommy and Lori came to confront ~him~ about what they'd undoubtedly learn from his father.
Would his father even try anything violent? After all, ten years was a long time to hold a grudge. Maybe all he wanted was to apologize, or to try and get to know him. While Merton found this very unlikely, he reasoned that maybe it was just his cynical, distrustful nature that led him to be suspicious. After all, when everyone he'd ever cared about had betrayed him - Dad first, then Becky, then Mom - how could anyone expect him to trust anyone? He'd learned that fateful day on the playground that the first rule of survival was "Look out for number one."
Now he was starting to see the flaws in what had become his personal mantra. Tommy and Lori had somehow wormed their way past his best defenses. He trusted them - almost against his will. And yet, many times when the pressure was on he'd slipped back into his old patterns. He'd left them alone to fight many times and tried to weasle his way out of trouble at their expense just as often. He really was too selfish to have such good friends. He didn't know what they saw in him.
// "Can't see why she likes you so much." //
"Ugly little shit," Merton muttered to himself with a self-mocking smile, repeating the oft-used insult. Sometimes, he thought he understood why his father hated him so much. He hated himself, too. Perhaps that was one of the scariest things he'd had to come to terms with. He actually felt sometimes that his father might have been justified. Maybe if Dad ~had~ killed him...
Merton let the thought trail off. That was another frightening thing. He distinctly remembered being relieved when he thought he'd die that night. How messed up can one child be? What kind of seven-year-old welcomes death?
What kind of eighteen-year-old does, for that matter?
Merton sighed tiredly, shifting on his chair and running his fingers through his hair. He hadn't bothered to but it back into spikes after his shower, seeing as how he wouldn't be going out, and now was glad that he could indulge in his favored nervouse gesture without getting his hand stuck halfway.
He couldn't stay. He couldn't go.
He couldn't go. He couldn't stay.
He couldn't decide.
TBC....
Sorry about the wishy-washy ending, but I promise the next chapter will be better. Review, okay? Pretty please?
X X X X X
Merton bounced in his seat, glancing at the clock every two seconds. It was almost recess. He could hardly wait. It was Becky's first day at school, and he was worried about her. His first day hadn't gone very well, considering Tim and Travis had made fun of him for talking to Vince on the playground. After that, Vince decided to stay home. Merton didn't blame him, school could be really awful. He just wanted to make sure that his sister was doing fine, that she wasn't suffering the way he had.
Finally, the bell rang. Merton barely waited for the teacher to dismiss his class before he took off for the door, and then for outside. He would reserve the best two swings on the playground for him and his sister, and he could talk to her and make her laugh. Maybe then they could go play pretend or something. He didn't even think that his sister might've made friends. After all, ~he~ hadn't. He'd been looking forward to this day for a long time. He knew Becky liked him. At least now he'd have someone to talk to, even if she was only a girl.
He sat on his favorite swing and turned so his feet rested on the one next to him, effectively preventing any other children from taking them. When he saw Becky come out of the building, he waved and called to her. She waved back and came running to the swing set. So did another little girl. Merton blinked in surprise.
"Hey, Becky," he said cheerfully. "How's it going?"
"I like kindy-garden!" she bubbled, grinning from ear to ear. "Teacher is really nice to me, and this is my friend Christy. Christy, this is my brother Merton."
"Hi," Christy said shyly.
"Hi," Merton replied. The conversation stopped there, however, because just then a gang of boys from Merton's class surrounded them.
"Hey, freak," one of them called. "What're you doing talking to my little sister?"
"Yeah, weirdo," said another. "You're gonna give her cooties."
"Shut up," Merton said, glaring around him. "You guys just leave us alone."
"Who's your friend, Christy?" the first boy asked, eyeing Becky suspiciously. Becky blushed and looked down.
"She's Becky," Christy said.
"Why are you two hanging out with the freak? Don't you know he has germs?"
"Germs?" asked Christy with wide eyes. The gang of boys all nodded solemnly.
"Freak germs," one of them went on. "If he touches you, you get germs on you, and then you turn into a freak, too."
"Eww!" Christy said, wrinkling her little button nose.
"I don't have germs!" Merton protested angrily. He glanced over at Becky, looking for a little support. However, Becky was still staring at the ground, biting her lip.
"Do too," the boys insisted.
"Do not!"
"Do too!"
"Do not!"
The conversation deteriorated from there. The encounter ended with Tim and Travis pushing Merton off his swings and taking the seats for themselves. Merton got up to get away, but Tim came swinging down, careening right into him and sending him flying. He gasped for air, hoping the recess teacher saw the incident, but he new how these things worked. The bullies always had a distraction of some sort for cover before they even approached Merton. At least he had Becky here. He looked around for his sister to ask for her help in getting up, seeing as how he could barely breathe. He only became distressed when he couldn't find her.
