|My attempt at a ficlett
||[Feb. 11th, 2006|02:47 am]
Sean walked into his apartment, pretty much exhausted. He had worked pretty hard during the day on a house. This house was the most complicated and intense one yet, plus the weather wasn't helping too much. He had also put in some time trying to make his car run a bit better. He should have just slept earlier. But alas he didn't, he got bored. He talked to Lil and ended up going to her place for brownies. Sean enjoyed that because Lil always made him happy. Unfortunately, he got hit with a wave of his urges while he was with her but as usual, he managed to focus and get past them.
Now that he was home, Sean just wanted to rest. He knew that he'd have to put in a lot of work over the next few days in order to go away with Lil, Ash, and Spinner next week and he wasn't really looking forward to the overtime but he was excited about the trip. The only person that probably knew just how excited he was was Lil and she thought it was cute. He shook his head at that thought. He was also looking forward to hanging out with Lil and his friend Sam tomorrow after work. He really did want Lil to be happy and he figured Sam could do the trick.
Sean walked into his room and pulled off his shirt, collapsing face down on top of the bed. Just when he got comfortable, the phone rang. Sean groaned and tried to ignore it but the caller was clearly persistent. He eventaully, got up and and answered, barking out a hello. "You have a collect call from Wasaga Beach County Jail." Sean swallowed deep. There was only one person he knew in that jail, someone he knew that he never needed to see, but for some reason he accepted the call. When it connected there was silence except for the thundering of Sean's heart in his ears and the steady breathing of the person on the other end. Sean eventually said hello, not being able to cope with the silence. "Why hello there Seany. How's my favorite son?" The voice was laced with sarcasm and anger. Sean shut his eyes and stayed silent. "No answer?" His father asked with a malevolent chuckle. "Well that's just fine. I just wanted to let you know that I'll be out of here in a couple weeks and..." He paused, lowering his voice to a deadly whisper. "And when I get out, I'm coming for you. Think you can take my wife away and leave me in here to rot boy without so much as even getting me a lawyer and I'm not gonna do anything? No no, my boy, you're gonna pay, one way or the other...."
At this, Sean dropped the phone, not wanting to hear anymore. He slid down the wall to a sitting position on the floor. He pulled his knees into his chest, shaking uncontrollably. Anybody that knew him probably wouldn't recognize him in this state. His face was blank and his eyes were lost. He was finally happy again, really happy and it was all going to shatter. He knew that his father wouldn't just show up. He'd probably wait weeks, maybe even months just to keep Sean tensed up. Sean didn't know what to do. Nobody could help him with this. He always knew that his father was going to come back angry about all the things that Sean "took" from him, he just had hoped it'd be farther down the line.
Sean shook himself out of his thoughts and stood looking in the mirror. He hated the weakness and fear he saw. He knew that he couldn't be like this tomorrow with Sam and Lil. She'd see it for sure. His mind couldn't cope with the pain and the embarrassment. For the first time, Sean felt his urges coming back in full force with no chance of his rehab coping skills working. Almost robotically, he picked up his cell and dialed a number that he hated. Caller ID being what it is, the owner answered with "Well, well it's the middle of the night and Mr. Clean is calling me. So that must mean one of two things. Either you dialed the wrong number which I highly doubt. Or somebody doesn't wanna be so clean anymore." Sean's body filled with anger and the dealer's joking nature. Before he spoke, he thought of Ash who he never wanted to hurt and Lil who he was trying to be an example for and he almost hung up. But then his father's maniacal laughter played in his head and all he could muster was "How much for an eightball..."