An Intermission.
I sneak underneath the slide of the school playground, sometimes I just need a break from the other kids. A relieved sigh escapes my mouth as my skin cools down from the shade. Fucking SPF-100 bullshit, it didn't do shit to protect my skin.
And that black-haired girl, Raven! She keeps trying to get me in trouble! I wish we never met!
Well, maybe that's a bit too drastic. . . What? No, don't think that! You hate her!
I peek around the slide and instantly, I lock eyes with her. My eyes widen for a second, but I then recover and glare at her. She smiles back at me teasingly which makes something in my stomach tingle with. . . something. I don't know what.
And before I know it, a clump of dirt smacks me in my face. I immediately panic and spit and flail my arms wildly. Her laughter floods my ears, along with the laughter of a few others. When I finally calm down, I look up and see a group of twelve kids standing behind Raven and laughing at me. My face burns red with embarrassment and I retreat back behind the slide.
"Bastards." I say under my breath.
Before long, I hear my teacher call for our class to come back in. I don't move though. The sounds of rushing, clumsy feet hitting concrete fade off toward the building which makes my body slowly relax. I tilt my head back a release a deep sigh that had been building up in my throat.
I wish I'd been born an adult - I should have been born an adult - then I wouldn't have to put up with these other. . . things. I'm already too mature to mess around with other third-graders, those idiots.
When I'm completely sure that the playground is void of all others, I rush out of my hiding spot. Immediately, I run into someone and fall on top of them. Grunting angrily, I push myself up only to be met with the very face of the one I despise the most, Raven Madison. I stand a step away from from her quickly.
"What're you still doing out here?" I say.
"What're you still doing out here?" She repeats, mockingly. I scowl at her, and she does the same to me. We stand there quietly for a few moments, then she says, "If you really want to know, I was going to leave the school and go to that house on Bensin Hill."
"You're not supposed to leave school while it's still going on!" I say.
"Yeah? You not supposed to stay outside when you're called in either!" She says back.
I cross my arms stubbornly, and say, "Well, I have a good reason to stay out here while everyone else goes in! I hate the stupid attention they give to me, it's like I'm just a trophy to them!" I sigh. "But I guess I'm being too harsh, they only act that way because their parents want them to. They're all desperate to find some type of connection to get in good with my parents." She stares at me, dumbfounded. My face burns with embarrassment as I'm painfully reminded that I'm talking to another second grader, and not someone with the same level of intelligence as me. I try to recover. "I mean, I guess that's why." I say.
After a while, she says to me with a huff, "Well, you should be glad anyone even talks to you! A-And maybe they're not just doing it for their parents, maybe they really do like you! I mean, I do! I-I mean, why should you care what they think anyway? What they do shouldn't be your problem!"
Surprised by her uplifting words, I look at her. No, that's not right. I mean, I really look at her - at her face, at her clothes, at they way she holds herself, at how different she is from everybody else - and I realize that she's like nobody I've encountered. Never mind the fact that she doesn't kiss-up to me like everyone else, or that she sits obsesses over vampires and other things of the dark - no, it's something with more meaning. It's. . .
It's how sure she is of herself, how confident she is in herself, how whether or not people are laughing with her or at her makes no difference to her, how she's true to what she likes and refuses to bend her beliefs in fear of embarrassment. She has everything I lack, everything I need! And as I stare at her in awe with my mouth agape and the sun shining on her black so perfectly to create the illusion that her flowing locks are purple, I realize that I'm everything she lacks as well. That, and something else. . .
We are each others' missing halves, we are meant to be.
I'm still marveling at her when she turns on her heels and walks toward the wire fence. I want to follow her, but I know I can't. If I were to be seen with someone like her, my mother and father would. . . But it won't stay like this forever! One day, I will be above the influence of my parents - something I'm sure that Raven has already achieved - and we will come together and face the world as one.
Suddenly, I'm blinded by the reflection of the sun from a passing car. When I recover, she's already on the other side of the fence and running down the sidewalk. She's so graceful, she's so independent, she's so wonderful.
She's my beloved.
. . .
I hate the light. . . But not today.
The first thing I see when I awake is my carpeted floor coming straight for me. The first thing I feel is hitting the floor.
I roll over onto my back and see my father standing over me, already dressed up in his business suit. He stares down at me with scorn, and I give it right back to him. "You're running late, get ready for school." He says coldly.
I scramble to do as he told me. My shower is quick, I skip brushing my teeth, and I barely glance at the clothes I choose before I put them on. I don't check the inside of my book-bag when I grab it on the way to the car. I reluctantly sit in the front seat beside my father? Why couldn't my mother take me to school instead?
