Status: Writing a new chapter!
It's Easier to Run
Sarah Yellin'.
Eyes blinked open, searching through the darkness for any sign of light in which to determine the time. The entire room was cast in shadows, making identification of anything difficult save for those items near the dim red glow being cast by the digital clock lying next to the bed. 11:34 PM.
Roxas groaned softly. His mother was surely home, and his father would more than likely have finished his business by then. He yawned and pushed Axel's arm from around his waist, sleepily pulling on Axel's large red hoodie and his checkered vans to accompany his black shorts before standing up fully. Forgetting the fact that Axel had wanted Roxas to wake him up before he left to take care of his mother, the blonde slipped out the bedroom door and downstairs, retrieving the key and opening the door to his family's apartment.
Silence reigned as Roxas sidestepped the creaking floorboards in the entryway, slipping silently toward the living room. He began to get shivers down his spine; it was like he was being watched, but surely he wasn't, was he? He shook his head slightly before continuing onward. That's stupid, he thought to himself. Nobody can get in here without the key, and that was right where it's supposed to be. Only after searching every shadowed area twice at the very least did he realize that his mother wasn't anywhere to be found in the vicinity.
Raising an eyebrow, Roxas turned toward the guest bedroom. His mother always slept there; they never had any visitors, so there would be no reason to keep the room open. He crept over toward the door, never betraying his location with a single sound, and reached toward the handle with a sweaty palm. The worst could be on the other side of that door, and Roxas would be powerless to stop it. He wrenched his eyes shut and opened the door swiftly, peering inside only once he knew it was open enough to see inside.
Only to see his mother sleeping soundly, smiling and seemingly unharmed. Roxas breathed a sigh of relief; apparently his father hadn't been home when she'd arrived. He thanked whatever gods above extensively just before a hand clamped over his mouth, muffling any cries of protest he made as its' partner closed the door quietly.
"You disgusting piece of trash," Roxas heard a voice speak into his ear. "How dare you even attempt to come back into this house after committing such sins?" His eyes widened and he acted on instinct, jabbing his elbow roughly into his assailant's stomach and scampering to the other side of the room. His father wheezed, trying to catch the breath his son had robbed of him.
"You're the trash." Roxas struggled to breathe. "Doing this to your son, your wife, for God's sake! You're one to talk about committing sins!"
A blow like lightning sent Roxas crashing to the floor. "Don't you dare use the Lord's name," the elder warned. "You've forsaken him forever, hell-bound fiend."
"You goddamn hypocritical zealot!" Roxas almost managed to stand before his father's fist came in contact with his stomach, sending him right back down again. "Who are you to judge?" He asked weakly. He never got an answer, only the usual flurry of fists bearing down on him and sending him into near unconsciousness. It's always this way, he thought to himself as he tried to remain quiet. I'll never be able to fight this.
His father sent a kick to his gut, causing Roxas to cough violently and sprinkle bits of blood onto the carpeting. "I only wish I could do the same to your heathen boyfriend." The man spat, leaving the boy on the ground to nurse his wounds as he retrieved a beer from the kitchen and sat in the armchair yet again, clicking the television on with the remote control near his hand.
Roxas laid there, crumpled on the ground, as he attempted to recover as quickly as possible. He knew the blood was trickling from his mouth onto Axel's hoodie, and he would definitely be questioned, yelled at, and fussed over in the morning, more than likely in that order. A fire began to burn deep within his gut. "How could you treat us this way? Your family?" He whispered venomously.
Ignoring his wounds, Roxas rose to his feet shakily. His father had turned on an old-time sitcom and was laughing loudly, all thoughts of his youngest son forgotten. The boy reached for the nearest item to hand, a baseball bat hanging on the wall from some important game that he really didn't care about; his father had bought it when he was in his better mind and still cared about his family. Cloud had still been at home. Roxas couldn't have been more than five years old.
Roxas clutched the item in his hands and drew it back, taking the only useful lesson his father had taught him at an early age and swung, hearing a loud crack as the sturdy wood made contact with the skull in its' path. The man crumpled to the ground wordlessly, no longer laughing obnoxiously at the twice-used jokes coming from the speakers. He held the symbol of his freedom limply in his hands, unable to grip it properly any longer.
"You're never going to treat anyone this way again." Roxas promised, using a dishtowel lying on the counter to clean the bat's handle and hanging the item back on the wall in its' place of honor. "If you do, I'll do it again and again until I make you stop."
No longer bothering to muffle his footsteps, he went to check on his mother. After determining that she was only on sleeping pills and nothing more serious, he said a silent prayer of thanks and left her a note explaining the situation.
Mother, I'm sorry, but you know the situation. He's stealing my soul away, yours too. I had to.
I'm still upstairs. I hope you understand.
He wearily stepped through the door to Axel's apartment upstairs, locking the dead bolt behind him and leaning against it to think for a minute. The man below him would never go to the police about a situation; there was too much to risk if they found out about his tendency to abuse his family. He stumbled toward the couch and finally reached the side table, grabbing his cell phone and texting Cloud to tell him of what had happened.
Brother, he did it again. I stopped him this time, but I can't do it alone anymore. I need you to help. Please, Cloud, he's hurting mom too, don't ever let him do this again.
He turned the ringer to silent so he could sleep and trudged toward bed, barely managing to claw the hoodie and shoes from his body before collapsing in exactly the same spot as before he'd woken.
Axel wrapped the same exact arm around his body, mumbling incoherently as he drew Roxas closer. Roxas smiled sleepily and nestled his head against Axel's chest, thankful for the warmth of the other boy's body as he drifted off into a place where he didn't have to worry about defending his family from itself.
