I've had exams all week; it's been so horrible. I wrote this over a few days, so if it seems to jump around in mood, that'll be why. And. For once, it's not Ryou centric, it's Joey, with the classic and slightly overused abusive father thing. I don't own Yugioh. Uh…is that it? Well, I can't think of anything else that needs to be written so I won't bother.
DOLLS
"You're a fucking disappointment."
Joey lay on the other side of the locked door, rocking back and forth gently, on his side facing the window. He was curled in a ball shape, arms wrapped around his knees, teeth gritted, forcing himself to keep his eyes open as much as he could even if he couldn't see properly. With each time that that man hammered forcefully on the door, Joey tensed and tried with everything he had to pretend this didn't happen.
"You can never do anything right, can you?"
He couldn't help but squeeze his eyes shut, and let a few sobs escape as he felt the built up tears fall across his nose. The pillow was cold and wet on his face. The man seemed to get worse every day. Yesterday, Joey had closed his front door quietly enough to avoid diverting the man's attention from the TV. He had walked as softly as he could to the end of the hallway and, after turning his head to the right in order to check that the man was sitting in the living room, turned left into the corridor that led to his bedroom. He had never felt so sick in his life as he did when he heard himself kick an empty beer can, and in turn the TV being switched off.
He had to get up early the next day to make sure the bruises were hidden.
"You're worth less than nothing."
As soon as he could, Joey opened his eyes again, and they refilled quickly with tears. It hurt to shut his eyes; he must have had a bruise developing somewhere. He wouldn't have been surprised. Today he had got home from school, opened the front door, crept inside and closed the door again very quietly. He'd thought he might have been unnoticed until he turned around and found himself facing that man. He had been waiting for him. The calm abuse rapidly turned into shouting, and Joey hadn't been able to avoid many of the fists and feet that were being thrown in his direction. God knows how he'd managed to get past the man, into his room and lock the door.
He wanted his dad back.
"Your mother should have had a fucking abortion."
Then he wasn't there anymore. The yelling and banging was reduced to a dull, monotonous garble, and he was standing on some white railings looking out at the sparkling, blue sea. There was a slight breeze, but not enough to make him lose his balance, and there wasn't a single cloud in the clear, still sky. The warmth of the sun was heating up the top of his head. Flowers of every colour were growing in small groups in the field behind him; they looked like they were made of paper. He looked up at the sky, took a deep breath and proceeded to throw himself off the railing and down towards the huge rocks and white, frothy waves.
The scene replayed itself over and over until he was standing inside his front door, with that man lying battered and bruised on the floor. He simply stood there; anger in his eyes and a baseball bat in his hand at his side. Then the man tried to stand up, growling, angrier than ever that his son had had the nerve to beat him up; he was about to try and punch him, but his leg gave way. Joey seized the opportunity and swung the bat with everything he had. It connected to the man's head with a sickening crack.
Somewhere, deep down, he knew they weren't real. He knew they were just his puppets in a world he'd built, and he knew that eventually he'd have to wake up and face the fact that the man was swearing at him through his bedroom door. But not yet. He'd come back and face it later. But right now he was somewhere else. His world had been made as an escape. An escape it would stay.
Whatcha think? Tell meee. I expect (well, hope) to see lots of reviews in my inbox when I come back on Monday afternoon.