A/N: Alright! I finally got the second chapter up! It was a lot more difficult than I expected, but hey! It also wound up a lot longer than I expected, too! So, win/win I guess? hahah! [Special thanks to SodeNoZangetsu for all her help on this chapter!] And, I know you may be angry with me, but…. Norman had a hard life, I'm sorry! It gets… slightly better after this! (maybe…) :)) So, read, enjoy, and review! Please? They make me write faster, I swear :)

CHAPTER TWO : Lullabies

There was a span of time where everything went back to normal. Well, as normal as things could be without his mother. He was going back to school (alone), doing his homework (alone), and playing (alone). His father worked three jobs, now, and Norman only saw him for a short time just before bed. They rarely talked, most of their time together consisted of sitting in the same room while Norman ate dinner, and his father drank himself into a stupor and watched TV. Every once in a while, his father would grumble about money, or work, or in-laws… But most of the time, he talked to himself about Norman's mother. He would talk to her like she was sitting in the room, with unfocused, glassy eyes.

"I- I don't know what I'm doing anymore… I miss you so much. Why did you have to go like that? I can't raise a kid on my own… I still need you… I always needed you." Solitary tears would roll down his cheeks, and Norman would cast his eyes downward and wish there was something he could do.

About two months after the death of Norman's mother, her parents came back by for a "visit." They spent the entire time away from Norman, talking to his father. Norman didn't know what they were talking about, but he knew it was serious because his father always looked mad. His grandfather was more stone-faced than usual, and his grandmother smiled much less. They left a few days later, and Norman's father stopped drinking at night. They still didn't talk, and the silence was even more tense. His father no longer talked to people that weren't there, he didn't talk at all, except to say goodnight to Norman when he put him to bed.

Norman snuggled into his pillow and clutched his stuffed Superman to his chest - he didn't trust or love him that much anymore, but his mother gave it to him for his birthday, and it had become a habit - while his father walked slowly into the bedroom. His eyes were dark and sad, almost on the verge of tears. Norman wondered why, but knew better than to ask. His father lowered himself onto his son's bed, stroking Norman's hair and forcing a smile, "Goodnight, son."

"Daddy, why were Grammy and Pop here?"

"They wanted to talk to me about some of Mommy's stuff. Wanted to make sure you were doing alright. That we were doing alright."

"They didn't even talk to me while they were here! I was hoping Grammy would take me for ice cream like she always does when she comes. I guess she's still too sad about Mommy for ice cream…"

His father was silent for a while, a dead look in his eyes. "Grammy has been going through a lot, just like you and me. We all miss Mommy very much. I'm sure she just forgot to get you your ice cream. But, her and Pop want you to come stay with them for a while, would you want to do that? She could get you some ice cream, then."

"They do?" His father nodded solemnly. "Yay! Will you come get ice cream with us, too? How long are we gonna stay?"

"Norman, I can't come get ice cream with you - I have to stay here."

"Oh." Norman's excitement deflated instantly and was replaced with confusion.

"They would love for you to come up and stay with them for the summer."

"All summer? But what about you?"

"I'll be … here. Working."

"I can't go without you! Mommy never let me go anywhere alone."

His father turned away from Norman's pleading ice blue eyes, so much like his mother's. "You wouldn't be alone. Grammy and Pop are there. You can have Superman with you, too."

"I don't want to go without you." His voice became determined, and his eyes set like stones.

"We'll figure it all out later, it's not important right now. What is important is that you sleep! You have school tomorrow, you know." Norman's father stood and pulled up the comforter on the bed. It settled around Norman's neck, and his father leaned in to kiss his forehead. "Goodnight, Norman."

"'Night, Daddy." He watched his father flick the lights off and shut the door in a confused silence.

His father shut the door with a few tears rolling down his face. "It's for the best…" he mumbled to himself as he walked down the hallway to the bedroom. "It's all for the best."

