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She Has A Pretty Face Though (Part XV)

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Disclaimer

The following is one of many installments for a story designed specifically for my blog.  While it does step out of my usual genre, there are some things still not suitable for a younger audience.  Violent/Graphic descriptions, strong language and sexual situations may be found through different sections.  Each entry will tell a small portion of the story during different times and may not directly follow the one prior to it.  

This story follows the direct interactions, as well as the deteriorating thoughts of a young man who is struggling not only with the relationships he has with those around him, but with the relationship he has with himself as well.

Finally, all work is strictly fiction and does not reflect the views of the author.  Any resemblance to actual person(s) is only a coincidence.

If this isn’t your cup of tea, then avoid these excerpts and hopefully I’ll see you around my other posts!

———-

 

Scott stood before the mirror as he worried over every last-minute detail.  He ran a comb through his hair for the umpteenth time as he tried to get his red hair to lay down, but not even the strongest gel was any match for his rowdy locks.  He threw the comb into the sink in frustration and then reached up to loosen the knot of his tie.  It had been a tough decision, to wear his dress shirt and tie, but considering that his nice clothes had been ruined when Tommy hit him with the truck, he didn’t really have a choice.  It was between this or showing up dressed the way he does for school; wearing blue jeans and a tee-shirt.

The knot looked perfect, but it was a little too tight. As he adjusted it, he reflected on how easy it had been to get Megan to help him tie it.

“Hey sis, are you busy,” he had asked as he stood outside her door.  Their new-found relationship was still a bit unusual for him and he didn’t want to enter without either her approval or her permission.

“I’m just getting ready to go out with my girlfriends,” she answered. “Why, what’s up?”

“I was wondering if you knew anything about tying a tie?  Dad never really showed me and I…”

She suddenly opened the door, startling him into forgetting the rest of what he was saying. He had apparently interrupted her as she was changing because when she opened the door, she was only wearing shorts and a sports bra.  She didn’t say anything as she worked and her expert hands had the knot tied in no time.

“Shit!  Where’d you learn to do that?”

“I learned by watching mom tie dad’s for him,” she answered as she turned away.  She walked over to the bed and picked up the white blouse she was going to wear out for the evening.  “That what you’re wearing to your date with Lucy tonight,” she asked as she pulled it over her head.

“Yeah…  My good clothes are ruined,” he said.

Her expression was only of impatience as she reached for her jeans and taking the hint, he turned around so she could finish getting dressed.

“Oh well.  I’m sure she won’t care what you’re wearing anyways.”

He frowned at the memory of what she had said.  It wasn’t that he had been seeking her approval.  In fact, he didn’t recall ever asking for it!  Maybe it had been just his imagination, but it had sounded like her inner bitch was trying to get out.  She hadn’t really said much more to him beyond that.  It had only taken the time he struggled for a response for her to finish getting ready, and by then she was out the door and gone.

Finally happy with his tie, he began to fuss over a pimple that had erupted on his nose.  It was large, red and angry and he knew that if he didn’t at least pop it, it would be the only thing she would see before the lights went out in the theater.

“Well look at you!  I leave you alone for a few minutes and you gay yourself up!”

“Shut the fuck up,” he muttered under his breath.  “I’m not about to be dealing with you tonight.”

“Oh really now?  Like you’re going to have a choice?  You know as well as I do about the power I have over you.”

He struggled with his feelings at that and wondered at just how much of it was true.

“Don’t forget to take out the trash,” it taunted as he was thinking this.

“I thought I told you to shut up.”

The unwelcome guest didn’t answer, and for the moment, he felt that it had gone.  By this time, he’d popped and cleaned the mess from the pimple and was blotting the blood dry when suddenly Tippy began yipping from downstairs.  A quick glance at his watch confirmed there was still a couple of hours before he had to leave, but he still sighed in frustration.

“Damn it,” he yelled.  “Why am I always stuck taking care of their GODDAMN DOG!!”

He turned and slammed the door open, storming through it and toward the stairs.

Tippy, the family’s miniature Maltese, was at the bottom.  She was sitting on her haunches, barking toward him, but as soon as he stepped into view she flew into action.  Jumping to her feet in excitement, he began running in circles, pausing only long enough to watch his thundering approach.  Her need was so urgent that she had no idea that the mood of The Boy had become full of deadly intent.

“It’s NOT my FUCKING job,” he screamed into the air above her head.

