I Will Not Kiss You
Chapter 4
“Honestly,” Dad sighed “Sometimes I wonder what I’m gonna’ do with you Frank.”
I knew he was annoyed because of the way he sighed and was stood up. When she was leaving, Nadine tried to give me a hug and I pushed her away from me. She’d stumbled and almost fallen over. Dad wasn’t very pleased with me after that.
“It was an accident,” I said from the sofa “I didn’t mean to push her so hard, I just didn’t want her to touch me!”
“Couldn’t you have let her touch you just the once?”
“No! It hurts!” I replied.
“What if she’d told you? It only hurts if they don’t tell you they’re gonna’ do it, right?”
“Or if they’re a stranger! And she didn’t tell me she was gonna’ do it.”
Dad banged his fist down on the coffee table, making me jump. I felt scared. So I stood up and walked into my room, shutting the door behind me. He didn’t follow me. He just left me. I knew that Dad was angry and that made me sad because it’s my fault he’s angry. It’s bad to make people sad or angry because that means you’re a bad person and I don’t wanna’ be a bad person. Mom said people don’t like me when I’m a bad person; they only like me if I’m good and are nice to them and treat them how I’d like to be treated. This confuses me because I’d like to be treated with respect and like a human being; but I don’t want to be treated like any other person because I’m not like every other person. Any other person wouldn’t mind you suddenly putting your hand on their shoulder to comfort them when they’re sad. I would. Any other person wouldn’t mind you hugging them when they’ve done well at something. I would. And this is why I’m not like every other person…
…Dad knocked on my door at about 10:18 pm. I was reading my very old copy of ‘Lord of the rings: The fellowship of the ring’ because I like reading and it’s a challenging book, which I like. It’s easy to read now but it was harder when I was younger. I put my book aside and said ‘Come in’. Dad poked his head round the door before walking in fully. He had a hot chocolate for me. A really big one in the posh glass with lots of squirty cream and chocolate sprinkles. Dad only makes them for me when he’s in a really good mood or when we’ve had a fight and he wants to say sorry. I find it hard to say sorry to people or to accept apologies. That’s because I still remember what happened; even when we agree to forget about it.
“That’s for you.” He said, putting it on my bedside cabinet.
“Thank you.”
He perched on the end of my bed and fiddled with his hands.
“Look Frank,” He began “I’m sorry about earlier; I was a little stressed out.”
And I said “That’s ok.”
And he smiled and said ‘Let’s forget about it eh?’. So I nodded and he held out his hand to me. I slapped my hand against his and he gave me a hug and kissed my head. Then he looked at the time and whispered ‘You better settle down soon’. Dad and Mom don’t really give me a bed time because I can never sleep; but they do make little hints as to when I should get into bed, even if I’m not gonna’ sleep. I’m already in my pyjama’s…well actually it’s my t-shirt and boxer shorts but I’m too old for pyjama’s like little children wear. I have a few sets of pyjama t-shirts and shorts but I hardly ever wear them. Mom bought them when there was a sale after Christmas one year. She’s a real bargain hunter. That means she likes to buy anything that’s a good bargain. She’d probably buy a set of dental tools if it was a good price.
“Night.” Dad muttered, waving his fingers as he shut the door.
Once he was gone, I clambered under my covers, drank some of the hot chocolate and got my book again. I’m only on the part where the hobbits have met Aragon at The Prancing Pony and Frodo is singing but I’ll get further soon…
…At about 3:34 am. I’d finished my book and read a quarter of ‘The two towers’. I was getting bored so I looked out my window. It was a clear sky and I could see the full-moon and all the stars. It looked nice and I decided I wanted to go outside. So I got outta’ bed and pulled my jeans over my legs so that I wouldn’t get cold because it gets cold at night in September. I pattered quietly through the silent apartment, stopping to stuff my feet into a pair of vans and then continuing out the door. I made sure I had my key before I let the door shut because I forgot it once when I was little and I got locked outside.
