(You should probably read Thanksgiving before this)
Enjoy the Show.
I - 1996
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Winston was on the ground, his face red and covered with tears.
“You think you’re better than me boy!? You think just because you have a father that god loves you unconditionally? You better think differently boy...” His father yelled at him, curling his belt back once again. The six year old curled up in a fetal position, scared for his life. “...because with god as my witness, I will make. Your. Life. Hell.”
--
II - 2001
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Five years had passed and the eleven year old boy was more defiant than ever. A new bruise under his brow and a new excuse to his homeroom teacher.
“Winston, are you sur-”
“Ms. Cauwell, I’m telling you...I fell off the slide. It’s nothing....really.”
A different excuse for everyday of the week, a different excuse for every new bruise. Each one with its own story.
The one on his wrist, purple and black now from the repetition of the cow’s hide and its wicked thump on Winston’s skin. Thump! Thump! Thump! It went as Winston screamed out and Greggory, sweet Gregory the youngest of the brothers cried behind him with the youngest member of the family, Felicity Marsh nestled in his arms. The 4 year old crying as Winston stood in front of his father defiantly blocking himself as the belt cracked down upon him again and again.
“It’s really nothing Ms. Mallory, I’m telling you. I just fell down.”
A new bruise. A new day.
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III - 2006
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“Gah!” Winston shouted out for the third time during this particular band practice. His wrist hanging by his side limply. Gary, Gears enigmatic frontman looked over at his guitarist.
“You OK Winston?”
Winston, the 16 year old who was currently hiding multiple welts under his hoodie calmly breathed out before nodding. “Lets keep going.”
The boy quietly recomposed himself, he couldn’t let anyone know, to let people know his pain would be to let that old fucker win and above all else that wouldn’t happen. Never, never in his life.
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IV - 2011
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The 21 year old, Winston, now free from his father’s brand of hatred. Or at least he was before Thanksgiving. His brother Greggory had proposed to Mariah and as an Irish male, family traditions made it so that he had to ask his father and then Mariah’s mother if he could marry her. Winston hadn’t seen Greg in weeks and now, Winston found himself drinking heavily at a dive bar in Seattle.
Winston drank again...and again...and again day after day before finally a gentleman sat next to him, one who spoke with a certain air about him.
“‘ell there partner. Looks like you’ve drank yourself into a fuckin’ mess.” The stranger said to him.
Winston looked over at the man, and his eyes widened, his mouth dropped open and he could only stare. “You...y-you’re...the Duke!”
It was true, the old man that had presented himself in front of Winston was the man who he had idolized many times over as a boy, John Wayne in the flesh. “You gonna let your old man fuck you like that boy?”
“Hell sir, he...I can’t beat him.”
“Not like this y’can’t, no boy, your gonna need to get sober.”
“Sober, oh god...so this is one of those hallucinations?”
Wayne was up faster than Winston had ever seen any man move before, his hands on Winston’s throat, “You some kind of pussy? Your brother believed in you for the longest godamn time! Remember when you were a boy, remember when you protected him!? You’re a godamn drunk now and a fucking pussy at that.” Wayne threw Winston down, the drunk scrambles on the floor.
“Hey! Fuck you man! I ain’t done nothing to nobody and its done me a whole lot of fucking good! I mean Renee is hitting a depression spiral, Paul is fucking some chick right now and Gary! Gary is six feet under, that’s what happens when I stick my neck out! So you, you can take your godamn morals and stuff them right up your fucking ass! Where were you when I really needed you Duke, where were you then you fucking burn-out!?” Winston yells from the floor. He finally gains his balance staring the Duke straight into the eyes.
“I’ve always been here boy, I think the real problem is...you just lost sight.” The Duke says, no anger in his eyes, just pure sincerity. That’s when it hits Winston, hits him like a ton of bricks. He holds his head, whispers surrounding him.
It’s not your fault Winston. Youcouldnthavedoneanything. Don’t blame yourself forever. GARYISDEADBEACAUSEOFYOU! You’re a fucking has-been! Noonewilleverloveyou!
And finally, his voice came in...the one that mattered:
Oi, you don’t have to think about music to play it Winston you fucking idiot. Find your soul and play to its rhythm, that’s how you find Nirvana that’s how you find the phantom riff.
Winston was back up, gasping for air and the Duke grinned at him, waving goodbye as Wayne was gone as quick as he had came. Winston knew what he had to do, he ran up the stairs from the bar, knocking over some of the hotel’s slower patrons before arriving before his room and then before you knew it, he was in his room...
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V - Two Days Later
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...and 48 hours later he was back out, slightly paler, more sickly but successfully he had managed to battle his beasts for the longest 48 hours of his life and it wasn’t going to get any easier, but he knew it was time.
…... …
Greggory’s life had been pure hell for the past few weeks, he had been subject to his father’s harshest criticisms.
Today’s were the harshest, the old pastor was blaming his son for his mother’s death. Constantly throwing the word, failure, in the younger Marsh’s face. He couldn’t take much anymore, he had managed to save his tears for as long as people but they were about to come out full force.
“Hey, old fucker!” shouted a voice from the front door, and with a loud bang Winston was there, Greggory soon noticed that his brother saving him was the one constant factor in his life. Winston stood in the house, right next to the demolished door, as his father pulled his belt off with a wicked grin.
“So, the prodigial son returns. The one who started it all.”
“Where’s mom?”
“Dead.”
Winston frowned, but he couldn’t let that weigh him down, he quickly contorted his face back to a serious one, putting his fists up as he stood, still quite woozy.
“So son, you gonna fight with your old man huh? You pulling a double whammy? Are you drunk too?”
“Sober.”
“HA! You little cunt, I’m your father you little fucker. I remember back when you used to pretend to be sober and stay that way for a fucking day. Being sober for a day doesnt make you a saint!”
“One difference dad, I’ve been sober for two.”
The father frowns and his son grins and the two come together, together in conflict as the father brings down his belt and the son slams his fists into the man’s face...
Blood escapes the father’s mouth and Winston winces before the son slams his father with a headbutt.
“YOU ASS! He’s getting married!”
The father stops for a moment, halting completely. “What?”
“Greg found a nice girl, he’s ready to settle down. You, why can’t you just accept that? Why can’t you just be a good fucking father for once and let your son, let a member of this family be happy for once. It was bad enough that you spent so long fucking up Felicity’s life that she goes to a boarding school now, but please...please dad. Just let Greg have this one moment, one moment where we can pretend that you have an inch of goodness within you. So please, just say...yes.”
… …
The two brothers left the house, Greg supporting his older brother for the first time, figuratively and literally as they climb into a cab. Greg as a great big grin on his face one that says thanks to his older brother.
“Never tell anyone about this or I fucking kill you. Now c’mon, I gotta hit a rehab center because I feel fucking terrible.”
END
(OOC: Thanks for reading.)
