Free Fall (Give Me Your Hand)

Chapter One

PLEASE READ: This fic contains scenes of domestic violence, bullying, homophobia, child abuse, and terminal illness. There will also be eventual smut. Probably torture. Please read at your own discretion.

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction, and there is a fictional world inside of this fictional world that contains minor historical elements of real-world events. I am not including any historical figures, as this is a world within a world, and is not directly based on real events. I am not trying to make any political statement with this fic, I just arbitrarily picked a date and that sent me on a journey doing hours of research. That being said, I am not an expert on this topic nor would I pretend to be. I mean no offense in the inclusion of this topic, and I hope none is perceived.

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Pete vividly remembered the day his mother, Pakpao, shaved her head. His father, Kukrit, spent most of his time on the mainland, demolishing his body through construction work so he could send a little money home as he simultaneously eradicated any dignity he purported to have with alcohol. Pete often overheard his Yaai and his Mae pouring over the bills late into the night, whispering when they thought Pete was asleep. He eavesdropped on them talking about his father sending home only a fraction of what he used to. The rest of his earnings seemed to be going toward casinos and booze, if not women.

His mother did what she could, washing and mending things for elderly people in their community while Yaai looked after Pete, but her body wasn't working right anymore. She got dizzy a lot and was having trouble keeping her food down. Yaai made her stay home more, doing what she could in her daughter's place.

Pete's father came home at least twice a year to visit, but the last several times he visited always resulted in slammed doors and shouting. His father reeked of cheap beer and cigarettes, even though the smoke made him and his mother cough. His father always complained about how expensive Pete's inhalers were, but he refused to smoke on the porch. He was going off on his usual tirade, about how Pete was too weak, too soft with so many women around him.

"At least I know you're not bringing men home while I work my ass off for you and the brat," he said, propping his feet up on their table. "Especially since you look like shit," he added, eyeing Pakpao as he took another drag of his cigarette. "I don't even want to fuck you, now."

Pete's mother quickly moved to cover Pete's ears, but it was too late. He was old enough to know what they were talking about and it made Pete's blood boil.

"Don't you touch her," he snarled, his chin barely taller than their dining table.

Kukrit moved lightning-fast, throwing his legs off the table to get to his feet. Pakpao spun Pete around, trying to shield him, but his father was determined. He managed to yank Pete out of his mother's arms, smacking him over and over while she screamed. Pete felt partially deafened as blow after blow rained down on his head. At one point, his father closed his fist, splitting Pete's lip and his eyebrow as Pete struggled to catch his breath.

Yaai came home, then, and threatened to call the police if he didn't stop. Kukrit growled but tossed Pete limply onto the ground, where Pakpao rushed to pick him back up. She took Pete to his room, locking the door behind them. She was crying, her hand scrambling for his inhaler so she could shove it into his mouth. Pete wanted to cry, but he was already trying to go somewhere else in his mind. He was floating above their bodies, listening as Yaai screamed at his father. A door slammed and the house was quiet again, except for Pakpao's sobs and Pete's loud gasps.

Yaai knocked gently on the door as Pakpao flinched.

"He's gone."

Pakpao crushed Pete to her chest, throwing him back into his body, before getting up to open the door.