Apparently, going home after that day hadn't been one of Tom's better
ideas.
As he pushed the front door open his dark eyes moved towards his mother, who sat on one of the couches in the living room. On the table beside her sat a bottle of alcohol. No matter, she was usually drinking by the time he came home anyway. He quietly shut the door behind him without a word. Tom then slung his backpack further over his shoulders and made his way to the stairs without even acknowledging her. However when he touched the first stair, he heard his mother's voice call for him.
"Thomas, get your ass in here."
He flinched, dropping his bag with a thud before turning on his heel and leaning on the living room's doorframe. His watched tiredly, waiting to see what she had in store for him. Obviously the principal did call his house, as she had promised.
She rose from the couch, a glazed look in her eyes as she walked over towards Tom. Her hand grasped his chin, bringing it up so that she could look into his eyes. "Tell me, how hard is it to keep from everybody that you're different?" Her eyes were cold as was her touch. Tom said nothing. "What, do you parade around with a giant sign that reads 'I have the 'X' gene'? Why can't you just act normal, and allow me the pleasures of a normal child?!" She let go of his face, turning her back to him. "It's because of you that your father left. And because of you people are afraid to date me! They think that I carry your disease."
Tom just watched blankly, he had heard this 'I need a man' speech a hundred times. He was also used to being blamed for her problems. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets. As she turned back to face him, he wasn't prepared for the oncoming blow that struck his face. He fell to the floor with a cry, slinking back immediately to the wall. "It wasn't my fault!" He answered. "You think it's easy being different? I'm always getting messed with!" Before he could complain more, she struck him again.
"You're lying," she hissed. "It's never your fault, according to you." Tom whimpered and pressed himself further against the wall, any further and he would have smushed himself through it. She grasped at his collar and pulled him to his feet. "And this! You have no respect for anybody! Not even the decency to stand when someone's talking to you. I bet you treat your teachers like that too, am I right?"
Tom's eyes swayed towards the ground, bringing his shoulders up as though he was trying to engulf himself in his own body, his hands brought up slightly to protect himself from any more hits. He opened his mouth to respond, but she shoved him to the floor and dropped to her knees beside him, pressing his wrists down unto the ground with one hand. He squeaked in pain and confusion as she leaned in closer to speak, he could smell the drink on her breath. "Well here's a lesson for you: answer when spoken to."
Tom fought to get his hands free, but being only a child she had quite a grip on him, and her other hand went to thrashing him repeatedly. He kicked out, trying to throw her off balance in hopes of being able to move his arms, but failed. The blows kept coming, and he could do nothing but take the hits until she was satisfied. Finally she stopped the onslaught, tears streaming down his youthful face. She got up and her eyes were full of hatred. This wasn't the loving, caring mother he once knew to protect him from his father, in fact it seemed she had taken up his father's tactics and blown them to the extremities. She stepped back to the couch; Tom crumpled on the floor as she returned to the couch and only turned the volume up on the television.
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The next day at school Tom wore long sleeves to cover the multiple bruises that decorated his arms. His right cheek was slightly swollen, and on his wrists were marks where she had grasped him so tightly. He dropped his stuff beside his desk and fell into his chair, placing his head upon his arms as the teacher moved to collect the work from the day before. She stopped at Tom's table, grabbing John's and the girl's papers before eyeing him.
"Thomas, where's your work from yesterday?" Only a muffled sound came from him. She crossed her arms. "Did you finish it? I swear I saw you working on it." Her hand moved to pull him up lightly by the shoulder, but he moved quickly to the side and waved his own hand.
"I don't got it." How wonderfully oblivious teachers could be sometimes. She blinked, watching him a few moments more before moving to the next table. She then moved to pass out a new worksheet to the class. She explained the new strategy, and they went right to work.
Tom's pencil scratched into the paper. He wasn't answering the questions, just scribbling off to the side. John's hand went up into the air.
"Ms. Gallagher, I've a question." When she nodded at him, he placed his hand back upon the desk. "What's a mutant?"
The room got silent, as Tom shot a deadly glare towards Jonathan. The teacher cleared her throat. "Well, it depends, really. To mutate is to change, so a mutant would be something that is different from what it usually would be."
John nodded. "So Tom, he's supposed to be like us, right? But he's not."
Ms. Gallagher sighed. "Please, questions about your work only."
The rest of the class resumed finishing their worksheets as Tom stared John down. John smirked, as he too began to finish his work up. Now one of the girl's hands went up.
"Yes, Julie?"
"Aren't mutants banned from attending public schools?"