A lot of time went by with neither of them mentioning that night's conversation to each other. Everything was like it always had been - barely seeing each other, barely talking, barely being a family. Norman wished every night on the big, bright star outside of his window that everything could just go back to the way it used to be, but he knew deep down in his little heart that the changes that had just begun where no where near their end. Even at school - his safe-haven from everything that ever got bad at home - was beginning to change. His favorite fifth grade teacher, Mrs. Farley, had recently been let on maternity leave, and the new teacher was a force to be reckoned with. Her name was Miss Edgewood, tall, whip thin, with a severe black haircut, she was the entire opposite of sweet, plump Mrs. Farley. Mrs. Farley still let the fifth graders have nap-times every once in a while; Miss Edgewood was determined to make them learn all day, every day. It made the other students edgy, and school was not the home-away-from-home that Norman had always known it as.

Walking home from school was a prime example. Dejectedly, Norman would walk the fifteen minutes or so on side streets back to his house, not really wanting to go home, not really wanting to stay at school. The kids from his neighborhood would usually be around him, but they would stick to their own groups, leaving Norman to his peace. But when Mark Scotts was around….

"Hey Norrmmmaaaannn, Norman!" Norman slumped his shoulders and turned his head towards the ground, keeping his feet moving as fast as he could. Mark didn't give up. "Where're your friends, Norman? Hmm? They decide you were too weird for them?" Norman cringed, since he had been forced to quit the soccer team when his mother died and his dad got his new job, none of his old friends hung out with him or came around to his house anymore. "You listening to me, Normie? Huh? Cause I don't like it when I get ignored!" Mark's hand connected with Norman's shoulder and Norman stumbled. Blue eyes flashing, Norman turned on Mark.

"What do you want, Mark?"

"I just wanna know what happened to all your friends? Where'd they go?" Mock compassion oozed from every syllable. "They give up on you?"

"Shut up. You don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, but I do, Normaaan. I know that all your friends left you because they think you're too weird to be around!"

"That's not true!"

"Really? Then why did Sam tell me he thought you were soooooo weird now? Cause he did. Ever since your mom left, you got weird, and so now all your friends are leaving you, too."

"Shut up, Mark!"

"How does it feel, Nooorrmmaann, to know that everyone doesn't like you anymore? Not even your mom could stick around!"

"I mean it, Mark! Shut! Up!"

"You mom thought you were so weird that she just up and left one day, isn't that right, Noormmaaann? She couldn't take you any more! What about your daddy, huh? He left, too? Or was it just your stupid, worthless, mothe-"

Norman snapped. He pounced with full force on the slightly taller, slightly larger boy. Mark, not expecting the attack, fell to the ground in a heap of limbs, the smaller boy on top of him, throwing punches wherever he could land them. Blind with rage, Norman kept on pounding fist to skin, fist to skin, fist to skin. Then, suddenly, Norman was on his back and a bloodied Mark towered over him.

"You little brat!" Blood sprayed onto Norman's face. Mark's knee fell into Norman's stomach and forced the air out of his lungs, doubling the smaller boy over. Mark took the opportunity to begin his own assault to Norman's face, breaking his nose and sending a crimson river aglow between the two. Norman screamed in frustration and pain, making the larger boy pause for just a split second, and Norman used that pause to his advantage. He threw his fist into Mark's eye, his knee into Mark's stomach, and pulled himself off the ground and to his feet. For good measure, Norman threw one last kick to Mark's belly.

Before Mark had a chance to retaliate, or even roar in frustration, Norman's sneakers were pounding the sidewalk, heart racing all the way back to his house. By the time the door was shut and locked behind his back, his head and legs throbbed, and his chest burned. He couldn't feel his nose, much less breathe through it, and somewhere along the way he had begun crying. He dropped his backpack to the ground, swiping at his tears as he made his way into the hall bathroom. Norman's shirt was soaked through with blood on the top half and he quickly peeled it off. He turned the tap to cold and splashed his face, inspecting the damage to his nose. This was not something that he could hide from his father, and he knew that the conversation was not one he wanted to have. Of course, it was an inevitable conversation, and about an hour later, Norman's father returned home.

"So, Norman, I've been thinking - oh, my God!" The older man rushed to his son, taking his head between his hands. "Your nose, Norman! What happened to your nose?"