He took the steps two at a time as he descended the stairs at breakneck speed.  His vision had focused into a narrow beam, the target of which was the spinning ball of white fur now pawing at the door.

He landed at the bottom of the stairs with enough force that he’d had to crouch to lessen the impact.  His hands had balled into fists at his sides, opening and closing in time with each deep breath.  Tippy was standing on her hind legs, whimpering as she continued to scratch at the door and she wasn’t as concerned so much with his approach as she was with getting to the other side of the door.

“Get back,” he growled to her.

She didn’t listen, or understand, as he closed the distance between them.  It no longer mattered.  He grabbed the door and yanked it with such force that it bowled her over and sucked her hind legs underneath.  There was the sound of two sudden cracks as the bones in each leg broke, and…

…suddenly his head was filled with the sound of an air raid siren, only, that wasn’t right.  He whipped his head once to the right and left as he tried to shake away the feeling of disorientation that had come over him.

“What the hell,” he muttered groggily when the sound didn’t go away.

The voice began to laugh hysterically and it was at that moment when his mind slipped back into place.  His hand was on the doorknob, the door was open about eight inches and Tippy lay on her back, screaming unlike anything he had ever heard before…

She Has A Pretty Face Though (Part XIV)

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Disclaimer

The following is one of many installments for a story designed specifically for my blog.  While it does step out of my usual genre, there are some things still not suitable for a younger audience.  Violent/Graphic descriptions, strong language and sexual situations may be found through different sections.  Each entry will tell a small portion of the story during different times and may not directly follow the one prior to it.  

This story follows the direct interactions, as well as the deteriorating thoughts of a young man who is struggling not only with the relationships he has with those around him, but with the relationship he has with himself as well.

Finally, all work is strictly fiction and does not reflect the views of the author.  Any resemblance to actual person(s) is only a coincidence.

If this isn’t your cup of tea, then avoid these excerpts and hopefully I’ll see you around my other posts!

———-

It had only been a couple of hours since the confrontation in the kitchen.  The unwelcome guest had quickly grown quiet after the front door had slammed and he he had been left mercifully alone.  His head ached in its absence, a dull pounding that made it hard for him to keep his eyes open and for the moment he wasn’t trying to.

Even though she had left for work shortly after the pager summoned her, he’d chosen to remain in his room.  He wrestled with the feelings that had been coming over him, the thoughts he’d been having more and more often, and the voice that seemed to have taken a life of its own.

Up until recently, he had been comfortable with the way he was.  He accepted his rage as an outlet to the cards that life had dealt him.  Whenever confronted with something that he didn’t know how to handle, something that just seemed to push all the right buttons, he ‘slipped’ into himself and succumbed to the fantasies that his mind played out for him.

In the months that passed since his father had ran away, the fantasies had grown into something else.  They had taken a life of their own.  They had grown stronger, crossing the fine line between fantasy and reality and at times he had difficulty determining which side of the line he was on.

Most recently, the fantasy with his sister.

It was the most real, the most involved of the fantasies that he could ever recall.  Usually, they took place in a matter of seconds.  The other night, when he had been taking the trash to the dumpster, he had blacked out for at least an hour.  He still wasn’t sure of how much time had passed, only that it was light when he left the house and then it was dark when he came back to himself.

With that he slammed the fridge door closed.  Her positioning was just right and her legs jumped from the impact. 

He also jumped as the memory came to the front of his thoughts and then moaned miserably.  It was a low, guttural sound, and it bore the turmoil he was feeling from within.

“What’s going on with me,” he lamented from behind his hands.

For the second time since coming to his room, tears began to leak from the corner of his eyes.  They were hot to the touch and they ran thickly down his cheeks, but they didn’t stay for as long as they had the first time.  He was emotionally exhausted.

“Aw, does the little baby need a diaper,” the voice suddenly spoke.

He didn’t answer, but he did grow still just as suddenly as the voice had come forth.  Unlike the other times he had heard it, this time he really listened.  He listened to the sound of it.  It was a little like his, but with the raspy quality of someone who had spent hours cheering on their favorite team.  Furthermore, and he was afraid of this, he didn’t believe that it was coming from around him, but, inside.

“No shit?  Seems like Sherlock finally got a clue,” the voice mocked.

He lifted his face from his hands and rubbed his eyes with the back of his wrists, blinking a few times to help them readjust to the light in his room.  As before, he chose to ignore the taunt.

From downstairs, he could hear the dog yapping from somewhere near the back door.

“Megan,” he called out loud enough to be heard down the hall.  “Could you please take care of Tippy?”

