Title: The Big Fight!
Rating: PG; just to be on the safe side.
Disclaimer: I don't own the TV show 7th Heaven. It belongs to Brenda Hampton, Aaron Spelling, The WB, The ABC Family Channel, and other people that I don't know.
Summary: Simon ponders Eric and Annie's constant fighting.
Setting: In the 4th Season.
A\N: I know that in the 4th season Matt was livening with his friend John. But, I'm having him live at the Camden house ok. And in this story, the twins don't exist. Sorry for all of you Sam and David fans, I mean I like the twins, but they'd be like one or two in this story, and I don't feel like writing about them that young ok. Also, in this story, Nelson is Simon's best friend.
Note: At the beginning of the story, it's in Simon's point of view. The other Camden kids are at school, but Simon was home sick, ok.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~The Big Fight! ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
((Simon's Point Of View))
Why do they always fight? Yelling at each other behind closed doors, making the house shake as furniture hits the wall, followed by slammed doors charmed to slam until the person left in the room apologizes.
And they always put me in the middle of it. "Simon, you should never marry a woman like your mother", "If your mother would just see logic, Simon", "Why doesn't he understand, after twenty-five years of marriage, no I would never just tell him", She's so stubborn, what does she want me to do", No, if she won't tell me, I won't ask".
So I am stuck in the house. Alone, between them. I hate it. They never let my brother and sisters know they are fighting. They'd put a silencer on the room first, then conjure up padding to lessen the shaking caused by anything that got thrown. But, when Ruthie went off to school and it was just me, they gave up the pretenses. Maybe, they sensed that I knew all about their fights, because they suspected each other of telling me their own side.
Why? Why do they tell me? I don't want to know about it. What is it about me, that they'll both say anything around me? And I know it's only me they tell. Over the summer at Deena's we were talking about our friend's parents, and how lucky I was that my Mom and Dad never fought. Nelson would never pay attention, unless you say something about him, or you tell him about some prank. And Mom and Dad didn't tell us, because they still used a silencer last year, and before Ruthie went to school. Is it because she is the youngest girl, so they figure I'm just a better listener?
I hate listening. But, I can't just tell, them to shut up. They're my parents, and I'm just their thirteen-year-old son. What do I know? It's better that I hear this now, so I'll know what life's really like.
But I'm still too stupid to know how to help, even when I know both sides, and they both really want the same thing. Or when I know what the other parent's thinking, the answer to the rhetorical question I'm being asked. And I have to keep silent. Sometimes they say, "Don't tell anyone, Simon". Other times they don't.
I hate it when I have to answer. When murmurs and mumbles aren't enough. "Isn't your mother being ridiculous?" "I saw you talking to him. What's up with your father?" "Is it me or her?" "What do you think?" "Well?" "Well?" "WELL?"
I hate when they make me pick sides. When I have to meditate. When I have to play the parent to the pouting children. When they put me in the middle.
Staying silent nearly kills me. So much information held up inside me, yet I never let it out. It's gotten to the point where I can scarcely eat anything, I feel so full inside. Afraid to leak information from any opening. So I clench my teeth and clench my fists and squeeze myself into a tiny box deep inside me.
Sometimes I want to, yet other times I feel I have the need to say something. I bite my tongue to hold back the urge. Until the blood comes, granting speech to my mute mouth. And I spew out a whirlwind of information. My innards churn with the turmoil, and my stomach rejects everything I give it, sending me to the bathroom, the acidic outpouring searing my throat. I spew information, answer their questions, try to help resolve the conflict. And then they scream at me at me for selling out to the other side, for not caring about them enough, for meddling in things I should know nothing about.
I run out of the room on the tail of a sofa that just hit the door. I go as far away as I can and curl up in a ball and sob. My tears are heavy with pain and knowledge. I make tiny incisions behind my ears in the vulnerable little indentations, desperately hoping to injure my hearing forever. Then I turn on my music and scream the lyrics at the top of my lungs. I can never hear my voice above the screaming guitars. My ears ring for days afterwards.
I try not to listen to them when they tell me I'm ruining their marriage, trying to incite conflict between them. They say condescendingly that maybe they think of me more like an adult than a child, but I really should think before I speak, and realize that sometimes there's an implied "But don't tell anyone". Like it's my fault I grew up too fast in some ways, but I am an ignorant child, a baby in others.
I sit there stonily and don't say anything as dad talks me down, and Mom sits, silently sniveling like an abused little girl. Then she makes a choking noise, and my father tells me to leave.
So I go back to the sanctuary of my room and my stereo. But no matter how loud the music is, I can never block out their voices.
Sometimes they'll ignore me for a week or two afterwards. But they usually don't. They just shove more unwanted knowledge down my throat. And act like nothing happened.
I laughed, until the day I got my letter acceptance from the high school, then I cried. What could I learn there that I hadn't already learned? What would they want with me there?
So why am I going? Not for them, not for family pride. What pride does my family actually have? I am going because staying at the burrow one more day would kill me. I was wound tight, overflowing with information. I would literally explode if I stayed and heard one thing more.
