Wakko woke abruptly, his heart thumping in his chest.
Above him was the same, never changing, high white ceiling of the water tower.
Darkness enveloped him as he sat up, sifting through his bed sheets to see where Beary was. A small smile tugged at his lips as he remembered that Yakko and Dot had gifted her to him to make him feel better.
Sure, hugging a stuffed teddy bear wasn't exactly a cure for his long-term, crippling depression but it helped.
It really did help.
Wakko's smile wilted as he realized that Beary was, in fact, no longer in the bunk with him.
Where'd you go?
She left you. Just like everyone else will.
Wakko blinked. A feeling of dread and uncertainty began creeping up his spine and into mind. He didn't need to deal with that voice tonight, he didn't want to.
You're stuck with me. Whether you like it or not.
Oh, go away.
Wakko swallowed hard, trying his hardest not to freak out what with Beary not being there for him to hug. He needed to find her and soon, or else.
Maybe I threw her out by accident?
He was just about to take a peek over the edge of his bunk to see when a flash of the nightmare appeared behind eyelids. Fear gripped his heart almost instantly and his breath hitched in his throat.
Why, oh why, did he have a nightmare about the worst thing that Memlo had ever done to him? Why couldn't he just have a nightmare involving clowns instead? At least clowns didn't pour DIP down his back as some sick punishment.
Wakko sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly, like how Dr. Scratchansniff had taught him a while back. Once he calmed down enough he peaked over the edge of the bunk. Peering through the darkness he could just barely make out something that was laying still on the hard floor below. It must be Beary. It had to be.
Wakko felt a sliver of guilt pierce his heart as he wondered if he kicked or flung her out by accident. It wasn't like he had meant to hurt her, but he did have a tendency to kick or hit in his sleep.
Kicking and hitting because of his nightmares.
(Nightmares that he tried
and failed to hide.)
Then he descended down the ladder, making sure to be as quiet as possible to avoid waking Dot or Yakko up. They didn't need their sleep disturbed. He could handle this himself.
Right?
He could totally handle this. He just needed to get to Beary, hug her, and then go back to his bunk and fall asleep. It wasn't like he was silently hoping against hope that the nightmare wouldn't come back.
It'll come back. But you already knew that. You try so hard to forget but it always comes back.
Go away.
But those stupid, intrusive thoughts refused to leave him alone as he went down the ladder. So far the only known "cure" for them was to get a hug from Dot or Yakko.
(Especially Yakko. Wakko didn't know why but Yakko always gave the best hugs. Not to
offend Dot, but to Wakko she was just too…Too squeezy.)
Don't bother him. He doesn't deserve your problems. Yakko shouldn't have to carry your stupid burden anyways.
Wakko squeezed the rung of the ladder, hard, trying not to listen to that voice.
It was tempting though. So tempting.
Wakko sucked in another deep breath and let it out slowly. The rising panic within him slowly dissolved.
Just get to Beary. If I get to her, I'll be okay.
You know that stupid bear doesn't help.
Wakko made it the rest of the way down without waking up his siblings. Once his feet hit the cold wooden floor he felt a tiny bit of relief sweep through him. The relief only grew as he got to Beary and picked her up, hugging her close.
"Sorry Beary, didn't mean t'hurt you," he whispered.
Logically he knew she was just a stuffed teddy bear but, well, it still made him feel guilty for throwing her out like that, however accidental it was. And besides, he was eleven years old. Cut him some slack.
(Especially since the author won't.)
A kind of peace settled into Wakko's mind as he held Beary close. Which was then promptly ruined by his stomach giving a loud grumble. Panic spiked within him as he feared that he woke up his siblings.
Please don't wake up. Please don't wake up…
He whipped around and breathed a sigh of relief as he saw that he (thankfully) didn't. Yakko was lying facedown on his pillow, in a kind of starfish position, snoring softly.
The relief was short-lived when the memory of the nightmare that he had previously came back with a vengeance. His panic returned as well and he tried the breathing exercises but they didn't seem to help this time around.
