Date: Tue, 22 Apr 2003 18:23:15 -0400 From: Jeff Wilson Subject: W.A.R. III Chapter 9 (Revised) I'd like to thank everyone who wrote last week for your concern. What a shocking turn of real life events. Part Three is nearing it's conclusion, and things are beginning to self-destruct. Things are going to get shaken up, and no one is safe. And it's all brought about by the characters' own actions. Warning: This chapter contains violence and adult language. You're reading it with that knowledge. W.A.R. Part Three - Self Destructive Tendencies Chapter Nine: The Prisoner by Jeff Wilson I was pretty mad for the rest of the evening. Mom was being such a bitch and my toe hurt from kicking my door. I wanted to get some ice or something for it, but I didn't want to get her the satisfaction of knowing that I'd hurt myself being angry. I was just hoping that dad would come home soon and talk some sense into her. I mean, my dad uses those words all the time. Surely he would understand. After the time we'd spent together on Saturdays for the last month, I felt closer to him than ever. At last, I heard the familiar sound of his truck pulling into the driveway. I heard the door and waited. I knew that mom was telling him her side of the story, actually Mrs. Patrick's side. I couldn't wait to tell him mine. It was too nice of a week in May to be grounded. But the worst part would be not being able to see Brett except in school. Finally there was a knock at my door. I opened it up, expecting to see my dad, but it was mom. "What do you want?" I said angrily. "Come down to the kitchen and eat. Your father wants to talk to you." She said. She didn't sound too happy. My dad must have talked some sense into her. I slowly walked down the hall and into the kitchen, where my dad was already eating. There was an empty plate for me. In our house, you help yourself. I got myself some kind of hamburger helper creation and sat down at my side of the table, on my dad's left side where I always sat. We had long ago adapted to my left-handedness in small ways like that. No one ever sat on my left side, and we never bumped elbows while eating. We ate in silence. I got the feeling that dad wasn't on my side. I kept waiting for him to say something, anything. But he just ate and read the paper. The longer he remained silent, the worse I felt. I ate slowly. For some reason, everything tasted kind of bland. It was hard to swallow. Dad picked away, as was his style. I couldn't bring myself to look at him for long. I looked at the various things in our kitchen. There was the white refrigerator with various family pictures stuck on it. There was also a test that I got an A on stuck there with a magnet. I looked up on the shelf at all of mom's little trinkets. My mom loved to collect things, particularly owl statues. There was an assortment of them on the shelf. The light had been put in by my dad. It hung down from the ceiling and gave the room a warm glow in the evening. Finally, dad looked over at me. He spoke between bites. "So... I hear there was trouble at school today." "Yeah, Jerry Freemont had a seizure or something." I said, hoping to build some sympathy. "No, I wasn't talking about that." He said. Darn! It didn't work! "I was talking about you and Sarah Taylor. God dammit, boy. I thought you were smarter than that." "But you don't understand dad..." "I do understand. She's a bitch. She was born a bitch, and she'll die a bitch. Her mother was a bitch in high school, too." He said. He really did understand! "Yeah! Dad she is really awful..." "But that doesn't excuse what you did." He said, cutting me off. "Huh?" I replied. "But I thought you..." "Boy, you're going to meet your share of assholes in life. You have to learn to get along with them as best you can, and that means watching what you say around them." "Well, don't you see that she's been nasty to me for years?" I protested. "Doesn't matter." He replied. "You have to be above all that. You have to be the bigger person. Boy, I love you. Your mom loves you too. We just want what's best for you. That means teaching you to respect other people, even if they don't respect you." "That's stupid!" I said. "No, that's smart." He said. "You want to be successful in life, you'll treat people with respect, including your mother. That's why we're grounding you for two weeks." "WHAT!?!?" I said. "TWO WEEKS?!? But mom said one week!" "Well, that was before I found out what you said to her. I'm not going to let you talk to your mother like that." "But it's almost time for school to be out! What about baseball? We started practice already! What, am I supposed to miss two weeks of that?" "No, you'll fulfill your obligations to your team mates. Then you'll come straight home." "This is so unfair! All I did is do something you do every day! You're the one that should be grounded!" I was starting to really get angry. "You better go to your room before you do something you'll regret, boy." He said. "I already regret living here." I said as I stormed off to my room. The next day, Saturday, I went to my ball game in the morning. I told Dustin how mean my parents were being to me, and how they weren't going to let me talk to him unless it was at school or baseball. Dustin was not impressed. "Billy, what makes you think you're being treated unfairly? Frankly, I'd have been cracked so hard you'd feel it too if I did what you did." He asked. "Well don't you think they're being stupid? They're punishing me for something that dad does all the time." I said. "Yeah, but your dad doesn't do it in school in front of the teacher." Dustin replied. I got angry with him. "Well if that's the way you feel about it, then screw you." "What?" Dustin asked. "You heard me. Just go and get beat up by your sister and go cry up in the woods like