Chapter 6
Peter gets into a fight the next week with John when they’re out. He knows, well, hopes, he got all his anger out already. He yelled himself hoarse at Peter for half an hour in a parking lot already, but he still doesn’t want to be near him. May’s been silent since Peter said he didn’t like walking this way home and asked if they could go a different way. That’s when the yelling started. Peter started crying immediately in the middle of the parking lot, and continued all the way home. He hasn’t stopped.
The fight is echoing in his brain. When John gets worked up like this he tends to grab onto a specific point and beat it to death. He’ll say the same thing over and over again in a hundred different ways, sometimes the same way, and it gets trapped in Peter’s head. At first the words are jarring, but after a while they become normal. They become true. “You can’t just get everything you want in this life. It doesn’t work like that. You’re a nazi Peter. A fucking dictator, and I don’t care if that’s how you act around other people, but you don’t get to act like that to me. You’ll never have any friends if you keep acting like this. No one will want to be near you, they won’t be able to stand you. I’m surprised you even have any friends at all if this is how you decide to act. If they choose to put up with you that’s their own choice. Or do you not act like this around them? Are you nice to them and only terrible to me? I don’t deserve this kind of treatment. You always think that you can control everyone around you and make all the decisions for everyone. I’m a person too Peter. You don’t get to just push me around and don’t for a second think you can. Are you trying to be a terrible person? Because from my point of view it sure seems like it. You better change before everyone decides that they can’t put up with you any longer. If you want anyone in your life you better know what’s good for you and drop this attitude right now. And I mean right now.”
Peter steps towards their front door with tears blurring his vision. He can’t stop his feet from moving towards the door. He realizes that he wants more than anything to flee. He doesn’t want to go through the door and into the apartment more than anything. But he has nowhere to go. If he did manage to stop his feet - god he wants that more than anything - he would have nowhere to go. He has nowhere. He could go on a walk, but that would only delay walking through these doors. He has no choice. He has no idea why he doesn’t just turn around and walk the other way and go somewhere. He’s furious with himself for not leaving. For not turning around and getting the hell out of here. He has nowhere to go. That realization causes panic to spread through his body. He really is trapped. He can’t go anywhere. At least nowhere that's permanent. He could sit on a bench at a park for a while. Or walk until his feet hurt and only then turn around. But it doesn’t matter. He would still end up here. He has never thought about it like this before, but now the thought is paralyzing him (if only) (please don’t go through those doors). He reaches the door and stares at it; he doesn’t have his key. May steps forward from behind him and puts her key in the lock, twisting it to the right. He hears the lock slide open and he puts his hand on the doorknob. Peter can hear him walking down the hall. May pulls her key out of the lock and Peter turns the handle and swings the door inwards. He brushes past May on his right and makes a beeline for his bedroom. He can barely see now with all the tears in his eyes. He steps into his room and closes the door behind him. He takes a step, and then another, before stilling. He stands in the middle of his room and cries silently. He just wants out out out. He can’t think. There's a pressure in his head and he wants to scream and punch and kick and break everything in his room. He feels like he’s going to explode. He doesn’t. He stands perfectly still. His face is hot and he’s looking at the floor. He feels angry. So, so, angry. If he were to lose it he thinks right now would be the time to do it. He would be perfectly justified. He has felt like this so many times but each time he calms himself down, and does nothing. He doesn’t storm out of the house and walk around for hours just to get away. He doesn’t break his things and punch his wall until he breaks his hand. He could do all of those things, it would be so easy - and feel so good - but in reality he can’t. He feels angry at John and angry at himself. Angry at John because can’t he just get a break? One minute of peace? Angry at himself because he never does anything. He is always on the verge of losing it, but he never does. Are his feelings even real if he doesn’t react? Is he exaggerating them if he can always talk himself down? On the outside, he might seem only mildly upset. On the inside, he has never felt so much. He doesn’t know exactly what he’s feeling, but he knows that whatever it is, it is a powerful and all-consuming and nasty feeling. One he hates to feel but knows nothing about. He thinks he’s the only one who’s ever felt like this, and maybe he is. He’s still standing in the middle of his room. He still wants to walk out the door and never come back. But he’s got nowhere to go.