Chapter 2
Barty
“Sit up straight, Bartemius.” Father orders.
“I am.” I say, my mouth still full of food. A look from my mother tells me to do as I’m told; Father’s in a bad mood today. Something happened at work, I’m guessing. My father is the chief financial officer in a large company that he helped found. Unfortunately, he gets angry when people don’t do what he wants them to, and he brings that anger home to my mother and I. Mostly me, seeing as I don’t do what he wants me to, either. Mother says that if I just do what he tells me and stay out of his way when he’s angry after work he wouldn’t punish me so often. I’ve never been one to tiptoe around people, though.
Father drops his fork and knife onto his plate.
“Do not talk back to me.” He says, “I’m not blind, I can see that you’re not sitting up straight.”
“I realize that human communication isn’t something you’re familiar with, but usually people take turns talking in a conversation.” I tell him. If any of my friends were here, especially Regulus, they would advise me not to provoke my father. Luckily for me, they’re all stuck in their own stuffy houses, which means I get to antagonise my father as much as I want.
“Do you enjoy disrespecting me, Bartemius? Is that it?” I can practically see the heat rising in his face. “Did I do something drastically wrong in parenting you?”
“You think you parented me?” I scoff, “Please. Mother barely parented me, let alone you.”
“Go to your room, Barty.” My mother cuts in, looking at me beseechingly. The jab at her was mean, but not untrue. “There’s no need for that attitude.”
“No, Bartemius, stay. I’d like to hear more about how little I apparently parented you.” Father sneers, “Is that what you’re going around telling people? That your parents did nothing for you, that your life has been one tragedy after the other?”
“Nah, I’m good. You seem to understand already.” I grin. His face is almost entirely red. I wish I could take a picture. “I think I’ll listen to Mother and go to my room.”
“Oh, so you listen to her, just not me? You forget that everything you have is because of me. The roof over your head, the food in your stomach, every little toy that you’ve had is because I worked hard to give it to you!” He’s shouting now. I have to stop myself from laughing.
“The only thing I have because of you is daddy issues.”
"You--"
“I’m sure he didn’t mean that, right? Apologise to your father, Bartemius.” Mother cuts in, desperately trying to de-escalate the situation. I do feel bad for her. She doesn’t want to see me get hurt any more than I want to apologize to the sleazy asshat that is my father.
“You know very well he won’t. I know you’ve seen his little friends , darling.” My father takes a swig of his wine and I stiffen at the mention of my friends. “The Meadowes girl dresses much too brazenly for someone of her status, the Blacks’ oldest ran away a couple years back, and the Rosier children? Have you ever seen children so odd as those twins? Why even bother having children if you let them run about like that?”
“You’re wrong.” I spit. Fury seeps into my mind like a poisonous gas, ready to burn away my sanity and replace my blood with fire.
He turns to me, still holding his glass of wine.
“Excuse me?”
“My friends are better than you have been and will ever be. They care about me and each other probably more than you ever did Mother, and definitely more than you ever cared for me.”
He only laughs.
“Those heathens may say they care about you, Bartemius, but they’ll leave you as soon as you’re no longer useful to them. It’s what they were taught to do. If I had realized you would get so attached I would never have let them keep you company. It’s alright, though, we can fix that. I’m sad to see them leave, though, the Meadowes girl is quite a looker. Maybe once you’re less emotional I’ll marry you to her.”
Suddenly I can’t even think enough to ignore the consequences of my actions. Whatever happens to me is worth it as long as my father gets what he deserves for saying such things about my friends.
“Fuck you!” I scream. His humour turns sour. My father grabs my face and brings me in close.
“You’re a disappointment, Bartemius. You’ll regret speaking to me like that.”
I hit him as hard as I can, right across the face. My mother gasps, but the fire in my blood only spreads. The smoke is stinging my eyes, clouding my thoughts. All I can feel is the heat.
My father takes only a second to gather his bearings, hitting me back. I’m strong, but he’s been doing this a lot longer.
Red wine mixes with blood on the carpet.