We ride in silence. I look out the window and stare at the lawns littered with melting snow - returning from winter vacation is the worst. I glare at the younger kids playing in the snow on their way to their bus stops; throwing muddy snowballs, stomping in the dirty brown sludge, eating it despite it's obviously unhealthy status.
Pigs. They're all pigs. . .
"Your report card came late this year." Father says as the car stops in the parking lot behind the strip of French style stores by the mall. Why didn't I notice earlier? I snap my head over to my father and just stare blankly at him.
Then I remember, I never waited for my report card to come. Every time the report cards come out, I'd intercept them and dispose of them before my father could see them. By the time he'd get frustrated enough to go to the school and get a printed copy, my grades would have already been improved. . . But this time, I forgot.
. . . I just had to forget. . .
Before I can open my mouth, I feel a stinging sensation on my cheek. "Why do you have two C's and a D?" He growled. I don't respond, I never respond. "You're in fifth grade now, how do you get C's and D's?!" His voice gets louder. I just shake my head in response.
Another strike to the cheek.
Tears start to form in my eyes and choked sobs escape from my mouth. "I-I'll make it up this quarter." I say.
"Oh? And is that supposed to make me forget that you got such terrible grades?" His voice is sinister, sleazy even. Suddenly, he wraps his arm around my small, ten-year-old waist and pulls me toward him. I try to get away with everything I have, but I'm just not strong enough. His fingernails dig deep into my sides and I can already feel blood trickling out of me from underneath them. I let out a small shriek, fearing what he'd do if I got loud like the last time.
"Daddy, please, I can fix it! I can fix it!"
"Quiet!" He yelled and dug into me harder. I fail to hold back a scream when he decides to punch me in my ribs. "Listen boy," He says through gritted teeth, "You're supposed to take over my business when you grow up, and to do that you have to be at the top of your class, no matter what! Do you hear me? Do you hear me!?" His hot, alcohol stained breath burned on my face while he spoke.
"B-But," I stammer out, "I-I want to be a soccer star!"
I shouldn't have said that.
There's a long silence between us as I register the mistake I made. The only thing I can do is wait for his reaction. Finally, his eyes go dark. "A soccer star, huh?" He says quietly. After a few more seconds of silence, he pushes me back to my seat and shifts the car into drive. As we pull out of the parking lot, I hear him say, "I'll call in and tell them you're sick." I close my eyes and sigh at my own foolishness.
Another one is coming.
As soon as my father opens the door to my bedroom, he pushes me hard on the ground. I clumsily crawl over to my bed as he slams the door closed. I try to say something to him, but it all comes out as a bunch of panicked mumbling. He kicks me harshly in my stomach.
"Do you remember what happens when kids go against their parent's wishes?" He kicks me again before I can say anything. "Do you!?"
"Yes!" I say through waves of sobs. In the next instant, I'm lifted up, then slammed back down. His fist connects with my face a few times, then he stomps on my face with his dress shoes.
"If you didn't screw up so much," He says in between stomps, "I wouldn't have to beat the living shit out of you. Would I?"
"N-No!" I shriek through the flood of blood rushing out of my mouth and nose. He finally stops his assault on my face and grabs me by my arm and drags me up the wall. His hand wraps around my neck tightly. I scratch at his fingers desperately and try to beg for him to stop, but nothing can escape me throat. My eyes roll back and I allow my arms and legs to go limp. Just as I'm passing out, I can breathe again. I fall to the floor, my leg hitting my desk on the way down.
He then proceeds to punch me, scratch me, and crush my head into the floor repeatedly for what has to be at least thirty minutes. From time to time, I would hear footsteps halting outside the door, sometimes a "tsk-tsk" would follow it, but always - always - more footsteps would follow. . . But they'd be going away from the door.
"Get on your bed." My father commands with a huff from wearing himself out. I immediately do as he says and quickly turn to look back at him. "You stay on this bed like a good boy, don't you dare come out until I come back, understand?!" I nod frantically, and he storms out of my room.
I crawl under my covers and hug them tightly to my body, quaking with tears. I reach under my pillow and squeeze the Frankenstein doll that my muse gave to me on my birthday into my chest.
. . .
I'm awoken by the sound of drunken laughter and heavy feet later in the day. I can hear multiple voices outside my door talking about something that was apparently funny. I jump when the doorknob makes a noise, indicating that someone has clamped their hand down on it. The door is thrown open to reveal my father and three of his friends barely standing in the hallway.
"Hey boy," Father's voice slurs painfully, "I brought my buddies over fer ya' this time." A wet, crooked smile creeps onto his face.
I don't say anything back, knowing nothing I could say would stop them.
