She Has A Pretty Face Though (Part XL)

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 and webseries!

———

He was alone in his thoughts, surrounded by a series of disjointed memories, with no clue as to how he got here.  The other was gone, or at least he couldn’t feel it at the moment, and it was everything he could do to hold onto the small sliver of consciousness that came to him.  He was in pain, more than he had ever known before and his skin felt as if there were millions of insects marching relentlessly over him.

“shh”

The voice came from far away.  It sounded vaguely familiar to him, but for some reason he couldn’t associate a face with it.  It was soothing, and even before it faded away he felt a warm cloth against his forehead.  Until this moment, he felt his body tensing up, ready to rebel against whatever new threat he had to face, but all of this vanished beneath the caring attention he was receiving.

“I’m almost done…”

There was a slight pressure in his lower stomach, followed by the sound of something tearing above him.  It was loud, hollow and he in the sea of memories that still wouldn’t come together, he saw the briefest glimpse of something grey.  After several more small ripping noises, his unknown savior began applying something against the area of his stomach from which the most pain emanated.

“Uhnnn,” he groaned weakly.

“It’s okay buddy.  I’m almost done,” the other whispered.  “But you have to be quiet now.  They’re looking for you.”

“But,” he drawled weakly.  “Why?”

“Don’t you worry about that, my friend.  Just rest.  Just you rest now.”

He fought against it.  He wasn’t ready to return to sleep, but he had absolutely no control over the lethargy which overtook him.  Though his eyes had never truly opened, he ‘closed’ them once more and fell back into the void of his subconsciousness.

…….

 “…ta…ay,…erp…”

He blinked in confusion, trying to sort out the massive influx of images assaulting his eyes.. A familiar voice had just spoken, but it was as out of place as the things around him.  He was in the living room of his house, sitting on the floor before the family television. The sun was shining through the picture window to his right, something that only happened in the late afternoon when the sun was making its slow trek toward the horizon, and there were cartoons dancing on the screen before him.

“I said, get the fuck outta the way, twerp!  I’m trying to change the channel,” Megan screeched from behind him.

He slowly turned, and sure enough, there she sat on couch.  She still wore her cheerleader’s outfit, having most likely gotten home from school herself, with her legs tucked underneath of her and off to the side.  

“Mom said I could watch cartoons after school today,” he whined.

He jumped at the sound of his voice, an action which only enhanced the incredibly pathetic image his whiny voice had just created.  He hadn’t intended to speak, but as he was beginning to realize, he couldn’t have controlled himself if he tried.  He was looking through the portals of his eyes from the prison of his mind, trapped and powerless to affect the younger Scott with his own will.  He couldn’t have spoken if he wanted to, just as he couldn’t have controlled the movement of his younger body.

“Jesus Scott,” the thought venomously, “Why don’t you grow some fucking balls and tell her where she can shove that remote?”

The younger version of himself jumped again, startled by the sound of his voice when it suddenly filled his head.  He looked from one end of the room to the other, frantically searching for the source of this unknown ‘other’. 

“Wha-who,” he started to ask.  His words were violently cut off, however, when something slammed into the side of his face, knocking him to the floor.  Because his thoughts had been preoccupied with the possibility of an intruder, he hadn’t noticed when his sister sprung from the couch and stormed over to him.  He hadn’t seen her hand as it flew through the air, and he didn’t know that even as he was falling from the initial attack, she was kicking him the rest of the way to the floor.

“I SAID, get out of the goddamn way!  GOD!  You can be so worthless sometimes!”

As he watched through the eyes of his younger self, who was now scrambling to his feet and fleeing the room in tears, he began to fantasize of the different ways he wanted her to suffer for what she did.  Before they reached the top of the stairs, the tears and stopped and the young Scott was beginning to share the same smile the older version of himself was also making.

…….

“Wake up.”

The voice of his unknown savior pulled him out of his prison, forcing him to once more return to a reality where there was nothing left for him.  But none of this mattered.  As he slowly opened his eyes, Scott Vali began to smile.

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She Has A Pretty Face Though (Part XXXVI)

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 and webseries!

———

“Billy!  Get the hell in here NOW!”

B.J.’s father was drunk.  He was always drunk, and tonight would be no different.  He had come home from work early with a case of Old Deerwalker, a cheap beer common to the area.  This had been just after sundown and there was now a respectable pyramid of empty cans forming on the coffee table.

“Damn it Robert!  I told you to call me B.J.,” the young man retorted.

This brought on a fit of derisive laughter from the elder Jameson, whom had never approved of nicknames, which lasted until it had stolen his breath.  He was doubled over and gasping for air when B.J. entered the small living room.  His father sat on the only piece of furniture they had, a shit brown recliner which had seen its better share of days.  By the looks of it, its best days were long gone.

“Okay, Bee-Jay,” he slowly enunciated.  “What’s that supposed to stand for; Blow Job?  Are you a faggot, boy?  You been giving that Tommy feller hummers in his truck, have you?”

Robert stood up slowly, grasping onto the arm of the recliner to steady himself as he did and he locked eyes with his son.  His own stared down at the young man with a look of cruel contempt, as if he had already made up his mind to the answer.

“Damn it, do we have to do this tonight,” B.J. questioned in exasperation.

“I ain’t having no queers in my house,” he shouted, spittle flying from his lips with each slurred word.

“I’ve told you that I’m not like that!  I’ve banged my share of girls,” he argued, somewhat lamely.