Tom slammed his pencil down and shoved his chair backwards, standing. The teacher's eyes moved to him. "Tom, please take your seat."
By now Tom was tired of what little respect he ever received. He turned, narrowing his eyes at her. "Why? So I can get harassed some more?" She shook her head and moved to say something, but Tom interrupted. "I am so tired of this shit!"
The class gasped, to hear a seven year old boy say that word was a big deal. The teacher stood as well. "Thomas Stryfe! I'm going to have the principal call your mother again! Go stand out in the hallway."
"Fine, I don't care! Don't care about you, about this school, nothing! I don't give a damn!" Tom yelled back, as he stormed out of the classroom. The class was dead silent as they waited for what the teacher had to say about it. She calmly picked up the telephone and contacted the principal.
"Yes, I think you may need to come get him. . . He's in the hallway, thank you."
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Once the classroom door was shut behind him Tom fell upon the tiled floor, bringing his knees up to his chest and burying his face in his hands. Not only was home hell, but now the school would no longer be his sanctuary. Thoughts flooded his head. It wasn't like he asked to be born with this ability. He never asked for his father to be a raging drunk, his mother to fall apart after his disappearance, the other students to shun him, the teachers to cast their eyes elsewhere. Why couldn't he just be treated with the same amount of kindness the other kids got? Tom didn't even bother to look up when he heard footsteps clack on the hard floor, his eyes watching as a pair of brown boots stopped near him.
"Thomas? Come with me to the office." When no movement was made from the child, he reached down to tug on his arm. "I'm serious, we need to talk." Still nothing. The guy sighed and grasped underneath of the child's arms, hoisting him to his feet. Tom, refusing to walk, nearly had to be dragged the entire way to the office. As the doors were pushed open, Tom could feel the eyes upon him. He was then sat in a red chair. His dark hues watched as a new pair of shoes approached him, this time those of a female.
"Alright, you wanna tell me what's going on?"
Tom glanced upward, only to meet the eyes of the principal. She gasped slightly when she saw the bruises decorating his face. She kneeled, bringing her soft fingers to probe at his cheek. Tom winced and pulled away, bringing his feet up to the chairs edge. "Did a student do these? Is this from yesterday's fight?" Tom shook his head slightly. She then looked slightly concerned and alerted the nurse. When she stepped into the room, she smiled. "Alright, Mrs. Kildreff here is going to take a look at you. Don't worry; we just want to make sure nothings wrong."
Yeah, nothing was wrong. He was only covered in blemishes just about everywhere, and he didn't even know this lady. She ended up dragging him into the nurse's office anyway despite his attempts to convince them that he was alright.
Mrs. Kildreff smiled again, motioning towards the table. "If you'll remove your shirt and sit there, I'll get to you in a moment." She began to wash her hands in a basin, but when she turned around she was disappointed that Tom was still clothed in his turtleneck. She sighed. "Thomas, if you want me to help, you're going to have to take your shirt off."
He shook his head. "I'm fine."
She smiled and placed a cloth over ice upon his cheek. "Will you at least tell me where this came from then?"
His lips were pressed closed. Mrs. Kildreff shook her head. "Tom, I need you to talk to me."
He blinked, before turning his head away. "I got in a fight, alright? I don't need anyone fussing over me." Mrs. Kildreff laughed slightly and pulled the cloth away.
"Alright, but there is something that I meant to do yesterday." She withdrew a needle from the cabinet, dabbing the tip in a cotton ball wet with alcohol. Tom's eyes widened and he scooted to the edge of the table. "According to the papers you and your parents signed upon entering this school, we are allowed to draw blood if we wish for medical purposes."
Tom shook his head. "Don't touch me."
"Tom, we've been told by the government that we need to run a blood test on you. If you let us do it, then you won't have to go to an actual doctor."
Thomas narrowed his eyes. He wasn't allowed to go see a doctor. Guess he had no choice in the matter but to have the nurse do what she wished. He sighed as she pulled up his long sleeves, she seemed only slightly surprised from the bruises.
"Must have been some fight eh, Tom?" She then pressed the needle to his skin, Tom crying out slightly as it pricked him. He then winced as she commenced withdrawing a small amount of blood. It felt like his nerves were being pinched. "All done. Now that wasn't so hard, was it?"
Tom pulled his sleeve down harshly and jumped from the table. "Can I go home now?" The nurse gave him a slight glare.
"Well, school's not out yet." She turned to place the needle upon the counter. "Besides, I want you to have a seat until we get the results back."
Tom sighed and fell into one of the chairs in the office, leaving the Nurse to her own business. The adult behind the desk eyed him momentarily before returning to her paperwork. This could be a long day.
