Saturday
He dashes to his room as fast as he can, uncaring of the living room, or any room really, for that matter. He needs to be fast about all of this because he's not sure just how much time he has to do this. Whether it's five minutes or twenty-five minutes, he needs to hurry. He turns right, into the small hall before turning left into his room. It's exactly as he left it on Friday. Clothes askew, blankets halfway across the room. He's gonna miss it like crazy. He doesn't know if he's ever going to come back, but he really doubts it.
He rips through his room, grabbing things left and right. He's rushing to get everything and anything he needs. He's lost count of the shirts, the pants, and the boxers, even the occasional pair of socks that he manages to come across. He pulls a box out that's tucked into a corner under a pile of old magazines and some discarded pieces of clothing. It's not much, but it's something. He rips the lid off, pulling the small wad of cash out and shoving it into his back pocket. His heart is pounding in his chest and there's thin sheet of sweat pooling in his hairline. It's hot, but he manages to get the necessities packed into a single backpack. His bass is locked up tight in its hard case, sitting in the corner of his room. He grabs it, holding tight to both.
On silent toes he creeps out of his room and practically crawls to the door. He didn't notice before because he was too busy trying to get to his room. But his dad is snoring like a motherfucker on the couch, beer bottles and cigarette butts littered all over the floor around him. It's a disgusting sight, but Tommy doesn't look. But it would be so easy to just take one of those bottles and smash it on his dad's head. He could take the jagged edges and put an end to all this misery. No one would miss his father. And maybe, just maybe, the judge would let him off the hook or at least on a light sentence because of good duty.
No, he can't think like that now. Homicidal thoughts can be dwelled upon later, he decides. He puts everything onto the porch. He looks at Monte, motioning to the items. The older man nods from the car, getting out. He's going to grab Tommy's things for him. Before stepping back into the house, he sets the door ajar just enough for his quick get-a-way. He needs to tell Allison before he goes.
He's learned well from the past, and Tommy's sneaky like a ninja as he creeps back through the living room, passing through the dining room and into the kitchen, heading towards his parent's bedroom. He can see Allison lying in bed. He can see her brilliant blonde hair fanning around her head like a golden halo. He feels really bad about leaving her, but he has to do it. He promises himself that he'll come back for her though. He's not going to abandon her completely. He just can't do that to her.
He slips into the darkness of the room, crossing to the bed and his hand rests itself upon her shoulder. Her eyes open instantly, focusing on him, and she gasps. She leaps from her resting, and throws her arms around him, her legs still tucked under the covers. Tommy's arms wrap around his mother and he buries his face into the crook of her neck, his fingers running through her hair. She's shaking, holding back sobs, and he can hear his heart breaking in two. She thought he wouldn't come back. But all the same, she's telling him he needs to go.
"Mom, Mom listen to me…" He gets her to calm down for just a moment. His thoughts are all over the place. He needs to go, but he can't leave her here. "Mom, please…" He's going to tell her about Adam, about his beautiful angel.
"Mom… someone knows. I'm staying with him, I'm safe. I'm going to get you out of this, okay? Just give me a day or so, okay, Mom?" She nods once, tears streaming her face. He kisses her forehead gently. She's shaking and her skin is burning to the touch. He's certain she has a fever.
"Who? Who, Tommy?" She asks him, and his heart is pounding in his chest, a lump rising in his throat as he glances to the bedroom doorway. Nothing. He has to go soon, but he wants to fill her in as much as he can before he disappears again… No. If he's going to disappear, she's coming with him.
"Adam. Adam Lambert. He used to live next door to us with his parents, but he's living with another friend of ours. Please, Mom, come with me. Pack a bag and come with me." He says, running his fingers through her hair, his hands shaky. He's desperate to get her out of here. She's the only family he has that he loves dearly. She's the only one he would die for, aside from Adam. She smiles sadly, but she shakes her head. Tommy whimpers, biting down on his bottom lip to keep from making any more noise.
"Why, Mom?" She looks up at him, her eyes swimming with grief. Her hands trembling on his shoulders, her bottom lip quivering. She's on the verge of tears.
"I… I can't move, Tommy… I can't move my legs." She tells him, and his confusion and his sadness melts into nothing but pure rage. His dad… He didn't. He couldn't have. Tommy will kill him for sure if he did. But the look on Allison's face says it all, and he feels himself shaking from head to toe, even if only slightly. He's going to kill Richard. He's going to kill that motherfucking bastard…
"He broke them, Tommy." She explains, and Tommy hisses angrily, clenching his jaw so tightly he's almost certain his teeth are cracking from the stress. That fucker! He's shaking, but he doesn't want to hurt his mother. He takes long, deep breaths, closing his eyes for a moment. He centers himself again. He's okay. But he has a different approach. A different plan. He can't fail.