The first one of them to get to my bed is bald and fat and sweaty, and he's wearing a white polo with tan slacks. As soon as he reaches me, he rips my shirt off of me. Another one, wearing a white and yellow tennis outfit, makes it over to me and tears off my sweat pants.
One after another, they. . . violate me. My skin is completely covered in sweat and in. . . in it within a few minutes. I try to distract myself by thinking of my beloved. 'The first time we met in kindergarten.' Is the first thing I think. 'She allowed me to bite her! Sh-She thought she was going to turn into a vampire, it was so cute! Her smile was so beautiful and content!' I let out a muffled cry as they quickened their paces, my thoughts seems to speed up along with them, 'SheworethemostbeautifuldressI'veeverseenatmybirthd ayparty! She'sthemostuniqueandartisticgirlinthisworld! TheFrankensteindollshegaveme-'
My thoughts suddenly stop. . . What happened to the Frankenstein doll?! My heart nearly burst out of my chest in fear of losing such a precious item, or maybe even finding it broken by one of father's friends! I writhe around frantically, trying everything in my power to get away, but it doesn't work.
It never does.
After a while, the two that were occupying me at the time co-. . . finish, and I take the chance push myself off of my bed and search my carpeted floor for the doll. I spot it under the window sill with its now-detached arm beside it.
"What the hell're ya' doin', boy?" My father slurs. Just as I wrap my hands around it, I'm grabbed by my ankle and dragged. "What the hell's this?" He snatches Frankenstein out of my hand and holds it up for his friends to see.
"Aw, it's a little doll!" One of the balding men say in a mocking tone, "Should've known yer boy wanted to be a girl, just look at his pretty, fluffy hair!" The other men laugh, but my father scowls at me with disgust. Without a moment's hesitation, he throws Frankenstein against a wall and it's head and one of it's legs break off and fly off to some unseen area. My hands tighten into fists, my teeth clench, a blinding rage consumes me and in the next moment, I'm seeing red.
"I HATE YOU!" I yell, "I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!" I pound my fists into my father's stomach as hard as I can, and it actually seems like he's feeling pain, despite my young boy strength. It's a short-lived pleasure though. One of the other men knocks me in the head with a shoe.
My mind goes blank, and the next thing I know, my father's friends are getting dressed and walking out the door. My father lingers, though, glaring at me like he was waiting for me to awaken. When he notices my eyes have opened, a smug grin crosses his face. "Ya' had fun, right?" He says.
I glare harder, then I slowly press my palms into my bed and push myself up. Despite the pain, I scoot myself over to the edge and stand. I limp desperately over to him and stop when my feet are close to touching his.
"I-I hate you." My voice comes out as a whimper, "Y-You're a bad person. Ever since I could remember, you've told me to be the very best I can be, yet you're. . . You're just EVIL! One day, when you old and fragile, and I'm big and strong. . . I'll kill you. I'll kill you slowly."
He just laughs and walks away.
He is evil. Just. . . Just the very embodiment of it. No father could possibly be this way to their kid. This is sick, this is disgusting. He can't possibly be my father! My real father wouldn't do this to me! Is there even any actual proof that I'm his?! IS THERE?! My mother could've cheated on him on some guy, at least then I would be ignorant to the very idea that someone would treat their own flesh and blood like this. My real father. . . he'd. . . he'd never. . . defile me!. . . Or would he. . .? Would he. . .?
. . .
I think I have a selective memory. . . But it didn't work this time. . .
I stare at her from down the hallway, lost in the dimensions of her beauty. Her smile lights up her face, as well as my life. How I wish to caress her so lovingly for everyone to see. I wish to smile a genuine smile as we wrap our arms around each other. I want to kiss her in front of a crowd of thousands, and then everyone will know. . .
She is mine, and I am hers. . .
But I can't do any of that, at least, not now. I can't risk these stupid, preppy, bitchy, groupie whores that are constantly following me around and trying their absolute best to get on my fucking dick, ganging up on my beloved. No, I can't allow that to happen. But the very day we graduate, our hands will intertwine, our hearts will swell with the satisfaction of freedom, and in front of the entire student body, we will demonstrate our unbreakable love.
Finally, she closes her locker and walks in my direction. I straighten myself out and walk toward her. When she sees me, her smile immediately disappears - she's so good at keeping up with our facade.
"Hey monster girl. What are you doing after school?" I say with my usual teasing voice.
She glares at me - and she looks so cute while she's doing it - and she says, "For your information, I'm going to be spending time with my boyfriend tonight."
"Oh really? I don't remember us talking about a date for tonight." As soon as the words leave my mouth, I bite my lip and mentally scold myself for allow the facade to drop for those few seconds.
