Happy holidays! I hopefully will have a chapter for Christmas if I can get it done in time, no promises though. If that doesn't happen, here is another chapter that digs into Michael's dark past and unsure future.
Michael couldn't sleep. He'd tossed and turned with no success, eventually giving up to stare up at the dark ceiling. Even if he had fallen asleep, he was sure the nightmares would find him, as they always did. The longer he laid there and thought about his life, the more nervous he got for his future. What did he know about raising a kid? The only things he knew were how to run from cops, shoot guns, and avoid being shot in the face. It wasn't that he wasn't excited to have a kid, he'd been ecstatic to hear the news, but it was hard enough having to skip town constantly with Amanda, and he that knew doing it with a screaming baby would be near impossible.
Deep down, he knew another reason he was nervous was that he was afraid that his kid's childhood would be worse than his and Amanda's. The memories he'd tried so hard to block out revolved around one person. His father. An abusive alcoholic, the sadistic man made Michael's life a living hell from the day he was born until he abandoned him and his mom when he was a teenager. He never knew what happened to his father, he'd been told so many stories he lost count. Some say he skipped town, or was hit by a train, or joined the navy. Michael never cared what the truth was, he was just relieved that the man who saw him more as a punching bag than a son was finally out of his life.
His abusive childhood made him want a family life, something normal and routine, with the picket fences and kids running around his ankles to prove that he was better than his father ever was. He needed that other stuff too, though. The rush of adrenaline, the feeling of a gun in his hand, all the chases and thrills that his unconventional life entailed. So far, the latter had won out, burying the desire for normalcy somewhere deep within him.
That had started to change when he met Amanda. She was one of the only people that seemed to understand him, and above all else, put up with his crazy stunts. It had annoyed Trevor to no end, probably because he started to think he was going soft. Unlike his friend, Michael knew that they couldn't do this forever, as much as he hated to admit it. He sighed...maybe one day Trevor would understand what he had to lose now. If he ever finds a girl batshit insane enough to marry his ass, maybe, he thought with a chuckle.
He looked at Amanda as he twisted his wedding ring around his finger. They'd been married for a few weeks now. Mrs. Townley, he thought lovingly, gazing at her sleeping form. Michael had made the decision to propose as soon as he learned she was pregnant. It was only a matter of time before they did it anyways, he just decided to speed up the process.
Michael frowned as his thoughts drifted back to the baby. He knew he should tell Amanda about his fears but he wasn't sure he was ready to share the emotions he'd bottled up about his youth. The only thing he'd told her was that his childhood was shitty like hers. Neither of them really wanted to elaborate beyond that. He sighed, sitting up, not noticing that Amanda was beginning to stir.
"Michael...?" she murmured quietly, making him jump a little in surprise.
"Shit," he muttered, turning towards her. "Did I wake you up?"
She shook her head, snuggling up closer to him. "I can't sleep either."
"What's wrong?" he asked softly, one hand idly running through her hair. Maybe she was having the same worries as he was. At least then he wouldn't feel so alone in his thoughts.
Amanda looked at him, biting her lip hesitantly. "Nothing," she said quickly. "Just one of those nights, you know?"
Michael didn't buy it, but he decided to let it slide at least until the morning. "I know just how you feel," he replied as he stroked his wife's hair.
She smiled weakly, resting her head on his shoulder. "You know, I never asked you how you got these," Amanda said thoughtfully, her fingers tracing over the scars he'd received in the twenty-three years he'd been alive.
Now it was Michael's turn to be unsure. It was an innocent enough question, but there was no right way to tell the girl you loved about the times you were grazed by a bullet or were beat by your father. He tried to shake the stress off for now. "Aw, babe, if you wanted me to take my shirt off you could have just asked," Michael laughed nervously, slipping his t-shirt over his head.
Her breath hitched as she noticed how the pale scars shined slightly in the moonlight peeking through the windows. Each one had a different story, each showing evidence of how much pain he'd overcame.
"Uh… there's something I should tell you before…" he stuttered slightly, unusual for the charming criminal. It was dark but Michael could feel Amanda's pleading gaze, silently telling him not to bottle up his emotions, that he wasn't alone in the world anymore.
He took a deep breath, trying to suck it up. "A lot of these…" Michael exhaled shakily, hating how helpless he sounded. "A lot of them...are from my dad, at least all of them until he abandoned me and my mom when I was a teenager."
Amanda looked at him in confusion for a moment before the realization dawned on her. Michael would have given anything to never see the look of shock and pure horror on her face again. "Oh," she whispered, burying her head in his shoulder. "Oh, Michael…"
They laid there in silence for a few minutes. He held her close, unable to form words of comfort. Eventually she murmured, "Tell me."
"Are you sure about this?" Michael asked gently, holding her free hand in one of his own.
