Side Story - Victor

Disclaimer: brief mentions of child abuse

1958

Victor Crown knew what awaited him once he reached his home. Home. As if that cold, too perfect and trim place could ever be his home. The nice things within it deceived, its warm yellow light did nothing to quell the loneliness of it all.

The rich upholstery, the shiny vases and the rich foods on the tables were poor comfort for a boy who felt like he didn’t belong in the family he was born into. His name held power, Victor, Victorious, Winner and King. A curse placed on his head since before he came out from his mother.

He didn’t want it. He wanted his head to only hold his hair. He wanted to feel as light as the birds he sketches from outside his window. His father knew this and he made sure Victor knew that he knew.

He was reminded in every stitch of clothing, in the cars he was driven into school, in the tutors his father hired to teach him Latin, French, dance, math and rhetoric. The trips to Paris, London, Tokyo and Rome repeated it.

It was like a collar crushing his windpipe, a way no child could live. Sometimes he needed to pull at it for a moment, to be able to swallow freely the air that everyone else breathed.

That’s why when Ashley Bennett suggested that they skip school and go to the park to read comics he had said yes. They had entered the school, went through it and escaped from the back doors.

The thrill of doing something out of the ordinary, an act that disrupted the daily routine of his young life and foreseeable future distracted him from thinking about the immediate consequences of the upcoming afternoon.

They had gone to the park, stopping at the dime store to buy some sweets. They gorged themselves on Peeps, bubble gum cigarettes and chocolate gold coins while flipping through sticky Captain America comics.

They left the bench full of wrappers, gone to play on the monkey bars, the swings, the slides and before he knew it, the school day was over. He could hear the school bell chime in the wind. In those days the town was much quieter, he would remember years later.

After parting ways with Ashley, he very slowly walked the familiar path home. He only ever took this path as many of the others had him go through the thick of the woods which he was warned off from like the other kids in town. Although at this moment he would rather take his chances with a ghost than his father.

The boy closes the heavy door behind him. He steps into the foyer, right under the glistening chandelier, the encrusted diamonds making the walls shine with thousands of impressions. “Victor.”

The soft voice had come from his right, from the parlour room with the door slightly cracked open. He could see the flickering firelight. He grips his backpack as he walks to the door and lightly pushes it open.

The door swings inward to reveal his mother sitting in her knitting chair. Her hair is curled about her neck, all but one strand perfectly in place with that hairspray she uses that makes him sneeze. Her pink lips stretch into a warm smile and she holds out a hand.

Victor comes closer and falls into his mother’s embrace. The smell of cinnamon caresses his nostrils and he feels his hammering heart warm. To him, she’s like the feeling of being wrapped in warm blankets while listening to the patter of rain against the windows.

His father coughs.

Victor peeks out from under his mother’s chin and sees his father sitting across from them. Crassus sits with both legs firmly planted on the floor, his big hands curled at the front of the armrests, a newspaper folded in his lap.

His father is a large man, not fat but tall and broad-shouldered. His dark and ironed suits strain against his upper arms. A stamped gold ring glistens red on his pinky finger. Crassus’ eyes are hidden beneath the flickering fire on the lenses of his glasses.

“Your mother received a call from the school, your principal has accused you of truancy. Is that true son?”

Victoria rubs her son’s little arm up and down. The boy stares at his father, his eyes beginning to water. His little hand bunches up the fabric of his mother’s dress. Crassus lifts up his forefinger and coaxes his son to come to him.

“Oh, darling, must you?” Victoria asks, her voice pleading.

But it’s of no use. When Crassus Crown decides something must be done, there is no power on Earth that can prevent it. “Father, it’s not true” Victor whimpers, the feeling of hot tears coat his cheeks.

Crassus with his fire eyes, again beckons his son. Victoria rips her dress from her son’s fingers and lightly pushes him towards her husband, “go on my love” she says in a sweet but shaky voice.

Victor stands in the middle of the two, legs paralyzed as he’s caught in the fiery beams of his father’s gaze. Crassus takes his son by the arms and drapes him over his knees. One hand flattened against the boy’s small back and the other rolling the newspaper.

That night, after he hated cried until he could only gasp in the cold bath made to soothe his aching body, he was dressed in a dark suit and led down to the dining room. They had lamb, Victoria serving her husband, then her son and finally herself with what little scraps remained. Her stomach would growl that night as she read her son a bedtime story, trying to get him to look at her. Crassus was pleased when he would hear the noises of hunger from her stomach, he had made it clear he wouldn’t tolerate a cow for a wife.

Victor Crown made two promises that night. One, that he would never skip another day of school for the rest of his life. Two, that he would be a better father to his own children.

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I never do have a set day for when I release content, do I? At least I’ve done it every week. I’ll be better when it’s summer vacation