Robert Peppers wasn’t going to have it, his mind was indeed, already made up.  He led with his right arm, and though he was very intoxicated, his reflexes were still fast enough to catch B.J. off his guard.  His fist connected solidly beneath the left eye socket, turning his son’s head violently to the right and causing it to rebound off of the wall.  It didn’t take more than one punch to get the effect he was looking for, the younger man was already slumping to the floor.

“Goddamn pussy-faggot,” he spat vehemently.  “I’ll show you what hap-”

His words were suddenly halted by a sharp pain in his right side.  At first, it felt like he had been stung by a wasp, and for the second time in several minutes he found himself at a loss for breath.  His eyes widened, however, when the pain suddenly amplified. Whatever had stung him suddenly turned inside of him!  Slowly, he looked down as a bloodied hand yanked a long blade from between his ribs.

“But, you said to leave it in…” a weakened voice protested from beyond his vision.

“We’ll be fine,” the same voice answered, but this time more willfully.  And he wasn’t sure, but he thought he detected a foreign accent to it this time?  He looked up, his intoxicated body turning towards his unknown attacker, but not fast enough.  A line of fire drew itself across his neck, cutting deep enough to several both of his jugular veins. He felt the strength drain from his legs and he watched helplessly as the floor rushed up to greet him.  It was the last thing he ever saw, but not the last thing he heard.

Robert Peppers sped into Hell only minutes before his son, whose death he experienced through his ears as his brain slowly died from oxygen deprivation.

She Has A Pretty Face Though (Part XXI)

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 and webseries!

———

The next morning found him sitting alone at the counter, eating a bowl of cereal.  It was still early and he had classes to attend to, but his thoughts were far away from such things as World History and Discrete Mathematics.

As he lazily swirled his spoon around the bowl, chasing the melting marshmallows into the other flavorless shapes, he reflected on what had happened the night before.

“Scott?”

“Yeah?”

“I really had a good time tonight.”

He turned to look at her for the first time since they got into her car.  She was turned toward him with a smile on her face and when his eyes met hers, she all but beamed at him.  Her smile was infectious.  It didn’t matter to him that there was a small piece of popcorn tangled in her hair.  He didn’t see that her lips glistened from the butter that had coated her previous snack.  At that moment, he felt as if he was falling into her.

He looked up from his cereal as his phone chirruped, notifying him that he had received a text message, but he didn’t immediately pick it up to read it.  If it was who he thought it was from, there were eight other messages just like it waiting to be read.

Still tired, he slowly stood from his seat and carried the bowl over to the sink to rinse. He felt numb.  Try as he might, he couldn’t find the motivation to get this day started. He swam in a sea of apathy, tireless, and there was no land in sight.

As he ran a sponge through the bowl, his eyes wandered through the window and to the backyard.  Near the back, beneath the maple tree, he could just see where a patch of dirt had recently been disturbed.

“Scott?  I didn’t know you were still home,”

He jumped at the sound of her voice.  He hadn’t expected her to be here.

“Jesus Megan, what the fuck?!”

She laughed as she walked past him and to the fridge, leaning over in an all too familiar pose as she searched for something to drink.  He looked over, and for a brief moment he had thought about turning and drop-kicking her in the ass.

“What?  I can’t get something to drink?”

“I…  I thought you were staying the night at your friend’s?”

“Yeah, that didn’t work out.”

She stood and took a long drawl from the carton of orange juice, pausing long enough to take a deep breath before polishing it off.

“Leave some for the rest of us, why don’t ya,” he said with an amused smile on his face.

“Sorry twerp, I need the citrus to wash out the taste of…”  She suddenly ended her thought as she realized who she was talking to.

“Gross,” he said as he put his dishes away.

“How did you ‘big’ date go,” she asked teasingly, quickly changing the subject.

“It was…okay, I guess.  She paid for everything.”

“What?  You made her pay?!”

“No, it wasn’t like that,” he objected angrily.  “She didn’t really give me a choice.  By the time I got there, she had already bought the tickets.  And, when we went inside, she insisted on paying for the snacks as well.”

“Shit, Scott, I forgot about your bike!  How DID you get there, anyways?”

“I ran,” he admitted quietly.

“You…ran?”  She looked up at him with something that was a bit too much like admiration for his comfort.

“Yeah, I ran!  How the fuck else was I supposed to get there?!”

“Okay, okay.  Calm down, bro!  It’s just that…”

“What,” he asked, irritated.

“Well, you know…”

“No, goddamn it, I don’t.  What, Megan?”

She huffed as she shoved away from the counter, quickly returning to her feet.

“You can be so stupid sometimes, you know that?  Just fucking forget it, alright?  Shit!”

She stormed from the room, but he made no move as he listened to her angry retreat. It wasn’t until after he heard her door slam that he walked over and picked up his cell phone and began reviewing the messages.

Hey Scott, it’s must me. Lucy. I wanted to let you know that last night was great. – 4:36am

Hello, thanks again for taking me to the movies!  I enjoyed spending time with you!  Call me when you get this! – 5:11am

I was just thinking about what you shared with me last night.  If you’re a good boy, maybe I’ll share something with you! – 5:27am

I hope you don’t mind me texting you. I couldn’t sleep. I hope you are dreaming about me! – 5:31am

Scott? Are you awake yet?  Text or call me when you get this!  – 5:51am

He scrolled through the remaining messages, passing his eyes over them only briefly before erasing them, all, except for the last.  The last one she had signed ‘Love, Lucy’.

“Love Lucy,” he mouthed incredulously.  What else had happened last night?