Title: The Way Things Are
Rating: G or PG, nothing more
Summary: A conversation between Seth and his mother. Seth intrigues me and since we don't have any back-story on him I took the liberty of inventing it, wrote this in a few minutes, probably full of mistakes. And the titles more of a working title.
Disclaimer: No Prison Break characters belong to me.
The beginning of their conversation consists of little more then breathing. He can hear her lowering herself onto the sofa, picture her clutching a dishtowel in her free hand as she stares at the photo of him and his sister that sits on the end table.
"How is everyone?" for the sake of her already broken heart he puts on his best normal voice. The voice of the kid he used to be before he got too angry and too wild. The kid he used to be back when he had the world at his fingertips. The kid that never disappointed anyone and never broke a promise. The kid he knew his mother had loved once.
"We're managing," she whispers and by the tone of her voice he knows 'managing' means 'barely getting by'. For a split second he remembers a time back before the world fell apart. When he would come bounding through the front door after school and she would scoop him into her arms, feed him a snack and ask about his day. Back before his fathers accident when the old man would get home just in time to tuck him in. He had the perfect life and one day a woman with a blood alcohol level two times the legal limit doing 85 on the wrong side of the road smashed into his fathers Chevy and took it all away.
"Kara?" he asks. His mother was seven months pregnant when the police came to the door with their shiny badges and regretful voices. He was supposed to be in bed but listened from the top of the stairs. The policeman took his mother to the hospital; they were worried the stress would be bad for the baby.
"She's doing good, all A's and B's on her last report card" there's a swell of pride in her voice and he wonders if she ever sounded like that when she spoke of him, knows if she did it hasn't been for a long time. He wonders if the woman whose face he pressed the gun to has children.
"That's great, tell her I said good job…and that I love her," he never said it enough when he was around. His little sister is ten times smarter then he'll ever be and he's pretty sure she doesn't want anything to do with him. Pretty sure she never met the kid that never disappointed and kept all his promises. All she ever knew was the smart-ass punk who had too much anger and grief inside to know what to do with. All she knows is her big brother put a gun to the temple of a woman in a grocery store parking lot and stole her car. He doesn't blame her for hating him.
"I'll do that Seth" he hasn't heard anyone say his name in a long time and it's almost startling to hear. Something stings in his chest and he can't stop the words and tears from coming.
"God, mom I'm sorry, so sorry. I just want to come home, just want to be with you". He knows this isn't a third grade sleepover and she isn't going to pull up at the front gates of Fox River in her mini van, tell the warden 'Sorry Pope, he's just not used to being away from home, maybe we can do this some other time'. It's nice to pretend though.
"Oh Seth" she's crying now too and he hates himself for hurting her. She's had too much hurt in her life and he wishes he'd been smart enough to realize that two months ago.
"Hey pretty" a shadow falls over his body, hot breathe tickles at his ear and his stomach drops, breakfast rises to the back of his throat.
"I have to go mom" hangs up the phone before she can hear anything else. Doesn't want her to ever know what's happening to him in here.
"Your mommy?" T-Bag drawls, amusement evident in his voice, "Now did you mention me? I'm sure she'd approve" there's a sadistic smirk on the older mans face and the smart mouthed punk inside his head, the same one that landed him here in the first place, wants to punch him in the mouth, wants to see T-Bags blood spatter across the grass. Instead he stares at the ground, eyes on the toes of his sneakers and tries to control his breathing. Reaches out and takes hold of the pocket offered to him, swallows down his vomit and blinks back his tears, starts counting down the time until his release in minutes.