They Wouldn't Understand

(Day 71: Sunday Afternoon)

Ben sighs, as he hears the loud knock, before he stands from the round table. He finishes off his soda and then hears the pounding again. He crunches the can before tossing it into the paper bag, and then he makes his way to the door and unlocks it. When he opens it he immediately notices the clenched jaw and piercing, blue eyes, "Dad." He isn't well. Ben takes a few steps back, "What are you doing here? This is my school. You can't just show up here."

His father steps into the room, "Who do you think is paying for your tuition?" and Ben closes his eyes as the slamming door swings shut, finding his father coming nearer when he opens them again. "What did you tell her?" Ben quickly paces backward, but eventually he feels a pain in the back of his calf as he hits it on the metal bar. "I know you said something." Ben glances behind him and sees the bed. "What did you say?"

When Ben feels the back of his collar pull him forward he looks back and sees his father's face is inches from his. He glances down at the hand bunching the front of his shirt, before he irritably comments, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't lie to me," his father shouts, and Ben shuts his eyes again, turning his head to the side, as droplets of saliva make contact with his face. "I know you told that therapist something."

Ben looks back at him and whispers in slight shock, "The therapist?" He glances down at the blue carpet, "You mean the guidance counselor?"

"What did you tell her?" he shouts again.

Ben slightly shakes his head, "We talked about Mal, how she was in jail and the—"

"What else?" he insists, but as Ben's mouth opens he finds he has no words to speak. His father grits his teeth, "I know you said something about me. What did you say?"

Ben scrunches his eyebrows, "You? Nothing."

"Liar," his father accuses. "I know you told her something about me."

"No, I didn't," Ben yells back. "Why would I tell her anything? There's nothing to tell." His expression softens, and after a slight pause he softly questions, "Is there?"

His father's face shifts, before he looks down and unclenches his hand from his son's shirt and slightly shakes his head, "No. Of course, not." He straightens out the crinkles, "You know how I am about privacy." before he places a hand on Ben's shoulder. "I just really needed to know that you didn't discuss family matters with her."

"Don't worry," Ben frowns. "I didn't."

He attempts to smile, "That's my boy." before he releases the hand from his shoulder. "It's just… you know. The people… They wouldn't understand."

"I know," Ben answers, before his eyes shift. "Don't worry. I would never want to hurt you and Mom like that." His father nods before turning around, shuffling towards the door, and after he opens the door Ben comments, "You know." He eyes the floor for a second, "If tuition is an issue, I can just start paying for it myself."

His father gives him a look, "Don't be stupid. You're still young. You shouldn't have to worry about that kind of thing." Ben's mouth slightly gapes, but he doesn't speak. His father uncomfortably asks, "So, uh, will you still be joining us for dinner?"

"Of course," Ben plainly states.

He nods, "Good. That's, uh, nice to hear." before he eyes the hallway and then back at Ben. "I should go."

Ben doesn't speak, and after his father finally leaves he lets out a tiring breath and sits back down at the wooden table. He stares down at his textbook, attempting to read; however, he keeps losing focus, as he finds his eyes fixating back to the door. He shakes his head and leans back in the chair, before he pulls out his phone and begins to type. Hardware store near me.

Ben hears the chain tug, as the door opens, and he puts down the drywall knife before he hears him shout, "Ben?"

He turns towards the door, "Get back." and after he does Ben unchains the door.

When it fully opens Doug frowns, holding up the dorm key, "You know, this is pretty useless when there's—" He walks in and shuts the door to look at it, "What's up with the chain?"

"I just thought we should be able to see who we're letting into our room," Ben evenly states, before he goes over to lock it again. "You know. Before they come in."

"And the wall," Doug notices. "What's up with that? I thought you said you were going to get someone to do that."

"Yes. Well," Ben breathes, "that's terribly public, isn't it?" He gives him a look. "And besides." Ben turns around to continue evening out the joint compound, "If I can learn how to do things for myself, then I won't have to depend on anyone anymore."

"Because patching up a wall is something that a king who lives in a stone castle would need to learn," Doug counters.

"Stone can break too," Ben mumbles.

"What?" Doug furrows his eyebrows.

"It's an old castle," he unenthusiastically comments. "Things break. Get over it."

Doug steps closer to him, "Ben. What's going on?"

"I'm fixing the mess I made."

"Okay. Yeah," Doug accepts before glancing between Ben and the wall. "But I meant." He looks him up and down, "What's up with you?"

"Just tired," Ben expresses with widened eyes, glancing down for a second.

"Tired?"

Ben lets out an annoyed breath, before he points the wide knife out, "Of this wall." He nearly kicks it but prevents himself from doing so. "This stupid wall." He continues to even the mud out, "I'm just so sick and tired of looking at it, knowing what's behind it, and knowing no one else even knows about it."

"There's something behind the wall?" Doug questions.

"No. Not—" Ben hits the knife against to wall, and the edge makes a dent in his hard work. He sadly laughs, "I just don't understand how it can change so much." He lets out a large breath, "All the time!"

"Look. Ben," Doug begins.

He turns towards him and raises his hands, "I'm just so tired of it all. You know?"

"Ben," he uncomfortably comments, as he cautiously raises an arm. "Put the knife down." Ben eyes it for a moment. "Please."

He lowers his arms to his sides, "I have to fix it. If I don't fix it—"

"Hey. Ben." Doug takes a step forward, "It's going to be okay."

"People will find out. If they find out…" He lowers his eyes for a moment before slightly shaking his head, "It's all my fault." Doug can see the tears forming in his eyes, "It's going to be all my fault."

"Shh," Doug hushes as he places a hand on Ben's shoulder.

