The Way We Was

"Vincent!" called Vincent's dad from inside his house. His dad had stepped outside and was calling him from the deck.

Vincent felt his anger build within him. He clenched his fist and turned around slowly with tightened muscles; Maria saw his anger every time their father called them. He looked his father in the eye and gave him the most threatening glare he could build up, hoping it would work; but it didn't. He knew it wouldn't, it's just reality.

"Don't you give me that glare young man!"

"What glare, dad? What did you want?" Vincent asked with a smile, but no softening with the glare.

"We're going to the mall. Get your butt over here I will kick it the way it's never been kicked before!"

Vincent sighed and looked down at his sister; she looked up at him sheepishly. He grabbed her hand and walked towards the house. "Come on, Maria."

She followed behind, knowing that if Vincent even did the least wrong, their father would beat him up. She didn't like to hear him doing that; she didn't like to see it. Their father usually told her to leave the room, but every once and a while she will catch a glimpse, and she cried every time.

They walked into the house and their father slammed the door behind them. "Get out to the car!"

Vincent and Maria looked up at him for a moment. But to him, that was stalling. "NOW!"

They both ran to the car. Vincent got in the back with Maria; he didn't dare to even try to sit in the front.

Seconds after their father followed. He opened the door, plopped himself in—moving the care the left for a moment from his weight—and slammed the door behind him. He stuck the key in the hole, but didn't start it; instead he turned back to Vincent.

"You better keep that girl safe or you will wish you were never born, Boy!" With that he turned around and madly turned the key and the car went on.

"You got that?" he said a little more calm to Vincent.

"Yes, Sir." Vincent said in a robot way. Now usually his father didn't take that tone, but surprisingly he didn't snap this time. Instead he fixed his eyes behind the car and backed out.

"Mr. Bunny goes hop," Maria would say every once and awhile playing with hey Bunny, Candy. Vincent just hated it.

"Would you be quiet please, Maria. Say those retarded things in your head." Vincent said.

Maria looked down. She wasn't the kind of little sister that cried to daddy every time her brother said something mean, because if she did show anyway of being hurt by Vincent, their father would beat him up. But it was a bit different when he was there to hear him. This time it was Vincent's fault.

"Don't you ever say that again, Boy, or I'll come back there and make it so you can't use those lips of yours!"

"You're all talk," Vincent whispered. Luckily, his father didn't hear it.

They finally rolled into the mall parking lot. Maria jumped up and down; she loved the mall, and they rarely got to go to it. Their father smiled and chuckled in his throat at the little girl. He treated her like gold, and he treated Vincent like dirt that he walks and spits on.

"Don't eat where you crap?" Vincent whispered once again. Vincent was meaning that he was pretty much where his father crapped, which meant he was mean. And Maria was pretty much where his father ate, which meant he was nice to her.

But once again, he didn't hear Vincent's smart remark. But at least they were all true and not false, like most kids do, just blabber on about how awful their dads are. But like Vincent would say, 'You don't know awful until you met my dad.' And he was right; his father had to be the worst.

"Time to go, Vince." His father said.

"It's Vincent, only Maria calls me Vince." Vincent said, knowing that his father wouldn't make a very bad scene in the parking lot.

But his father did make a little one. He grabbed Vincent's shirt collar and dragged him close to his face. "I will call you what I like, Stupid." With that he threw him back, but Vincent was used to this reaction, so he learned to catch himself.

"Let's go," With that they were all walking into the store; Maria was holding Vincent's hand under their father's strict rules.

"Vincent, Vincent," said a voice. It woke him up from his dream/memory.

Vincent leaned up and looked at Elektra. She sat on the couch beside him with her feet up and holding a blue cup of tea. "What?"

"You were having a dream. You were saying everything, it was like a one-man play or something." Elektra said, taking a sip from he teacup.

Vincent's face suddenly went red. She knew, or at least she heard that, and that was a total give-away. "I suppose you want to know the meaning of that?"

"Uh, yeah!" she said with a smile.

Now Vincent wasn't the type to explain anything to any woman, but she heard everything the people said in his dream. It was out now; there was no difference.

"I was having a blast from the past, you could say." Vincent started. "I was having a dream that concerned my little sister, and my father, and of course me. I was 12 and my sister was 7. My father abused me, but he treated my sister like gold. My sister was." Vincent paused for a moment; tears coming to his eyes, he gained his barrens. "My sister was the best thing that ever happened to me in my whole life. And I am just having memories of her and they happen to have my father in them."

Elektra suddenly looked stunned. Her face went red and tears came to her eyes. Vincent looked at her strangely. "Why are you crying? This has nothing to do with you."

"It's just so sad, I'm sorry about this all."

"No you're not," Vincent replied. "You don't know my family, you never did, you can't be sorry for something you've never seen, heard, or known in your whole life."

"What else is there?" Elektra asked.

"Well, my sister and we were best friends. We both knew what our father was like, and we had no mother. So we had to stick together, be strong together. And that's what we did. We never split apart."

Elektra nodded her head.

"And that was the way we was." Vincent finished.

Elektra looked down at the floor, then back up at Vincent and smiled. "I better get some sleep."

Vincent nodded. He thought it was strange at how affected she seemed by this story. But he didn't care; he just wanted more sleep. But he dreaded the memory that followed his last one.