spar :: hiddlesworth au

4

Needless to say, Tom did not have the amenities of a perfect life. In fact, his home life was known to be a complete shit show.

It began at birth when he emerged from a 16-year-old mother. His father was a full six years older, and it was clear neither had experience; they were not fit to be parents. No parenting book could help an illiterate parent–or one unwilling to pick up a paperback book. No, they were not ones to visit a library or simply type 'parenting' into the search bar of a dinosaur search engine. Tom would recommend that idea for expecting parents. Perhaps then children would not fear home

Their extended family quickly abandoned the trio, and Tom's parents were left with little advice.

To be clear, the punishments Tom received had not reached horrendous. His mother sticked to mental and verbal abuse, while his father handled the small shoves and hits. Both had a knack for slapping Tom's head somewhere: cheek, chin, forehead, cranium. It only got to the point where a dentist found bruises within the lad's cheeks. The frequent blows would send his flesh flying into his molars. However, Tom declared the actions minor. The countless magazine articles he read claimed his predicament could be far worse. Eventually, Tom vowed to snitch if it escalated. The chances of him sticking to the promise were slim. They were his parents, after all.

Enter self defense training–an idea that somewhat bothered Tom, but his instincts were persistent and insisted.

He had been to several sessions, each impossibly more disappointing than the last. Regardless, Chris was not giving up.

Tom, on the other hand, was always quick to call it quits. Tapping out, grabbing Chris' ever-so-muscular arms and forfeiting. He threw up white flags more than he threw a punch.

It reminded him of pottery in school, as he failed to center masterpieces on a board spinning bajillion miles per hour. He gave up then too. If he dropped his parents would not see his mistakes. Career based academics were a different story. He had no choice but to do well.

After Tom's embarrassing confession, personal topics were never discussed in defense class. Chris did not pry, and Tom was unwilling to press any further.

What idiot would say such a thing? And so soon? Tom had never felt so stupid. He barely knew Chris.

Now, walking to his next lesson, Tom worried further. Perhaps Chris would evaluate Tom's every glance and move.

To Chris, the confession required no further thought. It did not change his opinion. It was hardly important to him. Nothing to lose sleep over. In his opinion, it was more of an explanation. Perhaps Tom told him to drop a subtle hint as to why he was in need of these sessions. Whether it be people at school or not.

It did not make walking into the building any less stressful.

He pushed the door open, expecting a familiar bell to sound. He winced in preparation, for he hated the noise. It startled him the day after Chris must have installed it.

Silence.

The ring never came, and the bell was long gone. Instead, there was evidence of a rushed removal. The two holes in the drywall were empty, now pointless without screws.

The once empty front desk now supported a blue screwdriver and two tortured, broken screws.

Chris had removed the expensive, electronic bell. The one that worked perfectly.

"Tom, my favorite student." Chris did his best to keep a gentle tone.

"Liar." muttered Tom.

"I don't lie. You have the most personality."