Anger flooded through him. had they got his sister, too? Had they done what Dad had failed to do? He dragged himself up, panting. He scanned the playground, looking for the ring of children that denoted the confrontations between bullies and victims. There were none. He frowned, still searching. Then he spotted Becky's neon-pink zooba pants. She was sitting on top of the monkey bars with Christy - and Christy's brother. Merton felt his jaw drop as anger was replaced by shock and hurt.
Becky glanced at him. Their eyes locked for a brief moment before the girl simply looked away, turning back to her new friends.
X X X X X
Christmas vacation came as a great relief. Merton walked home alone; Becky had been riding to and from school with Christy and her family since the second day of kindergarten. The bright sunny day was perfect to be outside in. Vince walked along beside him, humming the Smurfs theme song as they tramped across the fresh snow that had been falling all day. They were content and looking forward two weeks full of icy adventures in the backyard, hot cocoa, and playing Clue. Things were as good as they were going to get for them.
"D'you think Becky will play with us now that she's not in school?" Vince asked. He missed Becky as much as Merton did. The dark-haired boy just shrugged. Vince sighed. "Is Dad home still?"
"Mom said he hasn't found another job yet, so I guess he will be," Merton explained.
"It's going to be a different kind of Christmas, isn't it, Merton?"
It was Merton's turn to sigh. "Yeah."
They got home later than usual because they had to make a detour to a neighbor's back yard to pick the long icicles that grew from the ledge of a small shed.. When they walked in the back door, Merton instantly knew something was wrong. He could hear crying from the basement, and the lower growl of his father. He couldn't make out the words, but he knew from experience what was probably being said. He peeled himself out of his heavy coat and dropped it and his bookbag on the floor, the icicles landing on top of it and shattering. Heedless, he pelted down the steep steps.
"You leave her alone!" he shouted before he even saw what was going on. Then he heard the sick slap of a palm on flesh and his vision became red around the edges. Dad held Becky down with one hand around the back of her neck, shoving her face against the rough concrete floor. He'd pulled the back of Becky's dress up so he could slap her back, thighs, and rear end. He looked up as Merton charged him.
Merton wasn't even really aware of what he was doing. He screamed and flailed his arms at his father, raining blow after blow down on the man, for all the good it did. Dad shouted in rage, turning on Merton. He easily fended off the attack, then closed a meaty fist around Merton's thin neck. Merton tried to gasp, but found he could barely breathe. He clawed at the fingers around his throat desperately as he found himself being lifted off the ground. His eyes rolled, his tongue lolled as he struggled to breathe. Vaguely he was aware of Becky sobbing loudly, and he wanted to tell her to run, that it was okay if she ran. He understood.
The world was getting dark around the edges. His head was spinning, and he had less and less strength with which to struggle. He felt so heavy. He could barely move his arms. He was going to die. If he could have sighed, he would have - as much in relief as in defeat. Then there was a bright flash of green light, and suddenly Merton was on the floor, coughing. When his vision returned, Dad was laying on the basement floor, too, and Becky was tugging on his arm.
"Merton, Merton, Merton," she sobbed, her face scraped and already bruising. Wordlessly, he gave her a hug and looked around for Vince. The older boy was at the foot of the stairs, gesturing wildly.
"Run! Run upstairs and hide in Becky's closet!" he commanded.
Merton had no problems obeying. He and Becky half ran, half supported each other up the flights of stairs, not stopping until they were safely behind the door to Becky's closet. They sat there in the dark for an eternity, holding onto each other and shaking. Merton had to keep shushing Becky because every few minutes her terrified sniffles threatened to become full-out sobs. If Dad heard them, they were as good as dead. The strain must have been too much for her, though, because she went from almost bawling to dead asleep within seconds.
Vince appeared shortly after. He wrapped an arm around Merton's shoulders, and it was Merton's turn to let loose. He sniffled and sniffled until he was so exhausted he could barely move. His throat really hurt, and he was grateful that he'd have two weeks for the bruises he knew were forming to heal. He didn't want the kids at school to know that his Dad had tried to kill him.
"Thanks, Vince," Merton whispered. He knew that the green flash he saw must have been Vince's plasma bolts. Vince had been longing to use them on Dad for a while now, but Merton had frobidden him to. Now, however, he really didn't mind. "If you hadn't stopped him - "
"No problem, little buddy. Vince would have been sad if Dad had killed you," the green-haired boy said seriously.