you always do." I said angrily. Dustin squinted at me. "You're a real asshole, Billy." I would have responded to that, but he got called up to bat. I sat there simmering. But at the same time, I reflected on what I'd done. Really, I had no business saying the things I said to him, and I felt sorry that I said them. But I didn't get a chance to apologize to him because the game ended and my dad grabbed me and took me to the truck as soon as the game ended. Then I had to work with him for the rest of the day. We hardly said two words to each other the whole time and it was one of the most boring days of my life. Life at school wasn't getting any easier either. Jerry was absent the whole next week. We found out more and more about what happened. Apparently, he had taken something after lunch that day and it mixed badly with something he'd taken in the morning. Max was arrested because they traced both drugs back to him. Dustin avoided me most of the week. When he did see me, he didn't talk to me. When I tried to say I was sorry, he walked away. Brett was in different classes from me and I only saw him at lunch. And when we did get together, it was so frustrating because while we could talk, we couldn't really "talk." But we arranged to both go to the rest room in the afternoon at the same time. But even then, it wasn't the same. There was always somebody around, so we couldn't do anything. After school, I had detention for three days, which meant I missed a baseball game and two practices. I would make it to the game on Thursday, but Friday was the only day when we didn't have practices or games. So basically, life pretty much sucked for a week, and there was still another to go. It was all my parents' fault. I wished they'd just leave me alone. What's worse, is that with the nice May weather, Emily Barnhart was beginning to have little pool parties at her house. She invited me, but I couldn't go. I love swimming, so that just made me even more angry. When she scheduled a party for the next Saturday though, I felt pretty safe in accepting her invitation, because my grounding would be over the day before and there was no ball game that day. The only thing I didn't do that I should have was tell my parents about it. But I had barely spoken to them since the whole grounding thing started. I was determined to punish them by not saying anything to them unless I had to. I would show them how upset I was at my unfair treatment by being silent. It didn't seem to be working though, as they pretty much treated me normally. That just made me even more angry. I was being treated unfairly, and no one seemed to care. Finally I just gave up and went along to get along. Mom and dad didn't seem to notice that I had given up, as they treated me the same way. By Friday, I felt pretty much defeated. I hadn't been able to talk to Brett or do anything fun with him for two weeks. I couldn't wait to see him alone. Dustin was still giving me the silent treatment for being mean to him at the baseball game. He didn't even sit next to me at the games anymore, which made them really boring and I wanted to quit. I was frustrated, angry, and sad... Not a good combination for me. At dinner on Friday, I decided to make sure that my punishment was over. "So, it's been two weeks. I'm not grounded anymore, right?" I said. They both looked at me oddly. Then they looked at each other. But they didn't say anything. "Well?" I asked. My mom responded. "Well, we'll have to think about that..." "What!?! What's to think about!?! You said two weeks! I obeyed you for two weeks. You've ruined my life! Dustin hates me now. I haven't seen Brett for two weeks. You won, okay!" "Billy, it's not about winning. It's about treating people with respect." Dad said. "We are still seeing things that we don't approve of." Mom added. "Like what!?!" I asked. "Well, there was last week, when you didn't talk to us all week long. There was what you said to Dustin, which I know all about. I've talked to some of your teachers, who have said that you've really been working below your potential for the last few weeks, even before this happened. Something has changed, boy. Your attitude has been terrible." My dad laid out all of those and I felt myself shrinking as he talked. "Am I grounded anymore, or not?" I asked. "Did you listen to anything your father just said?" asked mom. "Yeah, I just heard him describe every kid in my class. Jeez, what do you want from me? I'm not perfect, I'll admit that, but I'm not the worst kid in my class. I think I've been pretty good. I work hard. I get good grades. And I think I'm usually pretty nice to people. I'm only mean when I'm mad. You talk about respect, but then you don't respect me and you lie about how long you're going to ground me. So am I grounded anymore, or were you lying? Because if not, I need to go to Emily Barnhart's tomorrow for a pool party." I said. "Whoa, whoa... Wait just a minute. First of all, no, you're not grounded anymore. We said two weeks, and we'll stick to what we said. But that doesn't mean you don't have other responsibilities. I still need you to help me with Mr. Nicholson's air conditioning tomorrow." "WHAT!?! But that's not fair!!!" I shouted. "What's not fair about it? It's almost summer. You can go swimming anytime." Dad said. "That's bullshit!" I said, boiling with anger. "What did you say?" My mom asked. "I said that's bullshit, and it is! You guys are so freakin' unfair it's pathetic." "Calm down, boy." Dad said. "NO! I won't freaking calm down! You treat me like I'm eight years old! I'm fourteen-and-a-half! I'm not a little kid and you can't boss me around! I haven't been able to have fun for two weeks and now you're going to keep me from seeing my friends!" "N.. Now hold on there, b...boy!" My dad stammered as he