"I'll come back for you. I'll come when he's not here, and I'll get you out of here." He says, his heart is racing in his chest as the rage turns into something a little more positive. He's finally getting free. And he's going to get his mother out too. Even if it's the last thing that he ever does.
"No, Tommy. Just go. Don't worry about me, I'll be fine." She tells him, her green eyes determined. He shakes his head.
"Mom, I'm getting you out of here, simple as that!" Tommy says, ripping the blankets off of her. Her legs are a dark purple, and he kind of wants to vomit. He's so going to fucking kill Richard for this once he gets the chance. He's not going to let that monster get away with this. No more. Just… no.
"Tommy, you have to go. He could wake up at any moment!" She's begging him at this point, but he's not going to hear any of it. He's shaking his head. He's not going to leave her. He won't do it. He made that mistake once, and look at what happened to her. He left her and now she can't walk. He's never going to forgive himself for that. Never.
"I'm not going to leave you here with that monster!" He practically shouts at her, his voice angered and pained, and a tear rolls down the side of his face as he stares at her. Allison's eyes shift from his and they widen, and Tommy feels the familiar meaty hands on his shoulders, pulling him away and throwing him across the room. He crashes into the floor, groaning in pain as he struggles to get to his hands and knees at the very least. Allison's crying; he can hear her over the dull thumping of his blood in his ears.
"So, I'm a monster, eh?" Richard hisses into the shell of his ear, and Tommy curls his fist, turning and swinging, his knuckles colliding against his father's nose. Richard howls, his fist slamming into the side of Tommy's head, the force knocking the blond off of his feet, his head hitting the wall. Spots dance into his vision and he goes down again. There's a ringing in his ears and he chokes, gasping as Richard pulls him to his feet and slamming his fist into Tommy's stomach. The blond bend his knee, thrusting it hard into his father's crotch. The older male falls to the floor, clenching himself tightly, his face beet red.
Tommy rushes over to Allison, looping her arm over his shoulders, his arm tucking under her useless legs. He carries her, rushing across the room again. He tries to avoid his father at all costs, but even in his blindly pained state, Richard lunges out and trips Tommy. Swearing, the blond drops his mother, cursing and kicking at Richard again, his shoe colliding with his father's jaw. This is the most he's ever fought back. If he can't make it out, he knows he's not going to see the light of tomorrow.
He grabs his mother again, picking her up bridal style as best as he can and climbing the stairs of the room. She's light, but he's holding her awkwardly, and the world's spinning around him in a frenzy. This isn't cool at all, by the way. Spinning and carrying someone just doesn't mix. He dashes through the utility room, breathing hard and swaying a little. He just needs to get to the porch, and Monte will see them. Monte will come out and help them and he'll be free of this. But he can hear the tornado of his father's rage behind him, and there's glass shattering as if down a tunnel and roaring closer.
"Tommy, just let me go. You need to get out!" Allison's whimpering to him, her voice soft and pleading. But he won't leave her. He's her son. She's the only one who's been there for him through this whole mess. He's not going to leave her.
"No!" Tommy shouts at her, stumbling into the fridge in the kitchen, before rushing out into the dining room. They're almost there, they're almost there. Just a little father. So close, so—
Tommy trips, falling. He turns so that he lands on his back, Allison cradled to his chest. He groans again, letting her roll off of him so he can get up and move again. He starts to sit up when the impact of a broken chair leg lashing across the top of his head sends him down. Allison's screaming, and he feels her being pulled away, but he can't really see her. His vision is fuzzy, and he feels a hand gripping his throat, choking the air out of him. He blindly claws at the hand, feeling the chair leg lashing into his ribs over and over. He can't breathe, and Allison's so far from him. What a failure…
He blacks out visually, his hearing like a distant, muted tunnel. But he feels the beatings stop and hands pulling him out of the house. He's stumbling down the porch steps and across the lawn. He's pushed into a car and he can barely breathe. He's mumbling, wanting to go back. He wants the person driving to turn around, go back, go back, wait… Where's Allison? Is she here? Please, tell me she's here… Someone answers him, but he doesn't know who. No. She's still back at the house. I couldn't save both of you.
Why'd you save me?
Why me? Go back… Go save my mother, not me…
Shut up, Tommy. Just shut up… I'm not leaving you there.
But, my mother! Please…
Adam's going to kill me…