Just then, they heard a car door slam and an engine rumble to life. There was a screech of tires, and then... nothing. Vince sighed with relief. Merton looked up at him questioningly.
"He's gone," Vince told him. "Vince got rid of him."
"Gone? For good?" Merton asked, receiving a vigorous nod. Dad was gone. He'd never see Merton again. Profound relief flooded through him, because he knew that if Dad ever came back, he'd get a beating to make all his other ones seem like mere slaps on the wrist.
"Get some sleep, buddy. Mom won't be home for a while yet," Vince said, gently pushing Merton down next to Becky on the pile of stuffed animals and dress-up clothes that littered the floor of Becky's closet. Gratefully, Merton laid down, and still euphoric with relief, slept exhaustedly.
X X X X X
Merton stared up at his ceiling, wondering how the place he used to fear the most had become his sanctuary. After his step-father had remodeled it, the basement had seemed worlds away from the horrific place he'd been punished in. And with all his gothic decorations, books, television, CD player, and all inevitable stuff teenagers managed to collect, it seemed as if his room ~was~ another world, seperate from the house the rest of his family lived in. That was why he called it the Lair.
Becky never remembered any of it. When Mom had come home and found the two of them cowering in the closet, she'd been hysterical. She'd questioned them both, but Becky couldn't answer any of the inquiries. When Mom had accepted the truth - which she did quite easily, and that made Merton wonder if Dad hadn't hit her, too. He never felt brave enough to ask, though. - she forbade Merton from telling Becky about it. Saying something like, what she doesn't know won't hurt her. Too young to know better, Merton agreed.
No one in their family was heartbroken over the sudden disappearance of Mr. Dingle, and their neighbors chose to ignore the entire incident. No one was particularly surprised when Mrs. Dingle remarried that summer. Merton got to be the ringbearer. He didn't like his new father too much, but at least he didn't get hit anymore. He'd been happy to just fade into the background, just let Mom and his step-father moon over Becky and her preciousness. His own accomplishments were not so meager, either. He'd been getting straight A-plusses since Dad left, but no one seem to care anymore.
Merton snorted. He bet they wouldn't have cared if he'd flunked out of school. He bet that if he just vanished one day like his father, no one would notice. He bet if he committed suicide in his shower, Becky would whine about having to clean up the blood.
Well, perhaps that was a little unfair.
Still, though, after five hours of sitting in his favorite thinking chair, sipping Yoo-Hoo to calm his nerves, and listening to his Tool CD, he was no closer to a decision. Would he go? Would he confront his fears like any person with the least amount o self-confidence and courage would? Or would he stay in his room, his Lair, and brood fearfully until Tommy and Lori came to confront ~him~ about what they'd undoubtedly learn from his father.
Would his father even try anything violent? After all, ten years was a long time to hold a grudge. Maybe all he wanted was to apologize, or to try and get to know him. While Merton found this very unlikely, he reasoned that maybe it was just his cynical, distrustful nature that led him to be suspicious. After all, when everyone he'd ever cared about had betrayed him - Dad first, then Becky, then Mom - how could anyone expect him to trust anyone? He'd learned that fateful day on the playground that the first rule of survival was "Look out for number one."
Now he was starting to see the flaws in what had become his personal mantra. Tommy and Lori had somehow wormed their way past his best defenses. He trusted them - almost against his will. And yet, many times when the pressure was on he'd slipped back into his old patterns. He'd left them alone to fight many times and tried to weasle his way out of trouble at their expense just as often. He really was too selfish to have such good friends. He didn't know what they saw in him.
// "Can't see why she likes you so much." //
"Ugly little shit," Merton muttered to himself with a self-mocking smile, repeating the oft-used insult. Sometimes, he thought he understood why his father hated him so much. He hated himself, too. Perhaps that was one of the scariest things he'd had to come to terms with. He actually felt sometimes that his father might have been justified. Maybe if Dad ~had~ killed him...
Merton let the thought trail off. That was another frightening thing. He distinctly remembered being relieved when he thought he'd die that night. How messed up can one child be? What kind of seven-year-old welcomes death?
What kind of eighteen-year-old does, for that matter?
Merton sighed tiredly, shifting on his chair and running his fingers through his hair. He hadn't bothered to but it back into spikes after his shower, seeing as how he wouldn't be going out, and now was glad that he could indulge in his favored nervouse gesture without getting his hand stuck halfway.
He couldn't stay. He couldn't go.
He couldn't go. He couldn't stay.
He couldn't decide.
TBC....
Sorry about the wishy-washy ending, but I promise the next chapter will be better. Review, okay? Pretty please?