registry

[farkle]

POSITIVE	NEUTRAL	NEGATIVE
SIGNIFICANT	SIGNIFICANT	SIGNIFICANT
▷ meeting riley ▷ maya hart enters the scene ▷ becoming a prefect	▷ finding fluffy ▷ MEMORY :| ▷ MEMORY :|	▷ parents fighting take one ▷ first christmas alone ▷ realizing they'll be separated
NEUTRAL	NEUTRAL	NEUTRAL
▷ stuart at the train station ▷ MEMORY :) ▷ MEMORY :)	▷ first day of primary ▷ lucas friar and a boat ▷ MEMORY :|	▷ stuart's dismay ▷ MEMORY :( ▷ MEMORY :(
TRIVIAL	TRIVIAL	TRIVIAL
▷ MEMORY :) ▷ MEMORY :) ▷ MEMORY :)	▷ running away to the matthews ▷ MEMORY :| ▷ MEMORY :|	▷ MEMORY :( ▷ MEMORY :( ▷ MEMORY :(
0/?	0/?	0/?

Comments

[farkle]

Memory: 7, "Satisfaction"
Type: SigNeg
What it is:

You're back in your family home. Tomorrow is Christmas and you know the Matthews will be coming over and some your friends. There'd be a lot of people here and for the first time in weeks you'd get to see Riley. That thought is what helped you last through the long week of family activities. You would see your girlfriend-- you're practical fiance in all but name-- and even if the two of you couldn't be alone that was never important. Seeing her had always made you feel better and there'd be plenty of people here to do stuff with.

But now you dread the idea of tomorrow at all. Instead, you've found yourself in the personal library attached to your room. You're flipping through books, trying to pay attention to them, before snapping them shut and pacing across the room just to grab another one. You're head's pounding as you go through one too many thoughts. Categorizing elements, stars, trying to take in the new information, and trying to numb out the memory from the evening before that won't seem to sink away.

Because you know you'll pay for that. You're supposed to be obedient and never disagree. You knew it was stupid, but there was no way he was going to talk down about that.

You can't leave yet through magic. You'd be arrested for underage magic, but you hold on by telling yourself that's only two months away. You'll be seventeen then and you could run away-- even with a year of school left. But right now you were stuck here and your family home is far enough away from the city it would take a full day to walk there. He'd definitely find you by then and things would be worse.

So you wait and think. You force yourself to remember that you said the truth and it was important and your mind won't change--

"Farkle."

You suck in a breath. Closing the book in your hands shakily, you turn to the man in the doorway. It's your father, polished as always, and with the same tight smile. A smile that tells you everything: It's his smile that you've disobeyed with him and that he's unhappy with you. Your father is all about image, though, and aside from furrowed brows that smile is all he'll go to mere his features.

"Father," you try amicably, forcing the politeness into your tone. At least after your years of etiquette training you could do that effortlessly. He steps in, for the first time you don't step back. Your father notes that with an arched brow, but you continue to give him a steady look. So much of you wants to look at the floor, but now you're nearly an adult and you have to do this one day.

"About last night," he states coolly. Finally your eyes dart away and you continue with the same forced politeness, "Yes? Was something wrong?" Somehow you're speaking with sass. That should make things worse, but you've numbed yourself. You don't think or feel you're just there as you feel him come closer. "You know you did something wrong, Farkle," Stuart continues, tone borderline unimpressed.


You pause minutely. "I don't think I did," you recount and your father's face darkens, "It's my life. It's not as if I'd be destroying your image." Your voices weakens, but you try to keep as firm as possible. "Do you really think that, son?" He questions and you give a slight nod. Your father shakes his head. He takes another step forward and you don't even need to question where this is leading.

He would never hit you where anyone else could see. Or do anything too noticeable that people would notice. A sprained wrist or broken rib, maybe. And you could heal the former. Sometimes, he'd use magic if he felt you needed that punishment. But it was important to ensure no one could tell because Stuart Minkus was all about showing perfections. No one would believe you if you said.

"You're mother's out getting the rest of the presents for tomorrow," he keeps a tight-lipped smile, "why don't we talk about this?"

You lick your lips and hesitate. You can't combat this with magic, you're barely even physical, and it really would be worse. You know that, but you're body vibrates to do something and before you think about it you suddenly pipe up. "That's not what I'd call talking," you say voice quiet at first before picking up, "but I guess you have difficulties with intelligent de--" Suddenly you close your mouth with a wince but the damage is already done. You know he's pulling out his wand before you see it.

Even if you wanted to defend there's no way to do so before your body arches with a searing pain. The torture spell. Your eyes roll back and you seize up on the floor. You almost forget what breathing is as the world goes dark. But he casts another spell and you grow alert once more. He wasn't going to give you the comfort of going to bed just yet. And so it goes on, but at the end... At the end you can't help but feel satisfied at standing up for what you felt.

It was one of the first times you did so. And it was to him. Even as you force yourself to not get upset, the satisfaction remains. Even if you have to figure out how to tell the others not to touch you tomorrow.