"Yo, what the fuck happened to your neck?"
Scott looked up to see Randy staring at him. Oh, shit. He had covered the bruised flesh under a loose turtleneck but now it lay exposed, the padding of his uniform just covering the base of the jagged scar that ran halfway up his neck.
"Scott?" Randy walked towards him and stopped when he reached the fidgeting boy's locker.
"It's nothin' man," Scott averted his eyes and slammed the locker door shut. He grabbed his helmet and started to put it on his head.
Randy's arm stopped the object's progress. "It don't look like nothin' man. Let me see." He pulled the jersey collar down until he could see the bruise in its entirety.
Scott brushed Randy's hand from his body. "I'm fine, don't worry about it." He put his helmet on, successfully this time, and fastened the cage straps.
"Aight, whatever you say." Randy picked up his own helmet and stalked onto the field.
Practice sucked. As in, it was so horrible that he was ashamed to be on the team. Every move he made, the shoulder and chest pads rubbed against his neck. And it hurt like hell. Every time he felt a jab of pain, his mind flashed back to the night before, and he felt sick. Coach Riddlin had yelled at him for fumbling the ball three times before taking him out the play. He spent the better part of two hours watching the practice go on without him, just as life went on without him. His father's life, his mother's life, his own life had passed him by, leaving a torn and broken child behind. He couldn't do anymore, but he pushed himself. Activity after activity, anything to keep himself busy, because then he never had to think about how wrong his world had become.
Why? The question plagued him night after night, keeping his worn and twisted mind awake long after the temptress left his room. Too many whys, and no answers to satisfy them. Too many feelings, and no outlet to express them.
His secret suffocated him. It shoved him underground and buried him alive. He felt the dirt as it piled up, higher and higher, sin after sin added to the heap of dirty thoughts and actions.
How could he be so weak? How could he have been so naive? Why couldn't he, just once, speak his mind? Why did he lock himself up in an invisible cell, existing only inside himself? Why couldn't his father see the evidence that hung in front of his nose?
Scott sat in the locker room with the helmet that his father had bought him "just because", and cried. His teammates were gone to homes that smelled of cookies and clean laundry, the smell that his own house once held. It hadn't been so long ago, and he had since lost the comfort of home. Now it was a place he dreaded, as cold and empty as his own heart.
Night's shadows darkened the doorway that the lean figure slipped through. Heavy feet trod up the staircase to a closed door. No one noticed the sadness on a young boy's face, simply because no one was there to see it.
He spent forever staring in the mirror. A bruised and tattered child stared back through red-rimmed eyes, eyes that had seen things they were not meant to see. The more time he spent glaring at his reflection, the more his anger built up, until he could no longer stand himself.
On impulse, Scott pulled open the mirror to reveal a few small shelves lined with various medications. Weary eyes carefully studied each bottle before settling on some sleeping pills. The directions said that one would be sufficient for a good night's rest, but he wanted to make sure nothing would wake him up.
Something stopped him from putting the pills in his mouth. He knew deep down that he shouldn't. His mom would not want him to pop a pill every time he had a bad day. That wasn't the kind of person he was, he solved his problems. He didn't run away, ever. But he didn't know if he possessed the strength within him to continue the fight. What did his mother care anyway? She was too busy finding a replacement for Dad to even realize that he was not happy. That he had not been happy since the day his father packed up and moved out of the house he had grown up in.
The little gems in his hand dropped down the sink when the front door slammed. Scott haphazardly screwed the top back onto the bottle and shoved his temptation back into the confines of the medicine cabinet. He splashed water onto his face to calm his oversensitive nerves and wash away the tears from earlier that stained his cheeks.
"Scott, we're home!" Martin's cheerful voice rang throughout the expansive living room. Elaine hung onto his arm, tipsy as the Leaning Tower of Pisa and twice as giddy. She stumbled on the oriental carpet in front of the coffee table, which sent them both sprawling onto the couch.
Scott casually walked down the stairs, slightly more poised than he had been just a moment before. His face dropped the second he saw his drunk father on the couch kissing an even drunker Elaine.