This time I'm gonna make it end.
Roxas groaned softly. His mother was surely home, and his father would more than likely have finished his business by then. He yawned and pushed Axel's arm from around his waist, sleepily pulling on Axel's large red hoodie and his checkered vans to accompany his black shorts before standing up fully. Forgetting the fact that Axel had wanted Roxas to wake him up before he left to take care of his mother, the blonde slipped out the bedroom door and downstairs, retrieving the key and opening the door to his family's apartment.
Silence reigned as Roxas sidestepped the creaking floorboards in the entryway, slipping silently toward the living room. He began to get shivers down his spine; it was like he was being watched, but surely he wasn't, was he? He shook his head slightly before continuing onward. That's stupid, he thought to himself. Nobody can get in here without the key, and that was right where it's supposed to be. Only after searching every shadowed area twice at the very least did he realize that his mother wasn't anywhere to be found in the vicinity.
Raising an eyebrow, Roxas turned toward the guest bedroom. His mother always slept there; they never had any visitors, so there would be no reason to keep the room open. He crept over toward the door, never betraying his location with a single sound, and reached toward the handle with a sweaty palm. The worst could be on the other side of that door, and Roxas would be powerless to stop it. He wrenched his eyes shut and opened the door swiftly, peering inside only once he knew it was open enough to see inside.
Only to see his mother sleeping soundly, smiling and seemingly unharmed. Roxas breathed a sigh of relief; apparently his father hadn't been home when she'd arrived. He thanked whatever gods above extensively just before a hand clamped over his mouth, muffling any cries of protest he made as its' partner closed the door quietly.
"You disgusting piece of trash," Roxas heard a voice speak into his ear. "How dare you even attempt to come back into this house after committing such sins?" His eyes widened and he acted on instinct, jabbing his elbow roughly into his assailant's stomach and scampering to the other side of the room. His father wheezed, trying to catch the breath his son had robbed of him.
"You're the trash." Roxas struggled to breathe. "Doing this to your son, your wife, for God's sake! You're one to talk about committing sins!"
A blow like lightning sent Roxas crashing to the floor. "Don't you dare use the Lord's name," the elder warned. "You've forsaken him forever, hell-bound fiend."
"You goddamn hypocritical zealot!" Roxas almost managed to stand before his father's fist came in contact with his stomach, sending him right back down again. "Who are you to judge?" He asked weakly. He never got an answer, only the usual flurry of fists bearing down on him and sending him into near unconsciousness. It's always this way, he thought to himself as he tried to remain quiet. I'll never be able to fight this.
His father sent a kick to his gut, causing Roxas to cough violently and sprinkle bits of blood onto the carpeting. "I only wish I could do the same to your heathen boyfriend." The man spat, leaving the boy on the ground to nurse his wounds as he retrieved a beer from the kitchen and sat in the armchair yet again, clicking the television on with the remote control near his hand.
Roxas laid there, crumpled on the ground, as he attempted to recover as quickly as possible. He knew the blood was trickling from his mouth onto Axel's hoodie, and he would definitely be questioned, yelled at, and fussed over in the morning, more than likely in that order. A fire began to burn deep within his gut. "How could you treat us this way? Your family?" He whispered venomously.
Ignoring his wounds, Roxas rose to his feet shakily. His father had turned on an old-time sitcom and was laughing loudly, all thoughts of his youngest son forgotten. The boy reached for the nearest item to hand, a baseball bat hanging on the wall from some important game that he really didn't care about; his father had bought it when he was in his better mind and still cared about his family. Cloud had still been at home. Roxas couldn't have been more than five years old.
Roxas clutched the item in his hands and drew it back, taking the only useful lesson his father had taught him at an early age and swung, hearing a loud crack as the sturdy wood made contact with the skull in its' path. The man crumpled to the ground wordlessly, no longer laughing obnoxiously at the twice-used jokes coming from the speakers. He held the symbol of his freedom limply in his hands, unable to grip it properly any longer.
"You're never going to treat anyone this way again." Roxas promised, using a dishtowel lying on the counter to clean the bat's handle and hanging the item back on the wall in its' place of honor. "If you do, I'll do it again and again until I make you stop."
No longer bothering to muffle his footsteps, he went to check on his mother. After determining that she was only on sleeping pills and nothing more serious, he said a silent prayer of thanks and left her a note explaining the situation.
Mother, I'm sorry, but you know the situation. He's stealing my soul away, yours too. I had to.
I'm still upstairs. I hope you understand.
He wearily stepped through the door to Axel's apartment upstairs, locking the dead bolt behind him and leaning against it to think for a minute. The man below him would never go to the police about a situation; there was too much to risk if they found out about his tendency to abuse his family. He stumbled toward the couch and finally reached the side table, grabbing his cell phone and texting Cloud to tell him of what had happened.
Brother, he did it again. I stopped him this time, but I can't do it alone anymore. I need you to help. Please, Cloud, he's hurting mom too, don't ever let him do this again.
He turned the ringer to silent so he could sleep and trudged toward bed, barely managing to claw the hoodie and shoes from his body before collapsing in exactly the same spot as before he'd woken.
Axel wrapped the same exact arm around his body, mumbling incoherently as he drew Roxas closer. Roxas smiled sleepily and nestled his head against Axel's chest, thankful for the warmth of the other boy's body as he drifted off into a place where he didn't have to worry about defending his family from itself.
This time I'm gonna make it end.