It was cold outside. But it was nice. There was no one outside and I like that. I can walk around and pretend that no one else exists. I looked up at the stars, watching them shining their light throughout the inky sky. They’re beautiful. I love it when I come outside at night and I can see all the stars. It’s beautiful. I began to walk down the street, not breaking my gaze from the sky. I’d like to paint the stars. I know that sounds stupid but I can’t help what I want. If I painted the stars against the night-time sky; that’s something I could be proud of. It would be my masterpiece; just like all the other artists have their masterpieces. That would be mine. Something I’d be proud of and that would make me happy every time I look at it.
“Frank?”
I turned towards my father’s voice to see him running down the street after me, wearing a dark blue dressing gown and a pair of brown slippers. He gripped my shoulders tight and shook me. It hurt so I tried to wrench my shoulders free but he didn’t relent.
“Get off, get off, get off!”
He kept a hold of me as if he thought I would make a run for it as soon as he let me go. It still hurt.
“What have I told you about doing this?” He demanded.
I didn’t answer because I was too busy trying to free myself from his grip. He still wouldn’t let go and I was getting very frightened. I whimpered and pleaded with him but he still didn’t release me from his painful grip and, before I could stop myself, I was screaming and hitting at him. My legs buckled beneath me and I fell down because Dad let me go as soon as I hit at him. And I screamed and screamed and screamed. And I couldn’t stop. I was too scared. Dad knelt beside me and tried talking to me but I could barely hear him above my screaming. Lights began flicking on in all the windows as people leant out their windows to see who was being murdered. Then they started shouting which scared me even more and I began banging my head against the concrete pavement. There were people crowding around me to try and see what was happening. Dad started shouting at them, telling them not to crowd me because I was scared. Someone took my arm and tried to restrict my movements. I wriggled and writhed away from their grip, screaming even louder…
Then there were sirens and flashing lights. It was all really frightening. Dad was being shoved aside and strangers were crowding around me. Both my arms were gripped tight, making it hurt even more. I arched my back and tried to break free, still screaming and banging my head. And then it was black…
Over dramatise much? Comments?
I knew he was annoyed because of the way he sighed and was stood up. When she was leaving, Nadine tried to give me a hug and I pushed her away from me. She’d stumbled and almost fallen over. Dad wasn’t very pleased with me after that.
“It was an accident,” I said from the sofa “I didn’t mean to push her so hard, I just didn’t want her to touch me!”
“Couldn’t you have let her touch you just the once?”
“No! It hurts!” I replied.
“What if she’d told you? It only hurts if they don’t tell you they’re gonna’ do it, right?”
“Or if they’re a stranger! And she didn’t tell me she was gonna’ do it.”
Dad banged his fist down on the coffee table, making me jump. I felt scared. So I stood up and walked into my room, shutting the door behind me. He didn’t follow me. He just left me. I knew that Dad was angry and that made me sad because it’s my fault he’s angry. It’s bad to make people sad or angry because that means you’re a bad person and I don’t wanna’ be a bad person. Mom said people don’t like me when I’m a bad person; they only like me if I’m good and are nice to them and treat them how I’d like to be treated. This confuses me because I’d like to be treated with respect and like a human being; but I don’t want to be treated like any other person because I’m not like every other person. Any other person wouldn’t mind you suddenly putting your hand on their shoulder to comfort them when they’re sad. I would. Any other person wouldn’t mind you hugging them when they’ve done well at something. I would. And this is why I’m not like every other person…
…Dad knocked on my door at about 10:18 pm. I was reading my very old copy of ‘Lord of the rings: The fellowship of the ring’ because I like reading and it’s a challenging book, which I like. It’s easy to read now but it was harder when I was younger. I put my book aside and said ‘Come in’. Dad poked his head round the door before walking in fully. He had a hot chocolate for me. A really big one in the posh glass with lots of squirty cream and chocolate sprinkles. Dad only makes them for me when he’s in a really good mood or when we’ve had a fight and he wants to say sorry. I find it hard to say sorry to people or to accept apologies. That’s because I still remember what happened; even when we agree to forget about it.