They were each so proud of me, for overcoming the weaknesses from the other parent. I was too exhausted to fight them. I still had the scabs in my mouth, bite marks on my tongue, from the last time I tired to assert my own opinion. I said I was too tired to keep fighting with my parents. "Hmm," they mused. "I won't listen to you. You can't make me listen to you. I will just stand up and walk out that door, regardless of what you say. I can't stand to have you stonily angry at me again." I was amazed at my outburst.
((End Of Point Of View))
((Later That Day))
Simon Camden sat on his bed. Deep in thought. He had been home sick from school for the day, he had a stomachache.
He had to listen to his Mom and Dad fight all day. It hurt him deeply when they fought. They always seemed so happy together, so in love, so.
Simon's bedroom door flung open. It was his younger sister, Ruthie.
"Hi Simon!" She said happily.
"Hi Ruthie." Simon said back, in a dull tone.
"What's the matter with you?" Ruthie asked.
*I wish I could tell you* Simon thought.
Maybe he could. After all Ruthie had a right to know, they were her parents to. I fact so did Matt, Lucy, and Mary, his other siblings.
"Well something's been bugging me lately. But I think it's something you, Mary, Matt, and Lucy should all know about. Could you go get them and I'll tell you all?" Simon asked his sister.
"Sure." Ruthie said, and ran out of his room.
"Mary, Lucy, Matt. Get in Simon's room. He has to tell us something!" He heard Ruthie shouting.
Then, Ruthie burst through the door. Matt was behind her. Then Mary and Lucy.
"Simon, what is it?" Matt questioned his younger and only brother.
"Yeah, where's the fire?" Mary asked.
"Yeah and whatever it is, can you hurry it along, I was having an important phone conversation?" Lucy asked, annoyed that her younger brother had interrupted her phone call with the man or her dreams, Mike Pierce.
"Yeah what's this big news?" Ruthie asked, a bit anxious.
"Well, um this is kind of hard for me to say. I mean I was told not to tell anyone. But I think you all have a right to know. It's just." Simon begun, nervousness was in his voice.
"Oh just spit it out please, some of us have lives we'd like to live while we're still young!" Lucy snapped; she was growing more impatient by the minute.
"Ok fine!" Simon said. "Did you guys know Mom and Dad are fighting?" Simon asked.
The four other Camden kids in the room gave off shocked expressions. "What?!" They all gasped.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~End Of Chapter One~*~*~*~*~*~*~
((To Be Continued))
A\N: How was it? Please tell me in reviews? Ok bye.
*~*Chelsea*~*
Rating: PG; just to be on the safe side.
Disclaimer: I don't own the TV show 7th Heaven. It belongs to Brenda Hampton, Aaron Spelling, The WB, The ABC Family Channel, and other people that I don't know.
Summary: Simon ponders Eric and Annie's constant fighting.
Setting: In the 4th Season.
A\N: I know that in the 4th season Matt was livening with his friend John. But, I'm having him live at the Camden house ok. And in this story, the twins don't exist. Sorry for all of you Sam and David fans, I mean I like the twins, but they'd be like one or two in this story, and I don't feel like writing about them that young ok. Also, in this story, Nelson is Simon's best friend.
Note: At the beginning of the story, it's in Simon's point of view. The other Camden kids are at school, but Simon was home sick, ok.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~The Big Fight! ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
((Simon's Point Of View))
Why do they always fight? Yelling at each other behind closed doors, making the house shake as furniture hits the wall, followed by slammed doors charmed to slam until the person left in the room apologizes.
And they always put me in the middle of it. "Simon, you should never marry a woman like your mother", "If your mother would just see logic, Simon", "Why doesn't he understand, after twenty-five years of marriage, no I would never just tell him", She's so stubborn, what does she want me to do", No, if she won't tell me, I won't ask".
So I am stuck in the house. Alone, between them. I hate it. They never let my brother and sisters know they are fighting. They'd put a silencer on the room first, then conjure up padding to lessen the shaking caused by anything that got thrown. But, when Ruthie went off to school and it was just me, they gave up the pretenses. Maybe, they sensed that I knew all about their fights, because they suspected each other of telling me their own side.
Why? Why do they tell me? I don't want to know about it. What is it about me, that they'll both say anything around me? And I know it's only me they tell. Over the summer at Deena's we were talking about our friend's parents, and how lucky I was that my Mom and Dad never fought. Nelson would never pay attention, unless you say something about him, or you tell him about some prank. And Mom and Dad didn't tell us, because they still used a silencer last year, and before Ruthie went to school. Is it because she is the youngest girl, so they figure I'm just a better listener?
I hate listening. But, I can't just tell, them to shut up. They're my parents, and I'm just their thirteen-year-old son. What do I know? It's better that I hear this now, so I'll know what life's really like.
But I'm still too stupid to know how to help, even when I know both sides, and they both really want the same thing. Or when I know what the other parent's thinking, the answer to the rhetorical question I'm being asked. And I have to keep silent. Sometimes they say, "Don't tell anyone, Simon". Other times they don't.
