The Villain and the Victim

The Villain and the Victim: Chapter Three

Chapter Three! Oh and btw I hope that I don't offend anyone in this chapter... or throughtout the rest of the book. I'm considered sometimes an emo person myself and all of this is purely fiction... although some of it is from things i have witnessed... but sorry in advance :)

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Chapter Three

The Victim

I walk downstairs to face my parents during the routine family dinner that's purpose is to be my hell after hell with my mom badgering me with questions about school and non-existent friends and  my dad staring at me with a disgusted look on his face. I take my time walking into the kitchen where my mom in cheerfully talking to my father who is sitting in his seat typing away on his laptop, not listening to one word she is saying.

            My parents have a strange relationship to say in the least. My mom is one of those people who always have to be happy. Like she would slap on a big smile and talk in a ridiculously cheery voice even if there were aliens taking over the entire human race and we had a about a day before the entire world was blasted into smithereens. However, my dad is one of those guys who pretty much shows no emotion at all. He constantly has this angry and intense look on his face that it pretty much glued on with superglue. He never cries, laughs, smiles, or shows any other type of emotion other than being angry. Especially around me. My dad and I do not get along at all. He is a big guy and really into sports and being manly; whereas, I'm the complete opposite. I hate sports and am not considered manly to him because I do girly things like sing, straighten my hair, have piercings, and sometimes wear the occasional guyliner. Personally, I think I'm pretty manly, but my dad just doesn't get it and calls me a homo and a f*g and any other offensive name under the sun, which just adds to the many sh*tty things in my rather sh*tty life.

            I open the cabinet and get out three plates. My mom shoots me a thankful look and continues stirring the rice. She thinks I'm helping her because I'm a nice kid, but the real reason I'm doing it is because I want to stay as far away from my dad as possible. He scares the living sh*t out of me, but I try my hardest no to show it. If I did it would just prove to him that I wasn't manly at all.

            I place the plates on the table, moving over the empty seats where my two sisters used to sit at before they left for college, leaving me to have to deal with both overprotective, overbearing, judgmental parents breathing down my neck. When they were still here and not in college yet, my two sisters sort of led the conversation from me when things were getting heated between me and my parents because they actually understood me and felt bad. Without them it's all me twenty four seven. It's extremely annoying since I have to make stuff up and lie just to keep my parents happy.

            I sit down in my seat next to my mom and play with the fork that I had set down for every one after the plates. I make sure not to look at my dad, hoping that maybe he'll get the point that I DO NOT WANT TO TALK. But, I know the wish is too much to ask for because he shuts his laptop and I feel his cold, hard eyes looking at me. "So how was your first day, son?"

            I continued to play with my fork, but say, "It went really well. I have some pretty good teachers and I don't think that I'll have to catch up on anything. This school is pretty much at the same level as Henderson was." I purposely don't say anything about the people or if I made any friends.

            "Good. You'll be able to keep up with you're A's then," my dad says in his stern, no nonsense voice.

            "Yeah." I stop fiddling with my fork and place my hands in my lap.