As he pushed the front door open his dark eyes moved towards his mother, who sat on one of the couches in the living room. On the table beside her sat a bottle of alcohol. No matter, she was usually drinking by the time he came home anyway. He quietly shut the door behind him without a word. Tom then slung his backpack further over his shoulders and made his way to the stairs without even acknowledging her. However when he touched the first stair, he heard his mother's voice call for him.
"Thomas, get your ass in here."
He flinched, dropping his bag with a thud before turning on his heel and leaning on the living room's doorframe. His watched tiredly, waiting to see what she had in store for him. Obviously the principal did call his house, as she had promised.
She rose from the couch, a glazed look in her eyes as she walked over towards Tom. Her hand grasped his chin, bringing it up so that she could look into his eyes. "Tell me, how hard is it to keep from everybody that you're different?" Her eyes were cold as was her touch. Tom said nothing. "What, do you parade around with a giant sign that reads 'I have the 'X' gene'? Why can't you just act normal, and allow me the pleasures of a normal child?!" She let go of his face, turning her back to him. "It's because of you that your father left. And because of you people are afraid to date me! They think that I carry your disease."
Tom just watched blankly, he had heard this 'I need a man' speech a hundred times. He was also used to being blamed for her problems. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets. As she turned back to face him, he wasn't prepared for the oncoming blow that struck his face. He fell to the floor with a cry, slinking back immediately to the wall. "It wasn't my fault!" He answered. "You think it's easy being different? I'm always getting messed with!" Before he could complain more, she struck him again.
"You're lying," she hissed. "It's never your fault, according to you." Tom whimpered and pressed himself further against the wall, any further and he would have smushed himself through it. She grasped at his collar and pulled him to his feet. "And this! You have no respect for anybody! Not even the decency to stand when someone's talking to you. I bet you treat your teachers like that too, am I right?"
Tom's eyes swayed towards the ground, bringing his shoulders up as though he was trying to engulf himself in his own body, his hands brought up slightly to protect himself from any more hits. He opened his mouth to respond, but she shoved him to the floor and dropped to her knees beside him, pressing his wrists down unto the ground with one hand. He squeaked in pain and confusion as she leaned in closer to speak, he could smell the drink on her breath. "Well here's a lesson for you: answer when spoken to."
Tom fought to get his hands free, but being only a child she had quite a grip on him, and her other hand went to thrashing him repeatedly. He kicked out, trying to throw her off balance in hopes of being able to move his arms, but failed. The blows kept coming, and he could do nothing but take the hits until she was satisfied. Finally she stopped the onslaught, tears streaming down his youthful face. She got up and her eyes were full of hatred. This wasn't the loving, caring mother he once knew to protect him from his father, in fact it seemed she had taken up his father's tactics and blown them to the extremities. She stepped back to the couch; Tom crumpled on the floor as she returned to the couch and only turned the volume up on the television.
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The next day at school Tom wore long sleeves to cover the multiple bruises that decorated his arms. His right cheek was slightly swollen, and on his wrists were marks where she had grasped him so tightly. He dropped his stuff beside his desk and fell into his chair, placing his head upon his arms as the teacher moved to collect the work from the day before. She stopped at Tom's table, grabbing John's and the girl's papers before eyeing him.
"Thomas, where's your work from yesterday?" Only a muffled sound came from him. She crossed her arms. "Did you finish it? I swear I saw you working on it." Her hand moved to pull him up lightly by the shoulder, but he moved quickly to the side and waved his own hand.
"I don't got it." How wonderfully oblivious teachers could be sometimes. She blinked, watching him a few moments more before moving to the next table. She then moved to pass out a new worksheet to the class. She explained the new strategy, and they went right to work.
Tom's pencil scratched into the paper. He wasn't answering the questions, just scribbling off to the side. John's hand went up into the air.
"Ms. Gallagher, I've a question." When she nodded at him, he placed his hand back upon the desk. "What's a mutant?"
The room got silent, as Tom shot a deadly glare towards Jonathan. The teacher cleared her throat. "Well, it depends, really. To mutate is to change, so a mutant would be something that is different from what it usually would be."
John nodded. "So Tom, he's supposed to be like us, right? But he's not."
Ms. Gallagher sighed. "Please, questions about your work only."
The rest of the class resumed finishing their worksheets as Tom stared John down. John smirked, as he too began to finish his work up. Now one of the girl's hands went up.
"Yes, Julie?"
"Aren't mutants banned from attending public schools?"
Tom slammed his pencil down and shoved his chair backwards, standing. The teacher's eyes moved to him. "Tom, please take your seat."