"I - huh, I…" Norman tried to look at anything other than the concerned, prying eyes of his father.

"Did you fall? Are you hurt anywhere else? Anything broken? What happened, Norman, talk to me!"

"I… I got into…. a … a fight, Dad."

"A fight? What the hell, Norman!"

"I'm sorry, Dad, I didn't mean to. I just - He was talking about Mom, and I - I don't know! I couldn't let him say those things! I'm sorry, Dad. I'm sorry." Against his will, Norman had begun crying again.

"Oh, Norman!" His dad took the little boy into his arms as the boy was wracked with sobs. His hands stroked the boy's hair and rubbed his back as they curled together in the middle of the living room. Slowly, Norman regained control over himself and pushed away from his father's chest, wiping at his eyes and trying to sniffle.

"So, who'd you fight, bud?"

"M-Mark Scotts."

His father laughed lightly at him. "Well, i bet he looks worse off than you. Do you think you can sleep tonight?" Norman nodded. "Alright. We'll take you to the doctor in the morning. He should be able to set your nose back in place, and get you back up and running. Here," a hand extended napkins to the the young boy. "Just keep those on your nose for now. What do you want for dinner, hot dogs?"

"Yeah!" Norman instantly brightened.

The father and son spent that night curled together on the couch, laughing and eating their hot dogs. They fell asleep to a Batman movie, and when Norman's father woke up around midnight to the movie's credits, he shut off the television and carried his injured son up to his bed. He knew, walking back to his own bedroom that this was where everything was going to change. Where everything had to change.

The next morning, the men piled into the car and made a visit to the doctor. Norman's nose was set properly, and bandaged up. His father told him that he didn't need to go back to school that day, and Norman was excited to spend the day away from the questioning eyes of the other students and teachers. He quickly realized, however, that going to school would have been less painful than going home.

When they walked in the door, Norman was greeted by a small squeal from his maternal grandmother. He was taken up into her arms, and squeezed tightly into her chest. "What happened?" She growled.

"He, uh, he got into a fight with another boy." Norman's father scratched the back of his neck agitatedly.

"Why!"

"He said that the other boy was talking about… about his mother." Grammy's arms clenched around Norman's neck tighter. "That's actually the reason I called you all. I think…. I don't think we should wait until the summer."

"Daddy, what are you talking about?" Norman asked around his grandmother's thin form.

"You remember when I was telling you about going to stay with Grammy and Pop for the summer?" Norman slightly nodded. "Well… We think that it would be best for you if… If you go ahead and live with them now."

"What? No!" Norman tore himself away from his grandmother, looking around at the three adults around him. "I'm not leaving you, Dad!"

"Norman, you have to go. This is what is best for you - for all of us."

"No! I won't - I won't leave you!"

His father sighed heavily. "I know it's not what you want right now, Norman, but you'll see. It's what we all need."

"Come on, sweetie, I'll go help you pack you stuff. We'll get what you need for a few days, and we can come back for everything else over the weekend. We've already called the school near our house, they're ready to take you whenever you move up." His grandmother took his hand and began walking upstairs.

Norman jerked his hand from her grasp and bounded to his father, clinging to his leg. "You can't do this! I won't leave you, Daddy! I won't!"

"Son!" His father's voice was deep and commanding. "Go pack your things. I'm not playing. You'll leave with them in the morning. Don't make this harder than it already is." Norman looked up at his father, tears bubbling in his eyes, disbelief evident on his face. "Go pack your stuff, Norman."

His grandmother took his hand again, but before she could lead the way, he bolted up the stairs and into his room, locking the door behind him - he left quick enough to miss the tears rolling down his fathers face. He threw things about his room, creating a huge mess. Eventually, his tears consumed his body, and he fell onto his bed, clutching his stuffed Superman. As Norman's world crumbled around him, he buried his head into his pillow, eyes squeezed shut, and remembered a lullaby his mom used to get him to sleep when he didn't feel well - praying that when the sun rose, it would all be just a terrible, terrible dream.

"Golden slumber kiss your eyes,
Smiles await you when you rise.
Sleep, pretty baby,
Do not cry,
And I'll sing you a lullaby…."