I bet that he kills me
The door opened and Barty was hit with the smell of candle wax and pinesol. His father stood, somehow looking down on him even though they were the same height. The man's face was hardened to an unreadable expression and his body as rigid as a statue. There was white noise coming from the kitchen and all at once Barty was that scared kid coming back home for summer with a bag too heavy to carry. He was being slapped across the face and sent to his room as punishment for all the detentions he had gotten over the year. He wasn’t being fed dinner because he didn’t know when to stop talking.
“Dad.” His voice didn’t shake, though his hands did.
“Bartemius.” He stepped inside, taking a seat on the couch and squeezing his hands between his knees. A cup of tea was placed in front of him before his father sat at the armchair across from the couch.
“You said there was something you wanted to discuss?” He kept his eyes focused, avoiding the urge to look around the room. If he gave in he would be faced with old photos of his childhood, memorabilia from before he was born, and other such things that made his stomach churn. Proof that his father was really a person. A person who had done awful things to hurt him, a person who had ruined him even. But a person nonetheless.
It had taken Barty a long time to accept that. How someone could do things like that and somehow despite it all continue to cling to their humanity.
“Yes. I think it’s time we discuss your.. Connections.” His blood ran cold. Barty knew exactly what that meant.
“What do you mean by that, father?” His nails dug into the side of his thigh.
“I think you know exactly what I mean. My father did the same for me around your age. It will strengthen our family.”
Bullshit. He wanted to say. Mum never wanted that. I doubt you did either. “I’m not ready to get married.”
“What you want is none of my concern. You’ll meet her next week and you will stay with me until then. She’s a nice young woman and I know her parents personally. I’m sure you two will-”
“No dad. I’m not getting married.”
“Don’t talk back to me.” His fathers voice was rising, and then they were both standing, face to face. Almost as though they were equals.
“I am not getting married.” He spoke louder this time, a bit more sure of himself.
“And what reason do you have for this? I am your father and you will respect me. Understood?”
“Because-” He felt his throat closing and hot tears threatening to break out. “I’m dating someone.”
“Break up with her. Unless her family can do us good she has no use.”
“I’m happy, dad.”
“You can be happy and successful as well, isn’t that better?” He watched his father sneer. He bit his lip and pretended the twitching of his fist was fear and not the urge to hurt him. Barty had never been that prone to violence. It took a lot before he got this mad. Some would say it’s a miracle that in spite of his childhood he had turned out like this. He thought it was because of it. He filled his head and sketchbooks with cliches of apples falling so far from the tree. Though in most of these fantasies he was still left to decompose. “Who is it, anyone? What's her name?”
He wanted to hold his breath and sit back down. He wanted to melt back into the cushions or better yet to never have existed at all. “Evan. Evan Rosier is my boyfriend. I’m not straight, dad.” Somehow he had never felt better than after finally saying that.
It was interrupted by the back of his fathers hand making impact with his cheek, ring cutting into the skin. “And you are no fucking son of mine!” His fathers voice was a scream, barely loud enough to drown out the fight or flight response blaring in his head. Unlucky for his father, Barty was bigger than he once was. He was no longer that little child. He had learnt to his back.
With all the strength he could muster he pushed his father back, palms against shoulders. His father hit back and there was a sickening crack as his fist collided with Bartys cheek bone.
“And you’re not my father. Never contact me again or I’ll take you to court and take every single dollar you have.”
He watched his father freeze. For once, he seemed to be at a lack of words. He stood in front of Barty with his lips parted and brow furrowed.
“Get out.”
“Gladly.”
“Faggot.”
He pinched his tongue between his lips, unable to find a suitable response. “Rot in hell.” Is all Barty mumbled as he turned, grabbed his things, and left. For the first time, Barty had no intentions of ever going back.
He sent Regulus a text before he started walking. He had no real destination in mind, just far away. That's all he really wanted.
And so he walked on sidewalk and gravel till his feet ached and his eyelids grew heavy. It was then that he realised he was near a small empty parking lot, with nothing but a little food truck near the back. It was close to Evans' house. He had passed it before.
He had never once noticed the flickering ‘open’ sign. Bright red letters flashed on and off and Barty was unsure if this was an electrical problem or on purpose. There were lukewarm pop cans sitting on the window ledge and a gruff man stood inside, back turned to the window.
He stepped up to it, reaching into his pocket to feel a few loose coins. “Uh- a dr.pepper and chips please?” He placed the handful of coins in front of the man who snatched them back in a large calloused hand. It was like one of those bartenders from disney films that is so disproportionate to every other character. He took his drink and food and sat at one of the metal mesh-like tables, sending a text to Evan and ignoring the missed calls and unread messages from Regulus. His face felt hot and sore, and he knew he was probably still bleeding. He could taste it in his mouth.
And then he started walking again. He could feel pain shooting up his calf from his ankle, and he was certain that his feet must be bleeding at least a bit. But he didn’t mind. The only thing that mattered to him was that it was never going to happen again. He was never going to have to look his father in the eyes and pretend he had any respect for that man. He would never have to watch his words or keep his face neutral. It was all over. Everything that Barty had been forcing himself to put up with for his entire life was finally over. He was safe.
He knew the crash would come soon. He knew this wasn’t going to fix the lifetime of problems he still had. But for now it was just a relief. For now he was safe. And that was really all that mattered.
For the second time that day, he reached forward, and knocked on the door.