“That’s for you.” He said, putting it on my bedside cabinet.
“Thank you.”
He perched on the end of my bed and fiddled with his hands.
“Look Frank,” He began “I’m sorry about earlier; I was a little stressed out.”
And I said “That’s ok.”
And he smiled and said ‘Let’s forget about it eh?’. So I nodded and he held out his hand to me. I slapped my hand against his and he gave me a hug and kissed my head. Then he looked at the time and whispered ‘You better settle down soon’. Dad and Mom don’t really give me a bed time because I can never sleep; but they do make little hints as to when I should get into bed, even if I’m not gonna’ sleep. I’m already in my pyjama’s…well actually it’s my t-shirt and boxer shorts but I’m too old for pyjama’s like little children wear. I have a few sets of pyjama t-shirts and shorts but I hardly ever wear them. Mom bought them when there was a sale after Christmas one year. She’s a real bargain hunter. That means she likes to buy anything that’s a good bargain. She’d probably buy a set of dental tools if it was a good price.
“Night.” Dad muttered, waving his fingers as he shut the door.
Once he was gone, I clambered under my covers, drank some of the hot chocolate and got my book again. I’m only on the part where the hobbits have met Aragon at The Prancing Pony and Frodo is singing but I’ll get further soon…
…At about 3:34 am. I’d finished my book and read a quarter of ‘The two towers’. I was getting bored so I looked out my window. It was a clear sky and I could see the full-moon and all the stars. It looked nice and I decided I wanted to go outside. So I got outta’ bed and pulled my jeans over my legs so that I wouldn’t get cold because it gets cold at night in September. I pattered quietly through the silent apartment, stopping to stuff my feet into a pair of vans and then continuing out the door. I made sure I had my key before I let the door shut because I forgot it once when I was little and I got locked outside.
It was cold outside. But it was nice. There was no one outside and I like that. I can walk around and pretend that no one else exists. I looked up at the stars, watching them shining their light throughout the inky sky. They’re beautiful. I love it when I come outside at night and I can see all the stars. It’s beautiful. I began to walk down the street, not breaking my gaze from the sky. I’d like to paint the stars. I know that sounds stupid but I can’t help what I want. If I painted the stars against the night-time sky; that’s something I could be proud of. It would be my masterpiece; just like all the other artists have their masterpieces. That would be mine. Something I’d be proud of and that would make me happy every time I look at it.
“Frank?”
I turned towards my father’s voice to see him running down the street after me, wearing a dark blue dressing gown and a pair of brown slippers. He gripped my shoulders tight and shook me. It hurt so I tried to wrench my shoulders free but he didn’t relent.
“Get off, get off, get off!”
He kept a hold of me as if he thought I would make a run for it as soon as he let me go. It still hurt.
“What have I told you about doing this?” He demanded.
I didn’t answer because I was too busy trying to free myself from his grip. He still wouldn’t let go and I was getting very frightened. I whimpered and pleaded with him but he still didn’t release me from his painful grip and, before I could stop myself, I was screaming and hitting at him. My legs buckled beneath me and I fell down because Dad let me go as soon as I hit at him. And I screamed and screamed and screamed. And I couldn’t stop. I was too scared. Dad knelt beside me and tried talking to me but I could barely hear him above my screaming. Lights began flicking on in all the windows as people leant out their windows to see who was being murdered. Then they started shouting which scared me even more and I began banging my head against the concrete pavement. There were people crowding around me to try and see what was happening. Dad started shouting at them, telling them not to crowd me because I was scared. Someone took my arm and tried to restrict my movements. I wriggled and writhed away from their grip, screaming even louder…
Then there were sirens and flashing lights. It was all really frightening. Dad was being shoved aside and strangers were crowding around me. Both my arms were gripped tight, making it hurt even more. I arched my back and tried to break free, still screaming and banging my head. And then it was black…
Over dramatise much? Comments?