I hate it when I have to answer. When murmurs and mumbles aren't enough. "Isn't your mother being ridiculous?" "I saw you talking to him. What's up with your father?" "Is it me or her?" "What do you think?" "Well?" "Well?" "WELL?"
I hate when they make me pick sides. When I have to meditate. When I have to play the parent to the pouting children. When they put me in the middle.
Staying silent nearly kills me. So much information held up inside me, yet I never let it out. It's gotten to the point where I can scarcely eat anything, I feel so full inside. Afraid to leak information from any opening. So I clench my teeth and clench my fists and squeeze myself into a tiny box deep inside me.
Sometimes I want to, yet other times I feel I have the need to say something. I bite my tongue to hold back the urge. Until the blood comes, granting speech to my mute mouth. And I spew out a whirlwind of information. My innards churn with the turmoil, and my stomach rejects everything I give it, sending me to the bathroom, the acidic outpouring searing my throat. I spew information, answer their questions, try to help resolve the conflict. And then they scream at me at me for selling out to the other side, for not caring about them enough, for meddling in things I should know nothing about.
I run out of the room on the tail of a sofa that just hit the door. I go as far away as I can and curl up in a ball and sob. My tears are heavy with pain and knowledge. I make tiny incisions behind my ears in the vulnerable little indentations, desperately hoping to injure my hearing forever. Then I turn on my music and scream the lyrics at the top of my lungs. I can never hear my voice above the screaming guitars. My ears ring for days afterwards.
I try not to listen to them when they tell me I'm ruining their marriage, trying to incite conflict between them. They say condescendingly that maybe they think of me more like an adult than a child, but I really should think before I speak, and realize that sometimes there's an implied "But don't tell anyone". Like it's my fault I grew up too fast in some ways, but I am an ignorant child, a baby in others.
I sit there stonily and don't say anything as dad talks me down, and Mom sits, silently sniveling like an abused little girl. Then she makes a choking noise, and my father tells me to leave.
So I go back to the sanctuary of my room and my stereo. But no matter how loud the music is, I can never block out their voices.
Sometimes they'll ignore me for a week or two afterwards. But they usually don't. They just shove more unwanted knowledge down my throat. And act like nothing happened.
I laughed, until the day I got my letter acceptance from the high school, then I cried. What could I learn there that I hadn't already learned? What would they want with me there?
So why am I going? Not for them, not for family pride. What pride does my family actually have? I am going because staying at the burrow one more day would kill me. I was wound tight, overflowing with information. I would literally explode if I stayed and heard one thing more.
They were each so proud of me, for overcoming the weaknesses from the other parent. I was too exhausted to fight them. I still had the scabs in my mouth, bite marks on my tongue, from the last time I tired to assert my own opinion. I said I was too tired to keep fighting with my parents. "Hmm," they mused. "I won't listen to you. You can't make me listen to you. I will just stand up and walk out that door, regardless of what you say. I can't stand to have you stonily angry at me again." I was amazed at my outburst.
((End Of Point Of View))
((Later That Day))
Simon Camden sat on his bed. Deep in thought. He had been home sick from school for the day, he had a stomachache.
He had to listen to his Mom and Dad fight all day. It hurt him deeply when they fought. They always seemed so happy together, so in love, so.
Simon's bedroom door flung open. It was his younger sister, Ruthie.
"Hi Simon!" She said happily.
"Hi Ruthie." Simon said back, in a dull tone.
"What's the matter with you?" Ruthie asked.
*I wish I could tell you* Simon thought.
Maybe he could. After all Ruthie had a right to know, they were her parents to. I fact so did Matt, Lucy, and Mary, his other siblings.
"Well something's been bugging me lately. But I think it's something you, Mary, Matt, and Lucy should all know about. Could you go get them and I'll tell you all?" Simon asked his sister.
"Sure." Ruthie said, and ran out of his room.
"Mary, Lucy, Matt. Get in Simon's room. He has to tell us something!" He heard Ruthie shouting.
Then, Ruthie burst through the door. Matt was behind her. Then Mary and Lucy.
"Simon, what is it?" Matt questioned his younger and only brother.
"Yeah, where's the fire?" Mary asked.
"Yeah and whatever it is, can you hurry it along, I was having an important phone conversation?" Lucy asked, annoyed that her younger brother had interrupted her phone call with the man or her dreams, Mike Pierce.
"Yeah what's this big news?" Ruthie asked, a bit anxious.
"Well, um this is kind of hard for me to say. I mean I was told not to tell anyone. But I think you all have a right to know. It's just." Simon begun, nervousness was in his voice.
"Oh just spit it out please, some of us have lives we'd like to live while we're still young!" Lucy snapped; she was growing more impatient by the minute.
"Ok fine!" Simon said. "Did you guys know Mom and Dad are fighting?" Simon asked.
The four other Camden kids in the room gave off shocked expressions. "What?!" They all gasped.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~End Of Chapter One~*~*~*~*~*~*~
((To Be Continued))
A\N: How was it? Please tell me in reviews? Ok bye.
*~*Chelsea*~*
