Title: Just Lie
Summary: A 5-year old Wally decides to write about how he feels in order to forget it.
It wasn’t a dark and stormy night as one would expect for this particular dark weather that plagued the entire house. It was strangely peaceful outside, although he couldn’t quite say the same for his house. This roof, ceased to be home a long time ago, when his mother never came back after and Rudy (not father, never DAD) became… rougher. He had long ceased trying to hold his household together, cooking, cleaning, etc.… mainly taking care of his father and himself. Uncle Barry and Auntie Iris did not know how his life was and he wanted to keep it that way, he did not want to be seen as worthless failure to them to.
Anyways, today he had done good. He had cleaned the house, done his chores, his homework his kindergarten teacher had given him to study over summer break, as she noticed he was very intelligent, and wished to help him study, as he was going to start 2nd grade soon. It seemed weird to skip a grade, but his father seemed content with that the day they received the letter, not shoving him so hard up the stairs and not beating him up that day. That day was a good day, though it seemed so far away right now.
Now, he strained to see through his good eye, hiding under the bed seemed like a good idea at first, but he soon realized it was really uncomfortable with bruised, maybe broken ribs. Something sticky rolled through his cheek as he gingerly patted his messy scarlet hair only to whimper and draw his hand back as he felt a sticky damp mess in the left side of his head. He knew his hair was probably matted from the blood, but he knew he wasn’t bleeding much anymore. He softly tucked his wrist next to him as he winced from hearing a loud thump downstairs. He knew Rudy was asleep now, he probably turned around from his slumped place in the couch, and dropped something.
Today had been a bad day, his father had gotten home from work, angry, drunk, and tired. A bad combination. Even though everything was clean and done as instructed, he had used him as his punching bag for a good hour and a half until he got tired and slumped down to eat dinner. Wally had taken that as permission to go to this room. He quickly stumbled up the stairs, holding in his bruised ribs, fractured wrist and other injuries he would have to fix tomorrow. Before he could make it to his room though, his father had thrown something at him, yelling obscenities and calling him a disgrace, before slumping down into his couch to watch TV. Wally had not seen the bottle coming, luckily enough it just hit him in the back, strong enough to make him fall, but not to shatter on him, although it did break as it fell down the stairs. Usually Wally was able to catch himself before he fell down the stairs, but with one sprained wrist, he tumbled down, hitting his head rather hard. Woozy, he stumbled quickly and dove under his bed, knowing if he made a bigger mess, Rudy would come to beat into him again.
He had set up a system though, tomorrow he was going to visit his aunt and uncle, and he could not be sad. If he was sad, then they were sad, and he would feel guilty, while Rudy would take this as a good reason to punch him more after. He grabbed the little notebook from under a loose floorboard below him, grabbing a tiny flashlight he had found outside when he was locked out if the house last month. With a pencil in his hand he started writing trembling with quiet sobs as he wrote. Tomorrow Rudy would apologize again, say he loved him, and drop him off with his uncle and aunt, then everything would follow through as usual with Rudy drunk and angry beating him up again.
When he had first started writing, he felt as though a load was taken from him, leaving his emotions in the paper rather than carrying them with him. Which was good since he liked feeling happy, and he needed to be happy for tomorrow at least. He softly reread what he had written.
Just Lie by Wally West
And say you love me,
That Im just wortless,
Quit lying, lying, lying
And admit the truth
That I am a horible
And say you hate me
That Im jut useful
Quit lying, lying, lying
And admit the ugly truth
That Im a failure
Human that has no wort at all
You love me.
As tears fell down, staining the paper, he quickly wrote, closed the notebook and stuffed it inside the floorboard again, as he softly cried himself to sleep, with a hopeful smile on his face for the next day where he could have fun with his uncle and aunt.