A/N: Been a while since I updated…I was getting accepted into high schools and stuff :3 Anyway, I'm trying to update this when I update 'We Lost a Dream We Never Had' but I always update that one first now…so, next chapter a bit more revealed and more questions arise…
Enjoy!
Tony laid in the bed in Gibbs' guest room. He listened to the sounds around him; Gibbs sanding on his boat, the second of the clock ticking away, and the cars passing by on the street reminded him that he wasn't alone. His eyes travelled to the dark star-less sky. He had never meant for anyone to know the origin of that particular scar. That was probably the memory he was most ashamed of. He knew Gibbs probably thought that his father gave him that scar; that wasn't really true, not at all.
Against his will, he found himself recalling the grim events of that cold, February night.
A seventeen year-old Tony parked his car outside the familiar cemetery. He reached back to the seat behind him and grabbed the large bouquet of white roses he had brought with him. He never stopped his tradition of visiting her grave on her birthday and bringing her favorite flowers to her headstone.
He pulled open his car door, closing it slowly. Tony closed his eyes as he followed the path he always took. He used to visit this place a lot. Coming here multiple times a week to talk to her about his day and his life overall. The younger man liked to pretend she could still hear him. That she wasn't still drunk off her ass; that she was watching over him still.
In most of the memories he had of his mother, she was drunk. There were however, a few memories that stood out from the rest. He always feared he would forget them, but to that day could recall almost every second of them. The four times she hadn't been drunk in order were: his fifth birthday, his kindergarten graduation, Christmas when he was six, and his grandmother's funeral. That's it. For eight years, he could only recall four times when she was perfectly sober.
He felt his chest tighten at the thought. Some days he wished his mother had been normal – that his whole family was. His friends, they didn't get it. They actually envied him. They would say that he was privileged and that they wished their families were rich. Little did they know, money isn't everything. His life wasn't full of money-baths and five-star hotels. Hell, his father left him in a two-star convict filled motel for four days before even realizing he wasn't with him. Apparently, having his own son stay in the same hotel wasn't acceptable for his father.
They just didn't get it and he didn't think anybody ever would.
It is one of those concepts you can't quite wrap your head around completely, unless you have experienced it yourself. He shook his head to clear his thoughts as he stopped beside his mother's grave. He felt the familiar sting of tears in the back of his eyes and willed them back. He couldn't cry. He promised himself he'd never cry about his family ever again. He'd upheld that promise since he was eight; the day he vowed never to show weakness in front of his father again. He wouldn't break it over the sight of his mother's grave. He saw it every year. Nothing ever changed, and it never would.
Tony slowly lowered himself into a crouched position directly in front of the headstone. He gently placed the white roses in front it. He leaned back onto his heels and felt his anger rise. It was irrational, he knew, but he couldn't stop it from growing into a burning rage. A rage directed at his father, at his mother, at the world, at God. Hell, he didn't know if he even believed in God anymore. If there was a God, there was no way He would let these things happen to him…right?
He wouldn't… unless he deserved the pain; unless he was being punished for something.
He stood up and stalked back to his car angrily. His car was cheap, nothing that he was proud of for sure. He didn't need it. He didn't need anything. Nothing at all. He wrenched open his car door and threw himself onto the driver's seat. He immediately put way too much force on the accelerator the second he started the car. He sped down the empty road, in hindsight, he would be glad that his mother was buried near the ocean and away from most of civilization, but now, he was just furious.
His father. He had beaten the hell out of his only son from when he was eight, to when he gave his son the worst birthday present ever when he turned twelve; an acceptance letter from the Rhode Island Military Academy. God, he hated that man. He had only been eight when he had to learn to accept being beaten and berated without so much as a tear, or a whimper. Tony didn't think he could take the pain he was constantly facing much longer. Sure, he was away at school most of the time, but occasionally, his father would visit him or invite, or more appropriately, order him over; it was then the pain was brought back twice as strongly.
His mother. She had always been drunk. She hadn't cared that her only son wanted to spend time with her; get to know her. He had seen her good days and bad, but almost all of them she had at least been buzzed. It had pained him to see her that way. Tony just wished he had been able to find out the reason why. Why she seemed to want to drink herself into oblivion. What had she been hiding from? What was so bad, she hadn't wanted to live?
God. How, God? How? How can you let innocent people suffer so much, and assist the wicked? What has he done to deserve the pain and suffering he was been subjected to? Whatever he has done, he sure doesn't remember it. Nothing could warrant such pain. His mind was constantly filled with emotional agony and he never got any real sleep. The only sleep he did get was from sleeping pills he had bought. He was a little weary about drugs since they coincide with addiction, but his hand had been forced.
The thoughts swirling around his head came to a screeching halt. He saw an old, oak tree down the road and he suddenly knew what he must do. He saw an opportunity and he took it.
Swerving abruptly he slammed his car into the sturdy oak tree.
Tony felt tears filling his eyes. He had been an idiot. His judgment had been compromised by his grief. He shouldn't have done something so stupid, so reckless. Tony released a shaky breath. It had been miraculous that he had escaped from the "accident" with only superficial injuries. He had broken an arm and a leg, had extensive bruising, and the most troubling, a large piece of metal lodged in his side. They had been able to remove it and it resulted in minimal scarring, but still enough to leave a clearly visible mark.
He rolled onto his stomach and smothered his face in the single pillow on the bed. Why couldn't the past just stay in the past? But right now, the more appropriate question seemed to be: what was he going to tell Gibbs?
A/N: Dun dun dun…Okay, yeah I'm probably a little lazy and have a bit of writer's block about their confrontation so I haven't written it all out yet. Anyway hope you enjoyed this chapter and please review!