dollhouse // billy hargrove

five

billy's pov

the squealing of my car's tires is all you can hear for miles. neil is going to kill me, i've been late before and i didn't hear the rest of it for years. as i'm racing down the abandoned streets of hawkins, i look in the mirror to see my red-headed sister, if you would even call her that, turn the corner on her skateboard.

i quickly whip the wheel to turn around as i race back down the road i came from and i pull up to her. she kicks up her skateboard and walks towards my window.

"max, get in the car." i requested in a soft voice.

"if you were not there when i needed you to take me home at school, why are you here now?" max was one hell of a fighter. she rarely changed her mind and if she did, she would give you hell about it for the rest of your life.

"max, get in the fucking car! get in the fucking car! get in the fucking car!" my once soft voice, turned into anger, as i bang my hands against the steering wheel in frustration.

and her once strong eyes have reverted back to pain-filled. she opens the passenger door and does not look at me at all, immediately going to staring out the window.

"i should've just let you take your skateboard home, we're going to be late anyway." i growl.

"it's your fault." i hear her faintly mumble under her breath.

those words again. it's always those words.

"i'm sorry, say that again, i didn't seem to quite catch it the first time," i remark, knowing well i did hear it the first time. i just wanted to hear her speak up, talk back to me.

"nothing." she says quietly, i look over and see her face reflecting in the window. tears begging to be released.

"it's always going to be my fault, there is no escaping it," i say, referencing i heard what she had said the first time.

the rest of the car ride was silent and max's tears broke her waterline. i pulled into the driveway, over an hour late. neil and susan were standing at the front door. i let max out, she slams the door, and runs inside. i put my car in reverse and start backing up, i can't go in there.

neil chases my car and starts banging on my hood, "where the hell do you think you're going?"

"out." i lie. i had nowhere to go. i'm sure there was a party on one of these streets, but that was for me to figure out quickly.

"no you're not. if you can be an hour late to bringing home our dear max, you can be an hour late to seeing another one of your whores." he pauses. "better yet, thirty hours late. now get your ass inside right fucking now!" he finishes, spitting in my face.

i pull in my car again and the engine's roar dies down as i shift the gear to park, sitting in it for as long as i can until neil practically forces me to get out.

i slam my car door with all my bottled up anger. the chains hanging from the mirror shake to the vibrations.

i walk straight up to my room, making no contact with anyone. just hoping maybe one day i'll get a break. i look around, thoughts of sneaking out the window flood my head, only knowing it will get me in more trouble. plus there's no possible way of me sneaking out quietly because the engine will roar and wake up everyone in the neighborhood, including the beast himself.

i turn around to heavy footsteps walking up the stairs, the cracked drywall shedding caught my eye. he has done damage, but he will never admit to it.

the knocks from his bruised and bloody hands attack the door with violence, never giving up. i don't even ask what he wants, because i know. i walk to the door, my feet stumbling over one another. my sweaty palms grasp the cold doorknob as i open it.

as soon as the door opens an inch, he grabs my collar with incredible strength, not even a wild animal could have. "what the fuck is your problem?" he yells. "you were late to bringing max home and now she is crying, we were worried about her."

only her. it's always only her. never would he worry if i was home late or crying. but it's not like. he would ever notice anyway.

"why is it always my problem?" emphasizing on the my. "don't you ever think that maybe you are the problem?" i scream back. "you don't fucking care about max because if you fucking did maybe you would pick her up instead of picking up a bottle of booze every day."

i brace myself for the punch that i see coming from miles away. i could feel the blood drip down my face, everything else, just numb.

"when are you going to realize you're not the only person in this fucking world? take responsibility for your actions you fucking pussy." i feel another punch in my gut, taking away my breath for a few seconds.

but i keep fighting back, i can't keep letting him ruin my life. my fist soars through the air until it is stopped by skin to skin contact, but not the contact i wanted. he grabbed my arm, squeezing hard, stopping the one chance i got to show him how i really feel.

"when are you going to realize what being a fucking father figure means?" my voice tightens trying to hold back tears. "do you remember when you bought me my first bike? you brought it home from work one day, it was red. all because i wanted to be like you and your motorcycle. that is what a father is. not this." i say shaking my arm in his hand, trying to loosen the grip but also showing him what he is doing to us.

his grip tightens until he slams my hand down on my dresser, hand still tight around it. "when you start to realize what being a son means, i will realize what being a father means." he snarls back ignoring everything i mentioned about the bike.

"then tell me how!" i scream as he heads out the door, slamming it behind him.

i pick up my hand from off of the dresser.

"great, bleeding again. is this shit ever going to heal?" i mumble to myself.

i cut up one of my old shirts and turn it into a muscle tee and wrap my wound again, just how heather would have wanted to in the beginning, with fabric.