“I’m in the bathroom Scott, sorry.  You’re going to have to get her this time.”

He sighed and looked over at the clock.  It was still early, and there was still plenty of time for him to shower for the movie, but he still felt it to be unfair that he was constantly stuck with caring for her all the time.

“…not that I wanted the fucking thing anyways,” he muttered.

His vision wavered just a bit from the pressure of his headache, and as he stood to go downstairs, the voice began to laugh.  It was the soft sound of someone who was genuinely amused by something, but it bothered him nonetheless, and before he could say anything, it spoke once again.

“You might as well get used to this.  I’m here for the long haul Scott.”

She Has A Pretty Face Though (Part XIII)

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Disclaimer

The following is one of many installments for a story designed specifically for my blog.  While it does step out of my usual genre, there are some things still not suitable for a younger audience.  Violent/Graphic descriptions, strong language and sexual situations may be found through different sections.  Each entry will tell a small portion of the story during different times and may not directly follow the one prior to it.  

This story follows the direct interactions, as well as the deteriorating thoughts of a young man who is struggling not only with the relationships he has with those around him, but with the relationship he has with himself as well.

Finally, all work is strictly fiction and does not reflect the views of the author.  Any resemblance to actual person(s) is only a coincidence.

If this isn’t your cup of tea, then avoid these excerpts and hopefully I’ll see you around my other posts!

———-

“I just don’t know Scott, maybe we should get you to the hospital…”

“I’m FINE mom.  Really.  I think I just worked a little too hard is all.”

He sat on the edge of his chair at the dinner table, hunched over, with his head between his legs.  He ached from the inside out and wanted nothing more than to be left alone.  Across the table, his mom let out an exasperated sigh.

“You’re NOT fine Scott.  You haven’t been acting like yourself for weeks, you’re having headaches almost every day and now this?  What is going on with you?”

The question hung in the air importantly, demanding an answer he didn’t have, and when she realized that it wouldn’t be forthcoming she threw her hands into the air and turned toward the kitchen window.

“I know things have been tough since your father left…”

“You don’t know anything.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said; You. Don’t. Know. Anything!  Did you hear me that time?”

“I think you better watch your tone, mister.  I’m still your mother and you WILL respect me!”

“Go on, tell her.”

He sat up very slowly, partially because he wasn’t sure of what would happen, but mostly because he wanted the dramatic effect it would have.  He was angry.  His heart ached for a time when his family was whole, but was heavier still knowing that it would never be so, again.

“He left because you drove him away,” he said quietly.  His voice was almost inaudible and if it wasn’t for the shock that was beginning to register on her face, he would have thought that she hadn’t heard her.

“A good start, but you can do better.”

“You care more about your work than you do for us.”

“How…how can you say that,” she gasped.

“Simple.  For years you’ve only spoken of false promises, filling our heads with vacations that would never come to be.  We would tell you about how much we missed you and then you would say you would take us to the park or something to make up for the missed dinners, birthday parties, or whatever.”

“Scott, that’s not fair,” she said weakly.

“No?  And what do you call what you did to us?”  He paused long enough to take a breath.    “So, how can I say that you drove him away?  If you were so goddamn busy that you couldn’t spend any of your free time being a mother, then how the HELL could you even be a good wife?”

“That’s enough,” she finally erupted.  Tears were streaming down her cheeks, pouring from eyes now filled with pain and anguish.

“Everything I have done has been for this family and you know it!”

“Oh really,” he asked mockingly.

“You’re damn right, mister, and you have some NERVE talking to ME that way.”

“Good.  Now you have her right where I want her.”

“You have some nerve calling this,” he gestured wildly, “a family,”  He spoke through his teeth, and as he did he placed both hands on the table and pushed himself to a standing position.

“Just where do you think you’re going?”

“We’re done here.  I have somewhere to be tonight.”

“We’re not done until I say we’re done!”

“Oh yeah,” he asked.  His voice rose, drawing the word out at the end.

“Sit your ass-”

At that moment, however, her pager began to buzz on the table and both turned to watch as it moved a little from the vibration.  She slowly reached for it, both of them knowing that the number on its screen was from her work, and when she looked up he was gone.  His footsteps echoed through the house as he ascended the stairs two at a time.  When he got to his room, he closed the door and leaned his head against it, gasping through tears of his own.

“Oh god, don’t be a pussy Scott.  She had it coming.”

“…shut up,” he answered weakly.