Wakko ended up sinking to the cold floor, hugging Beary tightly to his chest. Tears sprang to his eyes as the memory continued. He had a nightmare of the worst memory of Weed Memlo.
To say that Weed Memlo was mad at Wakko would be the understatement of the 20th century. He was absolutely livid.
Wakko had been dragged by his scruff back to Memlo's office and was now being forced to listen to a neverending tirade of scathing shouts and verbal abuse being directed right at him.
"What the fuck was that, Wakko-baby!" Memlo shouted, his eyes shining bright as well as his face being cherry-red. "That whole 'I don't trust any adults' shit? What the fuck was that, huh?"
Wakko merely sat on that worn-in, brown leather couch, staring at a stain on the ragged, gray carpet. He chose not to look into Memlo's dark eyes. He was trying his best to tune out the shouting.
(Or rather, he was much too used to it by this point. Simply waiting for it to be over
with.)
"Answer me!"
Wakko huffed a heavy sigh before looking up into Memlo's dark eyes. They were nothing but deep twin pools of endless rage and hatred.
"I don't trust any adults," Wakko had said so matter-of-factly that Memlo had taken a step back, almost as if he were shocked by his answer.
Memlo's own shock quickly vanished, however, being replaced by anger once again.
"What're you saying, Wakk-baby, that you don't trust me? The man that took you and those siblings in when he didn't have to?" he took a step forward, rigidness apparent in the way that he held himself. "I've done everything for you and yet you have the nerve to be nothing more than an insolent brat!"
Wakko rolled his eyes, frustration beginning to bubble up within him. What happened next was something that he hadn't even really planned, he hadn't meant to mock Memlo like that, but…It did feel kinda good…However short the feeling remained.
"'What're you saying, Wakk-baby? That you don't trust me? The man that took you and those siblings in when he didn't have to?'" Wakko shook his head, the frustration continuing to bubble more and more, like lava in a volcano. "I don' trust you. You hurt me. You make me hate m'self and, well, I hate you. I've never hated anyone, ever. But now, I do."
Silence.
Utter silence.
Silence so thick in fact, that you could cut it with a knife.
Wakko went back to staring at that stain on the carpet, not caring if Memlo stood there sputtering, trying to say something back.
"You-" Memlo stammered. "-Why—you-'' he then huffed out something that sounded half-way between a growl and a groan. Whatever it was, Wakko knew that he had gotten under Memlo's skin.
Then an idea struck him. He wondered if he should leave. Maybe he could finally muster up the courage to tell Yakko what was happening. Sure, Yakko craved Memlo's attention like that of a dandelion craving sunlight but, if he knew then…Then Yakko could—no—would protect him.
Whatever Yakko had said to him after he accidentally broke his necklace…It had been an accident. Yakko hadn't meant to call him an idiot. Right? Right. He had to believe that Yakko didn't mean it. Because if he believed otherwise then…
Then who else could he rely on? Dot?
No, no, no, no. There was no way that he could confess to his baby sister what was going on. She was only nine years-old after all.
(Okay sure, she was beginning to swear like a forty year-old sailor and was becoming scarily angry rather than her original fun anger and sometimes drank Sleaze when she
really wasn't supposed to…but…But he couldn't just dump his issues onto her. She didn't
deserve it. To carry his stupid burden…Then again Yakko really didn't deserve it either.)
Wakko was then yanked out of his thoughts by a sudden burning sensation on his cheek.
Huh.
Memlo had slapped him.
What a surprise.
(Not.)
Wakko lifted a hand and pressed it to his cheek before glancing up at Memlo. He had a dangerous expression on his face, one that was slowly morphing into triumph.
Normally Wakko would've simply sat there and took the (physical) abuse that Memlo usually dealt to him but, for some reason, this time he couldn't. He couldn't just sit there and let it happen. So he did something that he had never done before, he retaliated.
Wakko leapt up and in one fluid motion raked his razor sharp claws across Memlo's cheek. He felt the skin tear and warm liquid—blood? —gush from the sudden wounds. It stained his claws red.