She just nodded, her eyes glistening with tears that threatened to spill over. "I'm sure."
"Okay," he replied softly. He wondered where to begin but she did it for him. Wordlessly, her slim fingers moved across his body, coming to rest above a short mark on his forearm.
"That was for disrespect," he muttered, not able to meet her eyes. Maybe if he hadn't been so damn pathetic he could have prevented his father from hurting him.
Amanda seemed to read his mind. Sometimes he swore she actually could, but maybe she just knew him that well. "You're not weak, Michael. There was nothing you could have done. It's not your fault that your dad was a complete prick."
He just sighed. She was right, he knew that, but it didn't make the harsh reality any easier.
She patiently waited for a response but eventually accepted that there would be none. A bit of regret ran through her that she was making him reveal such painful memories, but this revealed a whole new level of trust he had in her. It was a bit amazing to her, even though the stories behind his scars weren't happy, but she wished that he could understand that they made him stronger than he ever was.
Her hand traversed to a thin line on his abs. "Talking back," was his short response.
A starfish-shaped wound on his shoulder. "Shot during a job a few weeks before I met you."
"Here?" A faded, small nick on his stubbled jawline.
"Uhm, that's not really important…" Michael said hastily.
She kept her finger firmly in place. "It can't be that bad," she pouted.
"Ah...fine. When I shaved for the first time, I cut myself," he finally admitted, staring at the ceiling.
"Seriously?" she giggled slightly at the image of a teenage Michael shaving unsuccessfully for the first time.
The sheepish expression on his face told her everything. "I was young!" was his attempt to defend himself.
"Okay...how about this one?" she asked, gently touching a large, silvery scar on his side. The moonlight had it illuminated in such a prominent way that made it almost impossible for her to ignore.
Michael glanced down, the embarrassment on his face quickly gone, replaced by a dark, grim expression. "Oh, uh…trust me, you don't need to know," he replied quickly, looking away.
"I probably don't...but it doesn't mean I don't care to," Amanda whispered, her thumb running back and forth over the mark.
"I…" he trailed off, scratching his jaw with a sigh. "I don't know what that was for. He was just drunk and pissed off."
Michael finally looked back at Amanda when he realized her fingers had stopped moving, only to see that she was silently crying. "I'm sorry...it's just…" she tried to speak through her tears.
"Amanda, darling, look at me," he said before giving her a gentle kiss. "He can't hurt me anymore."
"But he did, Michael!" she furiously wiped away her tears. "What kind of parent beats and abandons their only child?"
"The kind that drinks about a case of beer a day," he muttered under his breath, a bitter laugh escaping his lips.
His response didn't seem to help as she seemed to be even more hysteric. "What if we end up as bad as that? Or...what if you die during a job and I have to raise our kid on my own? I can't do that, Michael...I can't!"
"I'm scared of that, too. But you wanna know how I see it?" Michael asked, to which she nodded yes.
"Alright, c'mere," he put his shirt back on before he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer to him. "The way I see it is our parents were so bad because they probably had shitty parents before them and their parents did before them. It's a vicious fuckin' cycle, but you and I are gonna be the ones to break that, Mandy. We're gonna be the best parents ever, you'll see."
"You're sure?" she stared at him with a hopeful glint in her eyes.
"Yes, I am. I love you, baby. I have no idea how but we're gonna make this work," he said insistently.
"I love you too, Michael Townley," she smiled tiredly, pleasantly surprised by her husband's wisdom.
"Hey...and don't you ever worry about that other thing, okay? I promise I'll come back to you every single time," Michael reassured her, gripping her hand tight.
"Really?" she questioned with a soft smile.
"Forever," he breathed out tiredly as he held her near, comforted by her presence.
She smiled, his answer pleasing her. However, that didn't mean she couldn't have a little fun with him. "And a day?" she purred as she straddled him, resting her hands on his chest.
"And a day," he echoed confidently, his hands settling on her waist.
With a satisfied smirk, she kissed him gently, her fingers tangling in his hair. He pulled her closer as he kissed back, reveling in the comforting way her weight rested against him. It was a lot different than their usual lust filled, almost animalistic kisses, being more gentle and loving. It felt...really good, actually. Michael drew back, breathing heavily. He stared in wonderment at his wife, struck by the way the moonlight shined on her soft, pale features and made her beautiful eyes bluer than ever. All good things had to come to an end though. "Much as I'd love to make out all night, I think we better get some sleep," he said with a yawn as he guided her to lie back down.
"Fine…goodnight, Michael," she murmured as she cuddled close to him and shut her eyes.
"Goodnight, my darling," he mumbled, wrapping a muscular arm around her midsection.
They both fell asleep quickly, their fears gone, replaced by the hope that everything would turn out okay for them in the end.