"But it wasn't my fa-" the child attempted to protest weakly.
"Shut up!" the burly man turned around swiftly, much quicker than his size would indicate. His hand was raised, but it did not land on his son.
The little boy looked up in surprise, teary eyed, but his expression hardened to anger. "If you would listen to me!" he screeched, grinding his teeth.
When he realized what he just did, the boy tried to run off and avoid his father's wrath, but the man was much faster and had a reach advantage. His thick fingers crushed down tightly on the child's arm as he pulled him back to face him, then set his other hand on the boy's shoulder and shook him.
"The hell did you just say to me you piece of shit? Who the hell do you think I am, one of your little friends?! I will not be spoken that way!"
Salty water slipped from the boy's eyes; he tried to wipe them away with the sleeve of his sweater, but his father's grasp prevented his effort.
"What are you crying about?" he shouted in the boy's face, "Big kids don't cry, Chara! Especially boys."
He released Chara, who ran upstairs as fast as he could. As soon as he reached his room, he rushed in and slammed and locked the door.
"Don't you go slamming the damn doors around!" his father's muffled voice shouted from downstairs.
Chara didn't care. He fell back against the wall, closed his eyes, and just cried. Even after the tears stopped, the boy did not move. He allowed the wall to hold his weight as he composed himself and then walked over to his bed, sitting down and waiting. His mother would be coming home soon, and he knew when she did, he would be in trouble.
If his father would just hit him, even once, then he would be off the hook. His father wasn't allowed to discipline him, according to his mother, because he always got carried away, a lesson he had learned from Chara's grandmother, who learned it from his great grandfather. A cycle. Chara, on multiple occasions, wondered if he would be like this when he was a father. The thought sickened him.
He heard the door open and close. It wasn't slammed, so he knew it was his mother. Chara sat up and waited for the call. Waiting. Waiting.
"Chara, come down here!" the woman's voice shouted angrily, accompanied by a slammed door.
His father was gone. Chara knew better than to make either of his parents wait, so with a heavy sigh and tears already forming in his eyes again, he stood and stepped over to the door. Deep breath. He exited the room and slowly walked down the stairs. The woman turned and glanced at him.
"Oh. I was about to come get you; I thought you didn't hear me."
Her voice was calm, but it always was. Long blonde hair was tied in a ponytail, and stress lines already burned under her eyes and around her mouth, though she hadn't even reached forty yet. Her glassy green eyes were emotionless and tired.
"Want to talk?"
Chara stubbornly shook his head, and crossed his arms, but he relaxed into a more submissive position at the look his mother cast him.
"We are going to, anyway."
The boy wanted to argue, but he was smarter than that, and instead, nodded and walked over to where she sat down on the couch. He sat next to her and she placed a strong, but thin hand on his shoulder. He flinched, and she didn't miss it, but she ignored the fearful reaction.
"He is getting better," she defended, "And you must respect him."
"Why?" Chara demanded, not looking at her.
"Because he is your father."
"So?"
"He gave you life. Or, at least, he helped."
The boy wrinkled his nose in disgust, only recently finding out how that came about, and was still getting used to the idea.
He then lifted his head and said, "He never wanted me."
"That's not true."
Chara just gave her a hard look and she reconsidered her response. "Alright, he didn't…plan on it, but he loves you. You have to remember-"
"It's just how he was raised," the child quoted bitterly.
His mother nodded, giving her son a slight, sad smile. Then her expression turned stern. "Now, care to explain what happened today?"
"I can't aim," the child whispered softly, tears lacing his voice.
"Why do you say that?"
"I was playing ball outside and I…uh, hit him in the head."
"Purposefully. And then laughed."
The boy looked up, shocked, and shook his head vigorously. "That's not true!"
His mother raised an eyebrow, "Now, Chara, why would he lie?"
"Because! I don't know, but it's not true! I did it on mistake and said 'sorry' and started yelling and dragged me inside, and I-I-I!"
The boy started hyperventilating and his mother hugged him to her side, shushing him.
"It's okay, Chara, I believe you, I believe you, it's okay."
Her son simply threw his arms around her and cried.
/
It was dark when his father finally arrived home, but as autumn was approaching, daylight didn't last as long as it once did. Chara was in his room when he heard the bang of the front door. So far, the boy had managed to evade punishment with just a small lie, but his father hadn't been entirely truthful either. There was no way he would be so foolish as to laugh at his father.
Quietly, he snuck down the stairs until about halfway, listening to his parents converse.
"And you believed the brat?" his father's voice shrilled indignantly.
"No, but he was hysterical, Wren."
Chara scowled at his mother's words. She lied to him, saying she believed him and giving him false hope.
"I don't care! Did he cry? I bet he did. He is too old for that sort of behavior, Vallen."
"He is a child!"
"Yeah, and look at the pathetic shit! He has no friends, failing grades…he's worthless."
"Don't say that about our son."
"Your son-"
"He is as much yours as mine," the woman hissed.
She stood and began walking towards the stairs. Chara crawled back up as quickly as possible, thumping against the steps and running into his room. He jumped into bed and turned away from the door, tossing his blanket over himself. The door creaked open.
"I know you were listening, you aren't clever, Chara," her voice was stone.
Chara did not move.
"You can't fall asleep with the lights on," she stated, "You never could. If you don't acknowledge my existence in the next three seconds, you're going to be in worse trouble."
Grumbling, Chara sat up and looked at her guiltily.
"It's not your bedtime."
"I know."
"I'm not mad," she sat down beside him on the bed, "that you were down there. I'm upset that you were sneaking around-"
"But Papa woulda-"
"But I understand why you felt the need," she continued pointedly, "more so, I am upset that you tried, poorly, to deceive me by running up here. But let's talk about earlier."
"Papa's a lying jerk!" the child yelled, clenching his fists.
He felt a stinging slap across his face, and shouted out, jumping up from the bed, and, on instinct, tried to run out the door, but his mother grasped his wrist and pulled him classing, smacking his thigh this time.
"You will not speak about him that way."
"Because you love Papa more than me," the boy accused, glaring tearfully at her.
"That's not-"
"Yes it is! That's why he's still around and you don't care when he hurts me because you didn't want me either!"
The woman slapped him across the face again, biting her tongue so as to not say something she would regret, and then left the room, slamming the door behind her. Chara glared at the door, then crawled up onto his bed and cried.