"You wish!" She squeaks, "For your information, I happen to be dating the boy that moved into the mansion."
My heart stops. My lips form the word 'what', but no sound is released. What did she just say? She's. . . She's seeing someone behind my back? No, this can't be! We're meant for each other! How?! How could she do this to me? To us! This can't be happening. This can't be happening. This can't be happening! This can't be happening! THIS CAN'T BE HAPPENING!
My heart beats at a rapid pace and I can feel the sweat gathering across my brow. "I-I," I stammer out, "Whatever, Monster girl. Go. . . Go to class, or something!" I mentally scold myself again for sounding so foolish. I quickly brush past her and rush down the hallway.
But after a few steps, my foot taps against something. I look down and see a small black book with the words 'Scary Antoinette's Diary' written on it. It has to be Raven's, no other girl in this school would have such a beautiful journal such as this. I look back to see that my cheating love is nowhere to be seen. I snatch the book up and make a run for the nearest boy's bathroom.
I lock myself inside the handicapped stall and sit against the wall. After biting and tearing away at the leather strap and lock (and pocketing a now-missing tooth, shit) I forcefully pull it open. The first few pages are just ramblings of times spent with that farmer girl and musings of life had she been a vampire. Nothing noticeable, nothing particularly unique in comparison to her daily life. But then, I come across a page detailing events on the same day she and her friend crashed Matt's party.
She. . . She ran someone over? Dear God, my darling is so hardcore! Oh wait, no. It was Becky, lame. I skip ahead to the following Halloween. Reading over the part where she mentions swatting my hand, I chuckle at the cringe-worthy memory. Though, the pain she'd caused me was actually quite. . . orgasmic. . . But I don't have the time to dwell on that now. Then I read to see. . . to see that she shared a bit of a 'moment' with a certain someone. It's. . . It's the boy that moved into the mansion. I flip the page to see the date set to a few days afterward. . .
. . . A date. . . A date. . . She had a date with him just days after they saw each other for the first time. He treated her to a dinner and lied under the moon with her, and she had such a wonderful time. Such a. . . Romantic time. . .
He will pay for this! Raven's heart belongs to me and me alone! How dare such an insolent, pitiful waste of elemental composition try to so much as think of my beloved?! I will rip apart and DESTROY every single little atom that has EVER made him whole living being! I'll!. . . I'll. . .
Wait a minute. . . What is this? Deeper into the entry, I see a bit of text that has my name in it;
'. . . But the entire experience was nothing compared to even the smallest amount of time I share with my beloved Trevor. How I wish time would move faster so we could finally be together!'
She goes on to contemplate our future and. . . And how our love cannot be matched! Oh, thank Christ! I almost overreacted for a second there! How silly of me to think that her love had been misplaced for even a second. Why would I ever think that she'd commit infidelity?
I read further on:
'. . . But, I should continue pretending to fawn over this boy, this will provide a good cover for the love between my darling Trevor and I!'
A cover? Oh! That's what she was hinting at earlier! She didn't actually mean that boy was her boyfriend, she was trying to send me a subliminal message! I should have realized it!
I begin chuckling to myself at my own stupidity. My snickering gains in volume, and soon I'm broken out into a full laughter.
"A-A real boyfriend!" I say through my gasps for air, "What the hell was I thinking?! I'm so stupid!" The anger I felt just minutes ago has completely dissipated. There's nothing but a shining joy overwhelming me now. And it's all because I read those words of love for me written by my Raven. . .
Definitely not words of disgust for me. . . Or words of praise for that boy. No. . . It was all for that. . . That. . .
My laughter warps slightly and my face begins to burn. The warped noises coming from my mouth slowly shifts into loud, painful sobs and forming tears start to sting my eyes. They run over my eyelids and fall pathetically down my cheeks, leaving behind a wet stream. . . I don't know why I'm crying though, Raven's love for me is undeniable, unarguable even. . . Right?
I hear the bell ring out loud, people will be entering here soon. I try my best to choke back the tears as fast as possible and get on my knees. One by one, I tear each and every page out of the book and throw it all in the toilet and flush it. When I hear the door open, I immediately stop my sobbing. It takes everything in my power to keep the noises in. But then, I hear the person speak,
"Man, I really don't wanna go to practice today."
It's just Matt, good. I slip the now-page-less book into my back pocket and step out of the stall. Matt gasps when he sees me come out. "T-Trevor? What's wrong? Why does it look like you've been crying?"
"I-I have." I choke out, "M-Matt, I need you to tell me she loves me."
He furrows his eyebrows. "Tell you she. . .? You mean Raven?"
"Yes! Tell me she loves me!"