"He's going to kill her," Ben realizes.

Doug is put off by the genuine fear in Ben's expression, but he still manages to take the knife from his hand and drop it on the stack of paper towels. "Who?"

Ben urgently places his hands on Doug's shoulders as he widens his eyes, "The clock. The clock will know."

"The clock," Doug slowly repeats.

"The clock has witnessed. The clock will know. We must find him."

"Him?" Doug questions.

Ben grins hopefully, "Yes. The clock. He's seen it all. He will know it all."

Doug removes Ben's hands from his shoulders, "You're starting to sound like Evie, man." and then Ben frowns. He attempts to smile, "Look. Hey." Ben turns his head back up. "How about you just get a little rest, okay? We can go find that clock in the morning."

"Oh. Sleep?" Ben shakes his head, "No. No. I can't sleep. I have to meet him." He looks away for a moment, "If I don't meet him, then—"

"Ben," Doug loudly interrupts. "He's a clock. I'm sure he can wait until the morning."

"No. Not him." Ben wets his lips, "My father. I have to meet my father. We have dinner."

"Oh, right," Doug shuts his eyes and shakes his head. He sighs, "Look, Ben. I still really think you should rest a little." He lifts a hand, "It's early. You can rest for a few hours."

"I can't sleep," Ben frowns.

"Then don't," Doug compromises. "Just rest." He turns Ben around, "Here." and leads him towards the bed. "Lay down. Relax." Ben does as he's commanded, wrapping the blue sheet around himself. "Would you like anything?"

"A soda," Ben states. "I want a soda."

"Okay," Doug calmly answers, before he goes to grab one from the mini fridge and sets it down on the bedside table. He notices the flush in Ben's complexion and tests his forehead, "God. You're burning up." Doug goes to get Ben's water bottle from the table, setting it beside the now opened soda, before he opens the drawer and pulls out the pill bottle; however, after he takes three out and tries handing them to Ben he gives him a look.

"I already took those."

"So, take some more," Doug presses.

Ben sighs, "I'm never going to get off these stupid things, am I?"

He shakes his head, "Ben. What's got you so worked up?"

It takes a minute for Ben to carelessly answer, "Life." Doug gives him a look, but after another drink of the soda Ben remembers, "The clock." but then gulps in realization. "I don't know where the clock is." He turns his head up at Doug with pleading eyes, "You will help me find the clock, won't you?" Doug doesn't speak. "I need to find him. He can help us."

"Look. Ben," he begins.

"We need to find him," Ben persists. "He'll kill her if we don't."

Doug glances away for a moment, before he takes his phone from his pocket, "Just forget about the dying girl for a minute. Okay?" He forces his phone towards Ben, "Here. Take it."

"What is it?"

"It's a game." Doug explains, "You match the colors and the shapes." before he makes a motion to do one move himself. "See. Simple."

Ben looks back up at him, "Oh. No." as he shakes his head. "I can't do this. I need to help her. We need to find the clock. I need to talk to him."

"Don't worry," Doug tenses a smile, before he lifts a hand in reassurance. "I'll help you find the clock."

"Really?"

The way Ben had said it, it was like he was so desperate for him to help him but that he never believed he would. Doug nods with a frown, "Yeah. I'll help you find him."

Ben breathes, "Thank you."

"No problem." Doug gestures to the table, "I will just be there. On the laptop doing research. And I will be right there if you need me."

He partly smiles, "You're such a good friend."

Doug pauses, "Just." He makes a noise as he reaches for his phone and types in the password again. "You need to tap it for it to stay on."

"Right," Ben remembers as he's handed the game back.

"So, yeah." Doug tries to smile again, before he points back over to the table, "I will just be over there… researching. While you stay right here and take care of yourself. Okay?" Ben nods. "Okay. Good, then." He folds his hands together and slowly makes his way to the table.

- I have no idea how it got from the beginning of the chapter to the end of it, but I think I like it. I've done a lot of writing involving mental disorders and everything, but I've never gotten the opportunity to write real "crazy" before. Between Evie and Ben it's been entertaining, although I doubt I will ever write anything quite as fun as this again... You know, I just can't stop laughing, but I suspect it's because my father has paranoid schizophrenia and I've practically had to indulge in his delusion as Doug did here with Ben... except that when I do it I act like it's real, because to him it is real and fuels his motives to the very real actions he takes... and then I just laugh it off later, probably as some coping mechanism. You know, assuming no one dies... That was supposed to be a joke, but I know it's not. It's really not. (PS: I don't currently live with my father. I live with my manic-depressive mother). Life is fun, isn't it? Yeah. I think so too. You know, and the kinds of delusions my father's had, you wouldn't believe it... and I'm not going to say it at this current time, because it is a very serious... Well, you know, it's serious. All I will say is that I should turn his delusions into a book, because you cannot just make that kind of thing up and I would probably make a fortune out of his genius mind. I know. It sounds kind of psychopathic, but if I did manage to make a fortune by turning his delusions into a book, then at least he would have finally done something for me... This is all probably a little tmi:too much information, but if you didn't care then you didn't read. So, all is well that ends well... or so they say. Have a great day! I love you all! No. Seriously. If you've made it this far, then you're absolutely, positively awesome. Oh, and please do comment on the chapter too and not just this author's note. I know my life is very entertaining and completely messed up, but I already know that. No. I want to hear you talk about how entertaining and messed up Ben's life is or else, you know, why did I write it? You know, other than giving characters similar problems to mine or people I know, timesing it by 100, and then trying to get them to solve it.

- Don't worry. Ben's mental breakdown isn't completely permanent, obviously.