The Inexplicable Exploits of the Dork Corps

Part V - Fire = Benson (Because she knows)

He was five, and the  teacher at his kindergarten told them to draw a picture of his dad for fathers day. He drew a cartoon devil's tail on a stick figure and wrote a misspelling of the word "bastard" over his head. That was the day he learned that he shouldn't tell the teachers what his mom says to him. More like shrieks.

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He was six, and it was the first time his mother called him Worth-less. He was crying on the back porch, and he didn't notice her drunk stupor in the aftermath of her twenty-first birthday. He didn't notice her locking the door. That was the first time he slept outside.

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He was seven, and his mother had thrown a half empty beer bottle at his head. It hurt like the word his mommy said he made her life. She screeched at him like a harpy. He learned that his skin was the exact same shade as his mothers and is he covered up his cuts with concealer, he didn't have to stay at home and miss a day or two of school.

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He was nine when he realized that other kids aren't afraid of their mothers. That no one else wears concealer. That he's the only one who has to be silent while she at home or else he gets hit. None of the other kids stay at school for as long as they can so they don't have to go home.

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He was ten, and he started working on an invention to win his mother over. Then maybe she would stop hitting him. He spends all night working and oversleeps in the morning so he doesn't have any time for breakfast.

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He was eleven when he first passed out from his lack of food and sleep. He was in PE, so no one thought it was anything but heat stroke. That was also around the time he started catching up on sleep in class. His grades started dropping.

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He was twelve when he started drinking coffee. Twelve when he threw up in the bathroom after eating anything more than a granola bar. Twelve when he snuck his first cigarette from his mother, and it disgusted him so much that he completely suppressed his appetite.

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He was thirteen when his mother came home utterly sloshed and began to hit him. Harder than before. A full beer bottle collided with his temple and he passed out. He woke up a couple hours later in the most pain he'd ever experienced. He woke up with FREAK written across his shoulder blades, and his mother passed out across his lower back with a bloody shard of green glass wine bottle in her hand.

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He's fourteen when he's finally fed up with all of her shit. He tells her off and she hits him in the head with a mirror. She hauls him out by the scruff of his neck and throws him into the yard with a shout. He's fourteen when he meets the Corps. That's the good thing about fourteen.

    "Carter! Carter listen to me. Breathe in for four...hold for five... breathe out for six." A voice cut through the shrieking in his head, the screeching over and over again of;

     "I wish you were never born! You ruined my life! You're a worthless freak just like your father. worthless. Worthless. Worthless! WORTHLESS!"