"Chris hit me! He hit me really hard!" blood streams down his nose, over his cheeks. His brother was his friend, his ally, his confidant. His father stared at him for a moment then frowned in Christian Ward's direction walking casually across the grass, "Chris did you mean to do this?"
"He was being a baby dad."
"Were you Grant?"
"I am a baby!"
"No." His father took him by the shoulders, "Thomas is much smaller then you are. You have to fight your battles little man. The next time your brother hits you you hit back."
"What about my nose?"
"Go get a tissue."
It was the indifference that hurt the most. Indifference that was not applied when he'd kicked his brother in the groin as hard as he could the next day before debating, brick or fists? brick or fists? If you want to survive you've got to hit back
In the end he'd opted for fists and been spanked within an inch of his whole damn life. Ever since the staff. Ever since the staff it all came crawling back and even after his catharsis-
"For godsake Grant I'm sorry, I'm sorry this is not the way to do this
He's annoyed suddenly. Annoyed with this woman who presumes to somehow remind him of his past but he can't damn well move or run or hit her. Well he could but what would she do? Shrink up in the corner just like I did.
His expression softens.]
You realize you probably didn't fail because you still loved him right? You're stupid if you think that's true. You probably failed because you didn't know how.
[She openly admitted she had no experience with real world things, even though his bandage is tight. It'll need stitches but all the same.]
Or you got caught.
[He could be talking about a meal. About where they are. But then his expression darkens.]
It takes a few tries.
[There's a deep breath before he's back on his back.] What'd you try and do to him if you don't mind my asking?
no subject
"Christian! Grant! Come wash up for dinner!"
"Chris hit me! He hit me really hard!" blood streams down his nose, over his cheeks. His brother was his friend, his ally, his confidant. His father stared at him for a moment then frowned in Christian Ward's direction walking casually across the grass, "Chris did you mean to do this?"
"He was being a baby dad."
"Were you Grant?"
"I am a baby!"
"No." His father took him by the shoulders, "Thomas is much smaller then you are. You have to fight your battles little man. The next time your brother hits you you hit back."
"What about my nose?"
"Go get a tissue."
It was the indifference that hurt the most. Indifference that was not applied when he'd kicked his brother in the groin as hard as he could the next day before debating, brick or fists? brick or fists? If you want to survive you've got to hit back
In the end he'd opted for fists and been spanked within an inch of his whole damn life. Ever since the staff. Ever since the staff it all came crawling back and even after his catharsis-
"For godsake Grant I'm sorry, I'm sorry this is not the way to do this
He's annoyed suddenly. Annoyed with this woman who presumes to somehow remind him of his past but he can't damn well move or run or hit her. Well he could but what would she do? Shrink up in the corner just like I did.
His expression softens.]
You realize you probably didn't fail because you still loved him right? You're stupid if you think that's true. You probably failed because you didn't know how.
[She openly admitted she had no experience with real world things, even though his bandage is tight. It'll need stitches but all the same.]
Or you got caught.
[He could be talking about a meal. About where they are. But then his expression darkens.]
It takes a few tries.
[There's a deep breath before he's back on his back.] What'd you try and do to him if you don't mind my asking?