Struggling in vain, Mike tried to resist his desire to ask Fritz questions. His own emotions mixed with his curiosity, and he sighed, closing his book as he tried to think how to solve his dilemma. As angry as he was at Fritz, he was definitely in it for the long run. Ignoring Fritz wouldn't make him go away.
'When you're done playing the high ground, I'm right here you know.' Surprisingly, there was some irritation in Fritz's voice-thoughts, and Mike blinked as he considered it. How did one think in a voice pattern? Shaking his head, he focused instead on what he should ask. Leaning back on the chair, he looked to the ceiling.
'Were you in control when I came to, or was that the actions of your childhood self?' The main reason Mike was asking this was if Fritz had been in control, he might have set something up that would make Mike lose the bet. Tapping his foot, Mike found himself getting twitchy again, and decided to look around for drawing materials. His scattered memories told him Fritz liked to draw.
'Oh, that was my childhood self. I'd often sneak out to catch animals. It was quite thrilling and satisfying to find one caught in my trap.' The smug amusement grated against Mike, and he forced himself to shrug it off. The past wasn't something he could change. Well, Fritz's past before this point.
'Is there anything else I should be aware of? What are your parents like?' Finding the items he needed in his room, Mike began to draw animals. Surprisingly, Fritz's hand moved mostly on it's own. Which was good considering Mike was nowhere near that great an artist. Mike's brother on the other hand…
'Oh, you'll find out. They should be arriving home in roughly a minute.' Glancing to the clock, Mike watched as it clicked over to the next minute, and the sound came from the window. Standing up, Mike saw a car had pull up. A second pulled up beside it, and Mike breathed in. If he didn't want to raise suspicions, he'd have to rely on memories to tell him how to act.
As Fritz sent him memories, Mike got a good grasp of the personality. Curious, Daddy's boy, desire to be the leader when with other kids, he shuddered once. Mike didn't entirely like some aspects of the personality, but with luck; they would see his change as puberty or something. Breathing in, he opened his door, heading down to greet his parents.
"Bloody hippies, I don't understand why you support them Linda." The father was a well dressed man in his 20's. Mike could tell he was a businessman. The mother had seemingly come back from some sort of outing, dressed in fancy clothes.
"Robert, we've been over this! They're a movement for change, good change. You know Alan works hard at his job. I wish you wouldn't call them hippies." Slapping her bag on the table, Linda glared at Robert. Glancing between them, Mike sensed some sort of storm rising, and paused at the bottom of the stairs. They barely even noticed him.
"I bet that isn't the only thing he works hard on." Glaring at Linda, Robert took off his tie, putting his briefcase down as well. Linda stepped forward, eyes narrowing.
"Excuse me?" Those very words made Mike turn and head back upstairs. Even with his memories faint from when his parents had looked after them, he knew the signs of an argument. As the voices got louder, he closed his door with a silent click, and returned to his drawing. Mike sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.
'Well, it doesn't get any worse than this for parents.' Hearing his thoughts, he scolded himself for thinking them, knowing karma might go out of it's way to prove him wrong. Almost as if to confirm that, Fritz seemed almost morbid as he responded.
'It does Mike. It get's far, far worse.' The words chilled Mike, and he shuddered. The voices rose, and the sound of smashing came from his window. Closing it, he forced himself to focus on drawing. There would be a time to face the parents. Now was not it, not by a long shot. Silently, he wondered if the reason they both worked was to stay away from the other.
Screams of fear began to come from below, and Mike gulped. Slowly, he stood up, and crept toward the stairs. Fritz was deadly silent, and that alone should have been a warning sign. But Mike continued down, and when he was able to look into the living room, he breathed in sharply.
'This was the day I learned what power my father had over my mother, simply because he was strong enough to hold her down and tear her clothes off.' Fritz seemed to be faint, as if he was turning away himself. Mike took a step back, making a sound that alerted Robert. He turned, and glared at Mike. Grabbing what looked like a stone bust, he threw it at Mike.
Mike tried to dodge, but was not fast enough, and found himself knocked out.