He steps back, accidentally backing into a wall. "T-Trevor, you know she loves you! Why do you need to hear it from me?"
"I just. . ." I sigh and step closer to him. "I just need to be reminded sometimes." I walk closer to him, then I wrap my arms around him tightly. "You're my best friend, Matt. Did you know that?" My stress starts to go away as I take comfort in my friend's presence. But then, I hear a familiar noise.
I quickly withdraw from his body as a few other guys enter the bathroom. I mumble, "I'll see you at practice." To Matt and shuffle out of the room, my face burning red.
I hate being in a rush. . . I really hate it.
I refrain myself from begging Matt to drive slower through the streets to my house.
This is it, I'm going to die.
Allow me to elaborate, our school district has finally gotten on the bandwagon of the Progress Book website. I never really thought much of it when I first heard about it, but I should have. The moment I got the username and password sheet on the first day this year, I just stuffed it in my book bag and forgot about, and just this morning during first period, I found it and decided to put it to use.
Do you know what I saw when the page loaded onto my screen? One B-, three C's, three D's, and two F's.
I should've known my grades were slipping, the warnings signs were all over! Father giving my dirty looks, my mother slapping me more often, I'm such a fool.
I let out a shaky sigh when he finally pulls up to my driveway. Uttering a somber goodbye to my friend, I try to walk my very slowest up to the front door to prolong what's to come, but I know it's an inevitability. When I step up onto the porch and approach the door, I barley lift my hand to the doorknob when it swings open to reveal one of the maids.
"You mother and father wish to see you in their room." She says coldly.
I gulp spontaneously. I hate our fucking workers, they don't even give a shit about what they do to me. Heartless BASTARDS. I drop my book bag in front of my bedroom door as I pass it. My heart pounds harder and harder as I near the door to my parent's room, dread consuming me with every step I take.
Finally, I reach their door. My breathing is labored and tears are threatening to fall from my eyes in fear. I ease the door open. The light from the hallway spills into their dark room. The path of light stops at the other side of the room and illuminates my father, who's sitting in a chair and looking right at me, and my mother sitting crossed-legged in another chair beside him. I swallow hard and step forward, closing the door behind me.
"Trevor, do you know why we're upset with you?" My mother asks, he voice as cold as ice.
"Y-Yes." I say.
My mother stands and walks up to me and stops right in front of me. She slaps me across my face, hard. "Good," She says with a smile, "Then you realize that you deserve both this, and the treatment you father is going to give you, yes? Of course you do." I shrink away from her as she passes by me and exits the room.
"Get over here." 'Father' says to me. I do as he says and stop just a few feet away from him. A blinding pain erupts near my crotch when he punches me at the bottom of my abdomen. I cry out and crumple to the floor in pain. He stomps on my back repeatedly, it's so hard that I think I a few ribs might crack soon. His foot connects harshly with my face and I fling backwards onto my back. The blow shocks me and my vision goes blurry for a few seconds. Before I know it, fists are meeting my face rapidly.
After a few moments of that, he gets up off of me, huffing and puffing from energy loss. "Get up." He commands. But I can't. I can barely feel my spine from when he stomped my back out. He kicks my face again after a time. "GET UP!" He yells.
"I-I can't!" I say back. He kicks me again. My face is covered in my own blood, and my throat is filled with it as well. I cough up a bunch of the red liquid onto the floor, which seems to further anger my 'father'. He kicks my face one more time, then everything goes black.
. . .
When my eyes open again, I realize I'm on the bed now. A few seconds pass before I realize that I'm bent over the edge of the bed and facing down. After another few seconds pass, I start to register the burning, tearing pain being thrust into me. I try my best not to tense up, but the feeling is so unbearable, I couldn't help but to do so. Small shrieks escape my mouth every few seconds, and my father pulls on my hair in response.
Suddenly, I feel some sort of pressure begin to build up in the pit of my stomach. It was a burning pressure that pulled the overwhelming feeling of anger along with it. It continued to build-up within me more and more, and the next thing I know, I'm standing above my father. He's glaring up at me, teeth bared, fumbling to pull his pants back up to defend himself. I don't give him much a chance to do it, though. I throw myself on top of him and release a torrent of fist into his face. With each connection, the feeling of satisfaction grows larger and larger within me.
My hits slow down a bit as exhaustion begins to take over. I then speak to him, each word accompanied by a fist, "Don't you ever fucking put your god damn hands on me ever again, you fucking piece of shit!" I stand and begin kicking him, once again, adding words to my hits, "No kid should have to lose their virginity to their fucking father! You're lucky I don't fucking kill you!"
