Shadowplay | Tony Stark

TWELVE - ENOUGH

"You do not hit, do you understand me? You do not hit, punch, kick, or throw anything at anybody. Tristan that is enough!"

Tony had emerged from the basement in search of a cup of coffee after his eyes had grown weary from working without a break all morning. What he didn't expect, however, was to walk straight into what sounded like a warzone.

Mila and Tristan were barely halfway up the stairs, Mila with a basket of unfolded laundry under her arm and her hand firmly tightened around Tristan's wrist while he screamed bloody murder at the top of his lungs, tears streaming down his cheeks.

Tony had witnessed a few of Tristan's tantrums, but he had never seen the child repeatedly clawing at his mother's arms or hitting her as she turned away her face.

"I'm not tired I don't want to go to sleep!"

Mila let out a heavy sigh as Tristan shouted in her face, pure anger and hatred written in the young boy's eyes that was enough to break Tony's heart to see, let alone for his mother to be face to face with.

Tony swallowed, feeling helpless at what to do but equally uncomfortable watching the scene unfold without anything to offer.

"Give that to me, here."

He grabbed the laundry basket from Mila who let him take it without hesitation, though couldn't find a spare breath to say a word to him. She picked up Tristan and carried him kicking and screaming up the stairs, the noise muffling once the bedroom door sealed them both inside.

Tony boiled the kettle and began to fold the laundry, making a strong coffee for himself and a tea with honey and lemon for Mila, hoping it would still be warm by the time she came back downstairs.

Tristan's screaming was still audible from upstairs, a mixture of screaming and crying which by that point were barely any different, though after around twenty minutes, silence fell across the house and Tony heard the door upstairs open and close.

He threw away the cold cup of tea and began making a fresh one once Mila began to quietly pad down the stairs, though she didn't approach him in the kitchen, instead walking straight out of the front door and down onto the wooden dock by the lake.

Tony watched for a moment, though felt cruel standing by and doing nothing when he saw Mila drop her face into her hands, her shoulders shaking as she cried alone by the water, instantly making his stomach drop at the scene.

He followed her outside, walking coyly towards her with his hands in his pockets, an awkwardness about approaching her as he tried to think about what to say to a woman who was clearly just exhausted.

"Hey," Tony whispered, "Hey, Mila, you wanna talk to me?"

Mila sniffed and wiped her eyes when Tony joined her on the dock, her hands on her hips as she looked up to the sky to try and dry her tears, taking a few deep breaths in to settle her lungs and her heart, her entire body still feeling like it was fighting a battle even though Tristan had eventually gone down for a nap.

"I love him," she said, shaking her head, "I love him more than anything but my God does he test me some days."

She squeezed her eyes shut and stood still for a moment, Tony reflecting in the silence. It was midday and the sun was high in the sky, the first day of Spring being just a week away. Leaves had started to reappear on the trees and a few flowers had bloomed, the sun was a rough warmer and the days were getting longer, the darkness of night not creeping in till around six-thirty in the evening.

"Do you think it's my fault?" Mila said, turning to look at Tony, "Do you think if he'd had a father he would be different? You think he wouldn't rebel as much and hit and kick me? Do you think I should've tried harder with his father, should I have done things differently with him or maybe I-"