After that was all said and done, Memlo stared down at him, a brief blank expression on his face, one that soon twisted into unadulterated rage.
Wakko felt not even an ounce of pride at what he had just done. He had hurt Memlo…Oh, sure Memlo deserved it but…Then…Why did he not feel that way? Why instead did he feel sick and disgusted at himself? Why not direct that towards the man that had slapped him instead?
All of these questions soon blanked in his mind as he heard Memlo speak up.
"Oh, Wakko-baby," Memlo chuckled darkly. "You really shouldn't have done that."
Wakko felt a sudden burst of fear and panic from inside of him and he tried to rush out of the room only to get grabbed by Memlo. He tried his hardest to get out his grip; biting and clawing but Memlo ended up hitting him so hard in the head his vision went black and a strong wave of dizziness washed over him.
After Memlo released him, Wakko fell to the dirty carpet. He somehow managed to find the strength to crawl about halfway across the room before Memlo's shadow fell over him once more.
Wakko turned his head (despite the awful dizziness from the blow).
"P-Please, don't hu-hurt me…" he whimpered.
Memlo shook his head and clicked his tongue. "You should've thought about that before you scratched me."
Wakko's gaze wandered around before it locked onto the bottle of DIP in Memlo's hands. It was a clear bottle too, so he could see the dark green liquid inside of it. He felt his heart drop in his chest and tears sprang to his eyes.
Wakko kept babbling apologies as Memlo bent down and grabbed him by the scruff. Panic spiked his heart as he immediately tensed up, unable to move. His heart hammered in his chest and Wakko could feel a scream begin to rise in his throat as Memlo used fabric scissors to cut away the soft, black t-shirt that he had been wearing to conceal the patchy fur and burn scars along his back.
The burn scars that had been caused by Memlo dripping DIP down his back as a sick punishment.
Memlo let out a quiet sigh. "Y'know, I'm sorry about this Wakko-baby," then he laughed a bit, as if he wasn't actually sorry. "But you need to learn a lesson. One that you'll never forget."
Wakko's eyes widened in horror, frantically wondering what Memlo was about to do.
It was answered shortly by a steady stream of DIP being poured all down his back. Memlo didn't hold back this time, he poured all of the contents down Wakko's back, not giving a care in the world. A scream tore its way through Wakko's throat and he let it out; pain, hotter than sun, seared his back. The pain eventually became too overwhelming and Wakko ended up (thankfully) passing out.
However, it wasn't long before he was cruelly awoken by an ice-cold bucket of water being poured over him. It drenched his fur and made the awful burns on his back sting even worse.
Wakko let out a horrific scream that ended in a painful sob. Pain drove into his back like a billion pinpricks. He laid there on that dirty, stained, carpeted floor, unable to process what had just occurred to him.
Memlo (surprisingly) helped him up and carried him to the brown leather couch and promptly sat him down. Wakko whimpered, staring up into Memlo's dark eyes. Those same twin pools of endless anger and hatred now held a new emotion; satisfaction.
(Something lurched deep within Wakko's stomach as he witnessed it. The fact that Memlo
was…Happy that he had hurt him was…It was…Awful.)
Memlo reached down and cupped Wakko's cheek prompting Wakko to lean into the touch despite every animation cel in his body screaming at him not to. Why, oh why did he seek comfort from the man that had deeply hurt him just now?
He was then cruelly brought out of his thoughts by Memlo pinching his cheek.
"Don't you ever attack me like that again," When Wakko didn't immediately respond, Memlo dug his nails into his cheek. "Got it!"
Wakko could feel numbness wash over him as he promised. If he did what Memlo wanted him to do then…He'd never get hurt again. Right? Maybe Memlo was right, he needed to learn a lesson, one that he'd never forget. And, well, he'd certainly never forget this one…
Memlo, satisfied with the answer, left without another word. Eventually Wakko somehow got the strength to get up and check the damage. His heart dropped in his chest as he saw the result.
And in response…
He passed out.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Wakko felt something cool suddenly press into his neck and it shocked him enough that he was able to break away from that horrific memory/nightmare. His breath hitched and he breathed and choked as he tried to calm himself down.