I suddenly stop, panting loudly. Taking a deep breath, I say, "I'm not gonna waste all of my energy on you now, not when I've still gotta beat some sense into that whore." I locate my boxers and the shorts I was wearing, put them on, and leave the room.
A few minutes later, I find my mother sitting at the desk in her office. I slam the door shut and immediately push the desk over onto her. She screams bloody murder, but she's silenced when my foot shatters her jaw. Now, with my mother, I shall have mercy. She is a lady, after all. Instead of completely going ape-shit on her, I decide to demonstrate to her what she's been allowing to happen to me for all of my life.
"You know mother," I say as turn her onto her stomach and pull the bottom of her hip-length dress up to her chest, "I don't like to be ignored. And when I told you that father was touching me inappropriately, and you just slapped and told me to handle it myself. . . Told me that what goes on between me and him doesn't concern you. . . I'd wondered if you've ever felt the pain that I have. I'd wondered if I was even your real son. I'd wondered if you were even human, to just wave your child away when they're telling you that he's being abused, by your own husband no less!"
I slide my shorts and my boxers down just enough and start getting myself ready. "But then I thought that maybe you just couldn't relate to me because nothing like it has ever happened to you. So, I'm just gonna help you reach a common ground with me. . ."
She cries and screams and begs for me to stop as I relay my father's absurd actions onto. . . well, into her. "Do you get it now, mother!? Do You!?" I yell into her ear. I start pulling harshly on her hair, yanking out weak locks of graying blonde with each thrust. Over time, I continue to go harder and faster, the satisfaction of revenge practically blinding me. But, my vengeance is cut short when I'm pulled off of her. I growl and try to break away from whoever is restraining me, but they obviously have the upper hand of holding me from behind.
"Let me go!" I yell, my voice distorted from my rage, "She needs to to know! She needs to know what she let happen to me!" The person holding me holds me tighter. Angry, desperate, frustrated tear spill from my eyes. She needs to be taught her lesson! Why is this person stopping me?
"Listen Trevor!" It's the voice of one of our workers. Oh, so now they want to get involved? "I'll let you go when you stop struggling!" I go against his request and continue trying to fight him. When I realize the hold he has on me is too good for me to break, I finally submit and go limp in his arms. He lays me on my back and places a loose hand on my shoulders to be ready in case I decide to take him again. "Y-You stop this right now!" He says through quivering, nervous lips, "Y-You can't do this to your mother, she's not responsible for what your dad does to you, got it? Keep her out of this!" He looks over at my mother, who's pulling her dress back down to cover herself.
"Oh, you're trying to be the voice of reason?" I laugh, "You fucking asshole! I've been taking everything, EVERYTHING, from these pigs ever since I could talk, and none of you have come to help me! But now, not that I'm getting even with them, you step in?! What brought this up anyway? Did you have a little epiphany while you were dusting off the family photos? Or are you just simply trying to preserve the people that write you check?" His loose hold on my arm suddenly shifts to a nail-digging death grip, making me wince and recoil.
The sick, selfish fuck can't even deny it.
"What I'm trying to say is, you don't want to go to an orphanage. Right? If you go on like this, it'll get out and that'll be where you're going!And I'm pretty sure neither of you parents want to go to jail. So, you all should make some type of compromise to keep the house a peaceful place from now on, if you want to keep living the good life, that is. You're mother's gonna give you more attention, right ma'am?" My mother whimpers, then she nods. "Right. And I'll make you're father promise to stop touching you."
"Oh really? And you're seriously doing this out of the kindness of you heart, or are you just making sure that your check gets written like I said before?"
"Trevor, don't make this-"
"NO! Tell me the truth! Do you really care about me, or are you just making sure we'll still be able to pay you?!"
He stares at me for a few quiet moments. He looks away, then says, "I. . . I just really need the money. . ."
I glare at him silently. . . So. . . There can't even be a person with a burst of consciousness to genuinely help me? Whenever it comes down to it, it's always going to be for the money, isn't it?
I feel tears threatening to pour from my eyes. No. No crying. Not over something like this. Not over something so. . . so. . .
I hold my hand out to him. "Fine," I say, "I-It's a deal for me, just as long as they agree, too."
He smiles softly and shakes my hand. "I'm really sorry a-"
"NO!" I yell through a sob, ". . . No. Just. . . don't say anything else. We've made the deal, just stick wi-"
"Hey, ya' little bastard!"
I turn around and see my father standing at the door, holding his bleeding nose. In an instant, my sorrow is replaced with the rage I felt earlier and I glare at him intently.
"Ya' broke my fucking nose, you piece of shit!" He starts to limp over to us.
"Sir, please! We've come to an agreement to-"
"I don't care what you two did! He's gonna fucking pay for this!"
