Smiles (A Reverse Falls Story)

Pines Of Pain

"Boy, get down here!" 

You flinch. Jeez, what is it this time...? You'd hoped that after getting your dinner of pasta without sauce, which is very meh, that your parents would leave you alone for the rest of the day. But NO, you always have to do SOMETHING wrong, huh? 

You push your baseball cap lower over your white hair, mostly to hide your eyes so you might not have to make eye contact or anything terrifying like that, and you step out of your small second-story bedroom. You lean over the railing to peek down into the living room, and quickly pull back when you see your father pacing below. He doesn't look pleased. Then again, does he ever?

You don't think anything good can come out of delaying this encounter (mostly from experience), so you simply step down the stairs and into the living room, keeping your eyes low. When you speak, it's more of a half-assed mutter than anything else. You're not brave enough to speak much louder.

"Yes, Father...?" To your credit, you manage to keep your tone from shaking. But to be honest, that's probably because you feel so numb and detached at the moment. 

You assume he turns his gaze on you, but you wouldn't know, because the living room carpet is far more interesting at the moment. That's sure a carpet pattern. 

"Gideon." Your father growls. Yikes. Growling is never a good sign. "Stand up straight." 

You sigh and straighten out your back, tilting your head up to look at the large man. You're certain the expression on your face is very blank and stoic, which he certainly can't complain about.

He sighs, anyways, rubbing a few fingers to his temple. "You're a living headache, boy, why can't you just behave?" 

"What did I even do...?" You can't help but feel vaguely insulted. You haven't even DONE anything, to your knowledge, and you have lots of big plans this evening. Like reading a book, or something. And then sleeping. Lots of stuff going on there. 

"It's not WHAT you did, but what HASN'T been done." Your father narrows dark eyes down at you. You feel sweat trickle down your forehead. Your father's gaze is starting to bore into you, making you feel vaguely uncomfortable. "Didn't I tell you yesterday to go into town and buy some groceries? Somebody's gotta do it, and your mother sure isn't going to, now is she?"

"...no, she's not, Father." No, she's too busy dealing with making sure that the reputation of the Pines family was a perfect one. She has no time for trivial matters like groceries with such a full social life. And your father is tired every day after work. You start to feel guilty. You know what's expected of you, since you have neither of the above distractions. It's your duty to help your parents out. "Sorry. I forgot to." 

Your father 'hmph's and turns away from you. Your shoulders relax. "Then get to it, boy. We'll discuss punishment when you get home." 

That's not the sort of thing that's usually discussed. You're pretty sure he just means you'll be berated and punished without much discussion at all. You try to push that out of your mind, because thinking about it makes you feel mildly tingly in a few areas of your body. 

You turn towards the door, grabbing a suitable amount of change from the coffee table. Maybe it'll feel good to get out of the house for a little while.