talked. "I knew this was going to happen. I knew you were going to lie! I hate this fucking house! I hate you both!" "N..now we've been more th...than fair, boy." He said. "Bull shit! I can't believe you actually believe that! Give me a break, dad. If you were so fair, you would have let me call Dustin and save my friendship instead of letting him think that I'm a jerk. You would have let me call Brett. And you wouldn't have..." "God dammit would you shut up, boy!" Dad yelled. "No! You shut up! And my name's not Boy! Quit treating me like a baby!" I yelled. "Well then, quit acting like a baby." Dad retorted. "You can go swimming anytime. I need you with me tomorrow." "I hate you! You never listen to me! What are you going to do? Ground me again?" I asked angrily. "You're going to get more than grounded if you don't watch it, boy!" Dad yelled back. "Go ahead! See if I care, asshole!" I yelled. "What did you just say?" My dad asked in a voice that made me realize I had just crossed the line. "Well I..." But the words choked up in my throat. "What did you just call me?" He asked in that same voice. He was scaring me. "I... I..." The words choked up again. Before I could do anything else, dad got up from the table, stood next to me and slapped me hard across the face. I couldn't believe it. He hit me. My dad actually hit me. "George!" My mom said. I sat there holding my hand up to my cheek. I couldn't believe it. My dad hit me. He hit me. "Get the fuck up to your room. I don't even want to look at you right now." He said. I got up and walked to my room, still in shock. When I got to my room, I realized that I was crying. It wasn't from the pain in my cheek, which really hurt. It was something I just couldn't understand. My dad had never, ever hit me. Not even to paddle me. I sat on the bed, holding my cheek and wiping silent tears from my eyes. I could hear mom and dad yelling. "What did you hit him for?!?" My mom yelled. "No son of mine is going to call me an asshole!" He yelled back. "George! That was terrible! Sure I was mad at him, too! But that doesn't give you the right to slap him!" "For God's sake Paula! You want a son who calls people names like that?" "He's emotional, George! He's always been emotional! You know that better than anyone! You're just as responsible as he is for pushing him like that!" "I'm sorry, alright! I'm sorry! You want him to grow up to be a dickhead, go right ahead! That boy has needed a good crack for years! If I had talked to my parents the way he just talked to us, I wouldn't have been able to sit down for a month!" I laid down and covered my head with a pillow, and their argument became muffled. I sat there thinking. My cheek still stung, but I didn't care about that pain anymore. The pain I was feeling was inside me. I felt a knot deep inside my guts. My dad had hit me. And he had hit me hard. I tried to figure out where things went wrong. Why had I said what I said. Boy was I sorry I said it. I heard my dad's truck start, and I heard him drive away. Then I heard my door open. Darn, why hadn't I locked it? "Billy? Are you okay?" "No! Leave me alone!" I sobbed. "Billy... He didn't mean it. You know that he loves you dearly. His heart is breaking at what he did." "Don't talk to me!" I turned my self away from her. I felt her touch my arm and rub it a little. I wanted to tell her not to touch me, but at the same time, I wanted her to do more than touch my arm. I wanted her to hug me and make me feel better. But then, I felt that pain in my guts turn into something different. It was like a burning anger. I couldn't keep it inside. As much as I loved her, suddenly the thought of her touching me disgusted me. "Don't touch me!" I said as I pulled my arm away. "Billy, try to understand..." "Understand what, mom? You want me to understand why I got slapped across the face by my own father? Is that what you want me to understand? Is it?!?!" I rolled out of bed and faced her standing from the other side. "Billy..." She started. "Shut up!" I yelled. "I understand, okay! I understand that I was right! He really is an asshole! What kind of asshole hits his own son? For that matter, what kind of mother lets her son get slapped across the face and just sits there? Get out of my room and leave me the hell alone!" "William Aaron..." "I SAID GET OUT!!!!" I roared. I scowled angrily at her from the safety of the other side of my bed. Slowly, she walked to the doorway. She started to turn back around toward me. I really hoped she'd just leave so I could bawl. "I'll be here if you want to talk." She said calmly. "I forgive you for being angry right now. Frankly, I'm angry, too." And with that she closed the door. I stood there determined. I wasn't going to cry about this. I wasn't! I thought to myself as the tears began rolling down my cheeks. I wasn't going to cry. I laid down on the bed and sobbed until I fell asleep. * That's it for chapter nine. Probably the most emotionally draining and difficult chapter I've had to write since Billy's grandmother's died. I liked the challenge. I like to stretch myself and my characters. I also love to talk about the story, and the best ways to do that are through email, or the niftywriters chat room. You can write to me at : vicioussquirrel@hotmail.com Or you can look for me in niftywriters. Look for v_squirrel, or some variation of squirrel. Or just ask for me. The next three chapters will bring Part Three to its conclusion. They will all take place on the day after this chapter. They are called "Saturday Morning," "Saturday Afternoon," and "Saturday Night." In the next chapter, We'll find out how Billy reacts to having been slapped by his father. Also, somebody's going to have sex. And you'll get to see it! (Unless you're under 18, then I'll cover your eyes.) See you next time.