Just as he makes a grab for my shirt, I punch him right in his temple. He falls limply and lands on the floor, unmoving.
The worker looks at my father's unconscious body in horror, then he looks at me. "T-Trevor. . .?" He whispers
I don't say anything back to him. But, a smile creeps it's way across my face. Why? Simple.
Causing pain. . . just feels so fantastic. . .
I have a short fuse. . . And how very sweet it is. . .
School is cancelled today. I would have been happy, had the cause not been a fucking mid-October blizzard.
Seriously, fuck the weather.
When it starts to get dark, I put on some warm clothes and walk out into my backyard and enter my tree house. I walk into the "closet" - which is actually just a depression in the structure that's covered by half of a makeshift a curtain - and sit. Yeah, I'm an eleven-year-old with a twenty-year-old vocabulary. Can you dig it? Taking my Nintendo Game-Boy out of my pocket and switching it on, I continue my file on Pokemon Gold. God, I love Nintendo!
After a while, I hear someone climbing up the tree. Matt pokes his head into the crack of the door and smiles at me through the half curtain, and I smile back. "Um. . ." He starts, his face twisting into one of unsureness. "I-I brought someone with me. . . Is that okay?" He asks.
I frown, but then I nod. If it's just one person, it can't be so bad. Can it?
His smile returns and he opens the door all the way to show a freckled girl with long, blonde hair. She's smiling a wide, toothy smile, revealing her half-baby, half-adult tooth combination. I stand, placing my Game-Boy in my pocket, and exit the closet.
"Okay. . ." Matt starts, "Trevor, this is Amanda."
"Mm-hmm." I mumble
"Y-Yeah." He says, looking away from me. He puts an arm on her shoulder and inches her closer to me. "S-So. . . Tell him what you wanted, Amanda."
She blushes and steps a bit closer to me. With a lick of her lips, she says, "U-um, I was just wandering if, um. . . Maybe, possibly we could. . . U-Um, go on a date. . .?"
. . .
. . . Seriously? I mean, is this even real? Did I really just hear those words. . .? Yes, I believe I did. But perhaps they were actually meaningful? Yes. . . That's it. Because nobody would even dream of asking me such a question when it's obvious that my heart belongs to my dearest Raven!
I smile, signalling that I've caught on to her joke, and laugh. He sheepish smile falters, however, and she says, "What's so funny?"
My laughter ceases. . . So. . . She was being serious after all. . . Uh-huh. . . "No." I say dryly.
She blinks, then the beginnings of tears prick her eyelids. "W-What do you mean, 'no'?!"
"I mean, I don't fucking like you." My voice is blunt, and my eyes are cold. "Besides, " I continue, "I love Raven."
Her eyes widen and she lets out a gasp. "Raven?! Raven Madison?! You love her? B-But she's a freak!'
It's Matt's turn to widen his eyes. He glares at her intently and tries to mouth a warning to her, but it goes unnoticed. Then she goes on, "And what has she ever done to impress you?! She just prances around in those stupid bat-covered outfits and wear a bunch of dark eyeliner!"
I appear calm and collected on the outside, but as you can imagine, I'm burning with the fires of the lowest levels of Hell right now. How dare she talk down to my heartthrob so blatantly? First she attempts to woo me, then she insults my life's dependency? "Get out." I say, interrupting her tantrum.
She stops and glares at me. She says nothing for a few moments, but then she turns around. "Fine! You can keep your ugly dog-girlfriend!" Then she walks toward the door.
. . . A dog. . .? A DOG?! Did she really have the audacity, the gall to call my Raven a disgusting little dog?! How could she even cope with using such insults to describe MY darling?!
Before another thought can go through my head, I rush her. Our bodies connect and we go flying forward, the door swings open and we land on the deck - well, I land on the deck. When I look up, I can't see Amanda.
That's when a loud thud, followed by a crack, rings out from beneath the tree.
I crawl over to the edge of the deck and Matt hurries to my side. Amanda lays motionless below us and her leg is twisted at an unnatural angle. Matt immediately rushes down the ladder, and I follow suit a few seconds later. All we can do is stand above her and stare silently.
Suddenly, her face twitches.
We jump back. Her eyes open and pained groans escape her mouth. "G-Guys? What happened. . .?" Neither Matt nor myself reply. "Guys, you need to call my daddy! I-I can't feel my leg!"
I look down at her leg, then back at her face. The insults she used to describe my Raven just moments before starts to echo inside my head. ". . . Matt. . ." I say under my breath.
He barely looks at me when he answers, "Y-Yeah?"
"Does anyone know that she came here?"
He makes a face and stares at me questionably. After a few tense moments, he answers, "No, she snuck out."
