Deamons

Chapter 12 RunAway part 1

Chapter 12 RunAway

Starke settles into his next class, television productions. What went on with Kate was like a dirty bomb exploding. He has no clue where to start or if he can fix things with her at all. He is supposed to be helping out in the editing room of his T.V. productions class but instead he is trying to do his math homework before his next class. He plays off never having his homework done like he has better things to do after school. Truth is he cannot concentrate at home. It is the screaming. He cannot study there either so if he does not pick it up in class then he just does not learn it.

"Waste yourself. Only in me is there any peace," Death is coaxing him again. "Get! Get out of here," Rejection chases Death away from the brain center. There feasting and that is great but this is touchy ground. Rejection has been trying to hear into the mother but it has been silent over there. Her deamons did not appreciate Starke shutting them down the other day and cut off communications. Very unsettling, he could always hear something, but not this time. What to do? What to do, Rejection thinks.

His teacher comes in. Starke shoves his book under him. To late Mr. Connor saw it. "I need a STUDENT," he looked at Starke when he emphasized the word student. "To film a story for the school news about the talent show Friday," Mr. Connor says. "I'll do it," Starke answers without hesitation. It will give him an opportunity to be there and have something to do when he tries to talk to Kate. That way he may escape her to film if the conversation is going bad. "Ok that's that," Mr. Connor walks back out and Starke pulls his math book out again.

He got through the day without a word from Kate. Then he got through the next day and the one after that. It had been one of the quietest times in his life. Not a word from his father or any beatings from his mother. All the same he is living with the fear that at any moment they will strike. He hides out in the basement escaping into the surreal world of television drama where every problem is encountered and solved in a half hour. He wants the lives he sees others live in the box.

It is Friday. Starke made plans with Craig for him and his father to pick him up for the show. After school he mad primps taking more time than his mother to get ready. Poof, poof, two shots of Drakkar Noir, "Oh hell," he says then, poof, one more shot of cologne. He is ready and its way early. He tiptoes upstairs to see if he can sneak a bite to eat.

He is at the refrigerator engorging himself. "What are you doing!" It is his father. Starke wants to jump out his skin. He slams the door shut while pushing himself to the limit trying to gulp the food down in his mouth without making it obvious how much he ate. "You know how much money you just cost me keeping that door open all that time boy!" his father screams. His mother comes in behind him. Her grin looks awkwardly misplaced on her sour face. "Look at him Allan. Where does he think he is going, and he smells like a whore catcher," his mother asks? "Where do you think you are going, boy?" his father screams his question. "He thinks he is going to see that slut girl!" his mother screams. Starke tries slipping by the pair. He just wants to escape them afraid of blowing up like he did the other day. "He is pushing me Allan! Allan! He is pushing me!" his mother screams. He is not. She keeps moving to block his way and he is just trying to get around her. Then the shut down sounds arrive in his head, wub, wuub, wub. Oh no, he thinks. Got to make it downstairs. He cannot hear them now and gets past them using his size and strength. His mother is grabbing him as he descends the stairs. Anger is welling in him. Full red-faced anger flushes Starke's face. She is tugging his shirt, ripping it. Then she stops three steps from the bottom. "Fuck her!" Anger says. He rose from the bowels of the body and is behind Rejection who like always is at the orbs of the eyes. Anger places his hands to Rejection's shoulders supercharging the Deamon.

Bah Zing! Rejection so charged with energy shoots to Starke's nerve center in his mind taking control of his limbs. Starke's arm shoots out his hand grabbing his mother shirt gives her a tug and runs out ahead of her. She stumbles down the last few steps. She looks like a boulder in a pinball machine. He cannot help but to laugh. He can feel that she is not hurt. At least not physically hurt. Her psyches just wounded. Her face all screwed up as a result of her being perplexed as to what just occurred. Starke laughs all the more at her laying there like a turtle on it back.