Things Have Changed (Adopted by Brendon Urie)

Time to Dance

~flash back~
4 years ago

I come home from school and open the door to my kitchen to see my mom making dinner on the stove.

"Hello Bumblebee, how was school?" She asks with that sweet and gentle voice of hers.

"It was good Mommy." I say putting my pink book bag on the hanger by the door. "Why are you making dinner so early?" I ask.

"Oh, your daddy is coming home from work early today and wants dinner right away." She says, stirring the pot on the stove.

"Oh, well, it smells good!" I say taking my homework out of my bag and setting it on the table.

"Thank you Bumblebee." She comes over and sits next to me.

"Do you need any help with your homework?" She asks.

She always asks me if I ever need any help. She knew almost everything. My mom was one of the most intelligent and sweetest people I've ever known.

"No mommy, this is easy." I say looking up from my math paper to her. She smiles sweetly and gets up from her chair.

"Okay Bumblebee, just tell me if you need anything." She goes back over to the pot on the stove and mixes it.
...

I sit on the couch in my living room mindlessly watching the tv. I am interrupted when the front door swings open and slams harshly. The whole house shakes under the impact.

"I'm home." I hear the gruff voice of my father say. His voice angry and raspy.

"Oh good honey," I hear my mother say from the kitchen, "I am almost done making dinner."

"Well, hurry up woman I'm hungry." My father says sternly.

I turn and peek over the top of the couch to see both of my parents in the kitchen. My mother by the stove, preparing the meal for tonight. And my father sitting at the table, his work uniform dirty from his job. He has a cigarette in between his lips and a beer bottle in his hand. He takes the cigarette from his mouth and puffs out a cloud of smoke.

I turn back around and face the tv again.

When daddy usually sounds like this, things don't look so good.
...

"Honey, time to eat!" My mother yells out.

I get up from the couch and go into the kitchen. I sit at my rightful place at the table. My father in front of me and my mother on the left.

The table has the china set out on top along with the food. The smell radiating from it makes my stomach growl.

The glasses are set out on top except where the glass for my dad should be is replaced by his half empty beer bottle.

My mother finally sits down and puts both of her hands out, "Let us say grace." She says nodding to both me and my dad.

We say a quick prayer and start eating. I put some food on my plate and start eating slowly. I look down at my plate in silence. The rule at the table is that you are not to speak unless spoken to. Which I follow because if I don't, bad things will happen.

"So, honey how was work?" My mother asks my father in a sweet manner.

"You want to know how work was?" My father spits out. The anger and venom present in his voice.

My mother nods. She cowers down in her chair, almost as if she knows what will happen if she were to disobey.

"Well, I got fired! How is that?!" My father yells, slamming his fist down on the table, making the objects on it jump in the air.