As his gaze flicked wildly around the kitchen — when had he gotten there? — he ended up spotting Yakko in the corner of his vision, sitting beside him. Then he felt their fur brush as Yakko pressed closer to him.
That cool thing against his neck — whatever it was — helped soothe him in a way that words simply couldn't. After a few moments of calm, Wakko found that he had somehow curled up in a corner of the kitchen (Again, how had he gotten there?) while tears poured freely down his face, squeezing Beary, having apparently lost her left button eye in the turmoil.
Terror suddenly seized him as he realized that he was cornered, trapped. His breathing hitched in his chest once again and he felt as if he was going to pass out. It seemed that Yakko noticed because the next thing Wakko knew, that cool thing — a washcloth — was pressed against his cheek.
Wakko flinched away out of pure instinct, but leaned back into the coolness. As Yakko gently mopped Wakko's face with the cloth he couldn't help but subconsciously compare him to Memlo.
Memlo had always been rough and callous with the way that he handled him but Yakko here was being extremely soothing and gentle. Wakko could feel himself begin to be lulled to sleep but ended up snapping back awake when Yakko finally spoke up.
"Wakko," Yakko whispered. "What happened?"
Wakko blinked, a heavy feeling settling in his chest. How could he tell Yakko about what had just happened? Heck, he didn't even know what had happened…
(Okay, so he had probably panicked and screamed and woke up Yakko, how he managed not to wake up Dot was a miracle in and of itself.)
Yakko continued mopping Wakko's face with the cool washcloth despite the fact that he didn't answer his question. Something that would've made Memlo pissed, something that would've made Memlo yell at and insult him, something that would've made Memlo hurt him. (Either emotionally or physically. Sometimes both.)
"Was it just a night terror or sleep walking?" Yakko asked gently. "'Cause I remember a long time ago…You used to have them really badly. Heh, I remember one time I tried to help Dad guide you back to your room only…You ended up slamming us both into a wall...Bet you don't remember that, huh?"
Wakko shifted uncomfortably as Yakko brought up a memory from Before. It was always uncomfortable remembering things from Before.
"I-It was nothin'." Wakko managed to croak out.
Such an automated response.
Yakko paused, his hand stilling against Wakko's cheek. "Wak, if it was nothing then you wouldn't have been curled up here bawling your eyes out. If it was nothing then Beary would still have her left eye…"
Wakko squeezed his eyes shut for a brief moment, guilt swirling in his mind that he had done that. Had hurt someone that he loved. (Again, logically he knew that Beary was just a stuffed teddy bear but, well, it still made him feel guilty for hurting her like that. And again, he was only eleven years old…Perpetually eleven years old for…For over sixty plus years.)
He felt Yakko wrap a hand around his and gently pull Beary from his grasp. He cracked one eye open and saw Yakko move her up and down as if she were speaking to him.
"Chin up, Wakko, what's got you so down in the dumps?" 'Beary' said.
Wakko wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry.
"I-I dunno."
"Well, whatever it is, just know that I love you soooooo much." And as if to prove it, Yakko pressed Beary close to Wakko's face. Wakko guessed that Yakko was just trying to get him to smile or laugh but at the same time it was beginning to irritate him. Why couldn't his eldest brother just tell him these things directly?
"Did you have a nightmare?" 'Beary' asked. "Don't worry Wakko, you can tell Beary all your deepest, darkest secrets!"
Wakko felt silly and frustrated. Again, why couldn't Yakko just ask him these questions himself? He tried to get up and leave only to be enveloped in a tight hug.
"I was just trying to get you to laugh," Yakko confessed. "But I get it, I prolly should've just said that stuff myself. I'm sorry."
A wave of guilt crashed over Wakko and he whimpered, "'No, 'm sorry…"
Wakko could feel Yakko shake his head and nuzzle his nose into his fur.
"You don't have to apologize."
Wakko tried to relax into the hug but some deep emotion prevented him from.
After a bit of time passed, Yakko spoke up.