By now Tom was tired of what little respect he ever received. He turned, narrowing his eyes at her. "Why? So I can get harassed some more?" She shook her head and moved to say something, but Tom interrupted. "I am so tired of this shit!"
The class gasped, to hear a seven year old boy say that word was a big deal. The teacher stood as well. "Thomas Stryfe! I'm going to have the principal call your mother again! Go stand out in the hallway."
"Fine, I don't care! Don't care about you, about this school, nothing! I don't give a damn!" Tom yelled back, as he stormed out of the classroom. The class was dead silent as they waited for what the teacher had to say about it. She calmly picked up the telephone and contacted the principal.
"Yes, I think you may need to come get him. . . He's in the hallway, thank you."
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Once the classroom door was shut behind him Tom fell upon the tiled floor, bringing his knees up to his chest and burying his face in his hands. Not only was home hell, but now the school would no longer be his sanctuary. Thoughts flooded his head. It wasn't like he asked to be born with this ability. He never asked for his father to be a raging drunk, his mother to fall apart after his disappearance, the other students to shun him, the teachers to cast their eyes elsewhere. Why couldn't he just be treated with the same amount of kindness the other kids got? Tom didn't even bother to look up when he heard footsteps clack on the hard floor, his eyes watching as a pair of brown boots stopped near him.
"Thomas? Come with me to the office." When no movement was made from the child, he reached down to tug on his arm. "I'm serious, we need to talk." Still nothing. The guy sighed and grasped underneath of the child's arms, hoisting him to his feet. Tom, refusing to walk, nearly had to be dragged the entire way to the office. As the doors were pushed open, Tom could feel the eyes upon him. He was then sat in a red chair. His dark hues watched as a new pair of shoes approached him, this time those of a female.
"Alright, you wanna tell me what's going on?"
Tom glanced upward, only to meet the eyes of the principal. She gasped slightly when she saw the bruises decorating his face. She kneeled, bringing her soft fingers to probe at his cheek. Tom winced and pulled away, bringing his feet up to the chairs edge. "Did a student do these? Is this from yesterday's fight?" Tom shook his head slightly. She then looked slightly concerned and alerted the nurse. When she stepped into the room, she smiled. "Alright, Mrs. Kildreff here is going to take a look at you. Don't worry; we just want to make sure nothings wrong."
Yeah, nothing was wrong. He was only covered in blemishes just about everywhere, and he didn't even know this lady. She ended up dragging him into the nurse's office anyway despite his attempts to convince them that he was alright.
Mrs. Kildreff smiled again, motioning towards the table. "If you'll remove your shirt and sit there, I'll get to you in a moment." She began to wash her hands in a basin, but when she turned around she was disappointed that Tom was still clothed in his turtleneck. She sighed. "Thomas, if you want me to help, you're going to have to take your shirt off."
He shook his head. "I'm fine."
She smiled and placed a cloth over ice upon his cheek. "Will you at least tell me where this came from then?"
His lips were pressed closed. Mrs. Kildreff shook her head. "Tom, I need you to talk to me."
He blinked, before turning his head away. "I got in a fight, alright? I don't need anyone fussing over me." Mrs. Kildreff laughed slightly and pulled the cloth away.
"Alright, but there is something that I meant to do yesterday." She withdrew a needle from the cabinet, dabbing the tip in a cotton ball wet with alcohol. Tom's eyes widened and he scooted to the edge of the table. "According to the papers you and your parents signed upon entering this school, we are allowed to draw blood if we wish for medical purposes."
Tom shook his head. "Don't touch me."
"Tom, we've been told by the government that we need to run a blood test on you. If you let us do it, then you won't have to go to an actual doctor."
Thomas narrowed his eyes. He wasn't allowed to go see a doctor. Guess he had no choice in the matter but to have the nurse do what she wished. He sighed as she pulled up his long sleeves, she seemed only slightly surprised from the bruises.
"Must have been some fight eh, Tom?" She then pressed the needle to his skin, Tom crying out slightly as it pricked him. He then winced as she commenced withdrawing a small amount of blood. It felt like his nerves were being pinched. "All done. Now that wasn't so hard, was it?"
Tom pulled his sleeve down harshly and jumped from the table. "Can I go home now?" The nurse gave him a slight glare.
"Well, school's not out yet." She turned to place the needle upon the counter. "Besides, I want you to have a seat until we get the results back."
Tom sighed and fell into one of the chairs in the office, leaving the Nurse to her own business. The adult behind the desk eyed him momentarily before returning to her paperwork. This could be a long day.