That One Click

House

one.

"shut up!"

two, three.

"shut up, shut up!"

four.

"shut!"

five.

"up!"

six.

over.

------

tyler yanked his covers over his head in a pool of sweat, tears, and just the slightest amount of blood from where his dad had hit his cheek and opened up the cut he had given him the night before.

all he had done this time was ask if his parents were going to the chapel. it's not like he'd asked them if he could actually go and get something to eat, it's not like he'd asked them if he could leave his room, it's not like he'd asked them to stop being rampaging assholes and to listen to their only son for once. he'd just asked if they were going to the fucking church, to fucking commemorate his dead siblings. that's all.

maybe he did have a good reason to hit me, tyler thought as he tentatively ran two fingers over his bleeding cheek. the blood dripped down his fingers and onto his already bloodstained sheets. lovely. i shouldn't have asked them about the anniversary.

get up, ty, zack would've told him, if he were here.

don't sweat it, bro, maddie would've told him, if she were here.

yo, you're bleeding, man, jay would've told him, if he were here.

but none of them were here, thanks to some dumbass with a car and a drinking problem, and all tyler had to show for it was an aching body, bloodstained sheets, and an empty stomach.

he fought back more tears and instead shakily stood up, his bones very much protesting to his sudden movement. he went over to his window and stared out of it with glassy eyes and shallow breath. he didn't have anything else to do, and this, he could do for hours. life happened outside his window. all life stopped once you entered his house.

his house.

not home, but house.

kids played with basketballs and kickballs near his driveway, enjoying the late afternoon sun. in the street, smaller boys with loose helmets attempted tricks on their worn-out skateboards and wheelies on their bicycles.

you're gonna spilt your head open, tyler thought as he watched a child tumble off of his bike and onto the concrete. he winced as the child started crying. poor baby.

let them have their fun, another part of his brain told him. are you jealous, 'cause you never got to have any since your brothers and sister died? or because you should've gone down right along with them, but you didn't, and now you're stuck with your oh-so-loving parents?

"shuddup," tyler mumbled to himself, more tears welling up in his eyes. but he couldn't stop from thinking in the back of his head- both.

------

"tyler robert!"

tyler jolted awake, groaning as sharp pains seared through multiple places on his body. fear surged through him at the sound of his mother's voice. oh fuck, what did he do? what did he-

"tyler, goddammit!"

she sounded pissed, and tyler mentally prepped himself for a paragraph of screaming or maybe even a couple swings.

"m'coming," he croaked, flying down the stairs as fast as his aching limbs would allow him. he was met by his mom at the bottom of the steps, and shit, behind her, his dad.

"did you fucking steal money from my purse last night?" she snarled, waving her bag in his face.

tyler inwardly groaned. of course she'd noticed. okay, yes, he did steal a five dollar bill from her purse late last night to buy food, but that's only because he hadn't eaten in almost four days and he was starting to get dizzy way more often than usual and he was pretty sure that wasn't normal.

he stared back up at her, trying to stop his legs from shaking. "i- i-"

"you fucking did, worthless goddamn piece of shit! i can't believe it! i don't work my ass off for you to come and steal my goddamn money!" she stepped forward and tyler slightly whimpered.

"don't worry 'bout it, kelly, i'll take care of him," his father spoke up, and tyler's eyes glazed over.

kelly nodded sternly, and turned to leave, scowling. "i hope my money was fucking worth it, useless fag," she sneered, exiting the living room. tyler looked down at the floor.

"m'sorry," he dared to say to his father, a tear spilling onto the hardwood.

one.

"shut up!"

two.

"you don't get to be sorry, you fucking pussy! sorry doesn't get your mom's money back!"

tyler actually stared up at him in disbelief, clutching his side. it was literally just a fucking five dollar bill.

three, four.

"sorry doesn't bring your brothers and sister back!"

"i'm sorry!"

five.

"shut up!"

six.

over.