"So, uhhhhh, do you wanna say what caused you to curl up and cry like that or…?" asked Yakko.
Wakko sniffled and whimpered as he confessed to Yakko about his horrific nightmare. Yakko didn't say a word, merely nuzzling his nose into Wakko's fur and gently (ever so gently) rubbing his back. While Wakko recounted what happened he didn't miss the way that Yakko stiffened nor the way that he growled deeply when he mentioned the horrific things that Memlo had done to him. Wakko thought for sure that recounting it would make him burst into tears but instead he felt a sort of numbness creep up inside of him.
Afterwards Wakko had asked if he deserved it. Yakko stiffened almost immediately and Wakko could feel Yakko's hackles begin to rise.
"No, no you never deserved it," Yakko said in a quivering voice. "What that…bastard did to you? You never deserved it, Wakko. Ever." Then he swallowed hard. "W-Why? Do you think that you deserved it?"
Wakko squeezed his eyes shut, wondering if he ought to say it. Confess the awful truth. Say what he could never say before now.
"Y-Yes?"
With that confession the floodgates opened and Wakko ended up sobbing his heart out as Yakko held him close. At some point Yakko managed to scoop Wakko up into his arms and carried him back to his bunk. The two laid in it with Beary squished between them. Yakko held Wakko close as he cried. Eventually, by some miracle, Wakko manages to calm down enough by Yakko gently rubbing his back and whispering in his ear.
"If I ever run into Memlo," Yakko said, his voice edged with undeniable anger. "I'll make his life a living hell, I swear it, baby bro. And I won't let him hurt you. Ever again."
A small smile tugged at Wakko's lips at hearing his eldest brother swear.
"And, you never deserved it," Yakko continued. "Memlo was just some messed up guy that took all his anger out on you. But you never deserved any of what he did. Y'know that, right?"
Wakko's heart had always known. But his stupid ill brain had always told him otherwise. It was odd to think now that what could stave off those intrusive thoughts was a simple hug or a cuddle.
(Too bad he couldn't be hugged twenty-four seven. Although, knowing Yakko, he wouldn't object to it. Not one bit.)
Wakko was brought out of his thoughts by a hand gently cupping his cheek. A bit of dread crept its way up his spine as he briefly remembered that Memlo would always cup his cheek before pinching it, as if to say 'You don't deserve any goodness. Anytime anyone touches you, they'll end up hurting you. Just like me.'
Wakko tried to ignore the dread as he leaned into that touch, desperate for any kind of comfort even if it turned out to be false. He had to remind himself that this was Yakko, his eldest brother who would never hurt him. Even if he had called him an idiot so many years ago and had become kinda distant from him and Dot. But it was fine, he didn't need to remember that right now.
"Y'know that you never deserved what Memlo did to you. Right?" Yakko repeated, a tiny quiver in his voice.
I didn't deserve it?
Oh, how easy it was to just agree with Yakko and yet…something was preventing him from saying it aloud. That something always did.
So instead Wakko simply nodded in agreement, even as that something turned into an unending pool of sadness. Even as he squeezes his eyes shut. Even as he bawled his eyes out again. And even as he began to panic. Yakko was there, gently shushing him, holding him close.
Eventually his eyes dried completely and as exhaustion washed over Wakko, he let out a ferocious yawn before then nuzzling his face into Yakko's chest.
"I'll be here," Yakko whispered, "even in the morning. I'll still be here."
The lull of sleep pulled at Wakko and so he let it, a small smile staying on his face.
In his dream, Wakko walked precariously along the great willow tree's bent trunk. In his dream, he met Yakko hanging upside down on one of the great tree's many branches.
"C'mon Wakkoreno, join me!" Yakko called out. "There's plenty of branches, anyhow."
As Wakko made his way over to his brother, some strange emotion came over him. Something that he couldn't quite pinpoint, something that…That he hadn't felt in such a long, long time.
It finally hit him. It was calm.
Calmness settled over him like a warm blanket on a cold, winter morning.
And Wakko smiled.
End.