"Dad?"
His father looked up in surprise and chuckled. "Well well, look who finally decided to join the party!"
Puffy eyes darkened with worry. "Did you drive home?"
"Of course! After all, it is my car!"
"Drunk?"
Elaine giggled. "Aw, I think Scotty's worried about you, Daddy-O."
Martin laughed. "Don't fret son, we're fine. See? No bruises."
"Okay," Scott whispered to the floor before trudging into the kitchen.
"Scott, wait a minute son!" Martin's hand reached out and beckoned Scott back towards him. "Come sit for a minute."
Scott hesitatingly sat down on the other side of the couch. Suddenly, Martin jumped up and felt his pockets.
"Why do I let this piece of plastic imprison me?" He pulled the phone out of his coat and staggered briskly into the kitchen.
The second he was gone, Elaine scooted over to Scott and threw his legs over his knee.
"Hello there, sexy," she purred as her fingers stroked his stomach under the turtleneck.
Scott stiffened. Dad, please help me! But Martin was chatting away to a coworker about how the sky seemed black at night, but was in fact a deep navy blue.
"What, are you scared of me now?" Her lips softly nibbled on his ear. "I had fun last night, didn't you baby?"
He didn't answer verbally, but his shoulders slumped in defeat. Even drunk, she still had the ability to make him feel like absolute shit. She leaned her head against his shoulder and sighed.
Martin stumbled back into the room. "I'm gone for two minutes and you've already moved on to my son?"
Yes! Tell her Dad, tell her!
Elaine giggled for what had to be the eighty-seventh time that day. "Well, if you're not going to keep me nice and warm..."
"Hey now!" Martin flopped onto the couch and snuggled up to her. "Let's say we watch some TV, get the alcohol out of our system?"
He turned on the television and channel-surfed until he landed on Titanic. "Oh, I remember this. Horrible movie."
"It is not!" Elaine grabbed the remote away from him when he tried to change the channel. "I want to see it!"
"Elaine..." Martin sighed in mock exasperation before settling down. In ten minutes, he was fast asleep.
"Ooh, I think it's time to get this party started." Elaine climbed into Scott's lap, her legs thrown over the side of the couch. "Don't you love this movie?"
Scott cast a worried glance in his father's direction. "N-no."
He flinched when her head fell into the curve of his neck.
"What's wrong, Scotty?" Elaine pulled down the soft fabric of his turtleneck collar until she could see the damage she created. Her fingernail followed the bruise patterns lightly before scratching in deep. Scott jerked away from her and held his hand up to his bleeding neck.
Her evil laugh rang in his ears as he fought off her fingers. "Dad!" He cried, but the snoring man did not stir.
Both of her hands latched into his hair and all ten fingers pulled outwards. "Daddy's not going to wake up for a long time."
She pulled even harder when he struggled to get away. "Listen up, you little prick," her voice went from giddy to commanding in less time than it took him to blink, "You thought that little trick last night was cute, didn't you? Well let me tell you something. When I say to do something, you do it. Understand?"
Scott's eyes were starting to tear from the pain. He wanted to say no, just once, be able to say it. But his tongue froze in his mouth.
"Understand me?" She pulled harder. "You want to play games, we can play games. How about I wake up Daddy and tell him that his dirty little son has been drinking the vodka in the fridge?"
"But I didn't-"
"Think he'll believe you? Daddy loves me Scotty, as long as he's alive he'll listen to anything I say."
He wanted to deny it, but deep in his heart he knew she was right. Elaine had Martin wrapped around her dainty little finger.
Her voice got soft again. "Scotty, you don't want your father to be mad at you, right? Just listen okay, no more games." She paused. "First new rule. You know that girl that you've been seeing?"
"What girl?" Her change in mood both scared and confused him.
"That slut you were hanging all over yesterday. You can't see her anymore."
Brianna. "But she's just my friend..."
"Scotty, what did I tell you? No seeing her anymore. I don't want to do this, okay?" She stroked the side of his face. "But I'm not going to share you with her. You love me, remember baby?"
Coming up next: the wedding and drugs ;) Please review!!!