". . . Good. . . Help me take her back up the tree." I wrap my right arm around her chest as tight as I can, but I fall back when a hand pushes me away.
"N-No Trevor! Don't do that! Why do you nee-" He isn't able to finish his sentence before I scratch his face, hard. The shock makes him take a few steps back, then fall. He looks up at me and I can see the beginning of tears form in his eyes. "T-Trevor. . .?"
The only reply I give him is a cold glare.
"A-Alright. . ." He whispers.
It takes us a few minutes to get her up the ladder, and whines and cries and complains the entire way up - what a little bitch. I kick the door closed behind me and drop her on the floor in a sloppy heap.
"Guys," She whined, "This isn't funny! Seriously, I need to go to the hospital!"
"Don't worry, I'll call them. Matt, you go home, I'll take care of it myself.".
"B-But Trevor. . ." Matt whispers.
"I've got it, Matt. Go before you get in trouble."
He hesitates for a minute, but he does as I say. I watch him leave through the door and climb down the ladder. It isn't until I see him leave the backyard through the gate that I turn back around.
I take my Game-Boy out of my pocket and get on my knees beside Amanda. "Trevor, what are you doing?!" She shrieks.
I raise it above my head and in an instant, I swiftly bring it down into her head, full force.
"Trevor! What are you doing?!" I raise the Game-Boy up again and bring it back down. "T-Trevor, no!" I raise my hand and bring it down once again. "St-Stop or I'll. . . I'll tell! D-Don't think I won't!"
I don't respond to her feeble attempts at threatening me, I just continue with beating her with my toy over and over again until I can't hear her beg for me to stop anymore. I stand, basking in my achievement. The smell of certain death, the feel of blood splattered on my face, the sight of Amanda mangled and deformed from all of the hits. It's. . . It's. . . Right. . .
. . . But. . . No, this isn't right!
My Game-Boy slips from between my fingers. I step back in horror. Oh God. . . What have I done?! I drop to my knees and grasp her wrist. . . There's still a pulse! She's alive!
I let out a huge sigh of relief. . . But then a thought comes to me, '. . . What if she says something?!'
I look down at her suspiciously. I mean. . . It's definitely possible for her to mention this. . . And Matt, he could. . . No, He wouldn't do that to me! Besides, he left before I started doing this, and he certainly wouldn't tell about me pushing her off the tree, especially since it was an accident. But Amanda, she doesn't have any loyal ties to me! She'd tell without a doubt!. . . I know what I have to do. . .
I jam my hands underneath her and lift her with a bit of a struggle. I drop Amanda off the edge of the deck carelessly and climb down, then I drag her limp and mangled body over to our pool that's slightly frozen at the top. I position her so that her head is laying on top of the thin layer of ice, then I gently placed my hands on her face.
But then. . . She whispers something. I can't hear what she's saying at first, but she repeats herself. ". . .P-Ple. . . ease. Please." That's what she saying. My heart sinks at the sheer pathetic, powerless, desperateness in her voice. The fear of death surrounding her and the very thin trace of the will to survive.
. . . All she came here to do was try to court me. . . And I did this to her. And for what? A few powerless words?! A couple of insults that were taken way to seriously?! Yeah, my Raven means the world to me, but how many other people think the same way about their lovers. . .? I. . .
I've become a monster. . .
With tears pricking my eyes, I push down on her head. The ice beneath her cracks and gives way from the pressure. Her head submerges under the water quickly and quietly. For the first few moments, the water remains still. But seconds later, I can practically see her soul surrender to the inevitable, and bubbles flow up from her mouth. Convolutions ripple down her neck, and I realize that she's breathing in the water to make it go along faster.
Then. . . It finally happens. . .
Acting quickly. I drag the body across the yard into the rose patch. All of the flowers are brown and wilted due to the weather. Since it only started snowing this morning, digging up a large-enough hole, placing her body in it, and putting the dirt on top is quick and easy. I climb back up the tree and practically tear my blood-stained clothes away from my body - the only clothing that remains untainted are my boxers and my tank-top.
The shower I take when I get back inside is long and hot. Although. . . I know that there's no amount of time long enough, no water hot enough, and no soap clean enough to purify my tainted being. I killed someone, and there's no changing it.
Unless this is a dream. . .? But of course, it's not. But it can't be wrong to hope for it, right?
"No." I whisper to myself as I lay in my bed, "It's good to think that this didn't happen, that all of this will be replaced with the thought or fact that it was all a dream. At least, for the first few seconds I'm awake."
And I will do that. . .
But in reality. . . I'll never remember. . .
I get scared sometimes. . . But I feel like I should be scared all of the time. . .
An Intermission.
End