Silver Bullets n' Roses - 6. Revelations

"Where the hell have you been!?"

Those were the first words Larry screamed at him as soon as Matt walked through the door. Not "Good evening, son, how was your day?" or even, "Do you mind kindly telling me where you were at this hour?" Even so - Matt glanced at the clock over the TV - it wasn't even four o' clock. He was usually home by about three-fifteen, and he would have called and told Larry where he was, but he wasn't allowed a cell phone. That wasn't his fault.

Whenever he was even a few minutes late, Larry had a cow. It didn't matter what excuse Matt gave - bus broke down, traffic - Larry always figured Matt was selling himself to older men on the streets. Yes, he did say that out loud once.

Matt sometimes wondered if Larry was more worried about Matt's safety or his own image when it came to that.

He stared at his father blankly for a moment, wondering what went wrong in the eight years since mom died. Why did Larry hate him so much? Matt opened his mouth, ready to tell Larry that the bus got caught in traffic, but the word that left his mouth had nothing to do with that.

"Why?"

Larry, who was sitting in his throne in front of the TV, finally looked up at him, eyebrow raised. "Why what?"

"Why...why do you hate me? What is your deal? You scream at me as soon as I walk into the house about where I've been, and you really could care less anyway. You didn't care when the kids at school-" He swallowed hard, determined not to break his Code of Silence. "-picked on me about what I am. You didn't care when you were kicking the shit out of me when I was ten because you got a phone call from school. You didn't care about me when I was still mourning over...over what happened to Mom. All you cared about was your next drink."

During this little speech, Larry remained silent until Matt got to the part about his mother. At that point he stood up, his eyes glittering with either tears or anger. "Don't ever talk about her in front of me again."

"Why not? It's been eight years, Dad. Someone's got to keep her memory alive."

As Larry advanced on him, Matt realized something vital was missing from this conversation: fear. He rarely talked back to his father, and when he did he was usually shaking with fear over what he was going to do to him. Still exhilarated from his run with Severin, Matt didn't feel like flinching away as he dad got closer to him.

Behind his father's bulk, Beth was peeking out of the kitchen doorway, her face alight with some sort of sick curiosity. He stared at her for a moment, zoning out as the tiny, rational part of him screamed, "What the hell are you doing!?"

He ignored it to listen to what his father was saying now: "She doesn't deserve it."

Now that got him moving. Matt retreated, but only to grab a vase off a nearby counter, his hands shaking. "H-how could you say that?" His voice didn't come out as strongly as he wanted to.

"I never told you the whole story." Larry was sneering now, but it quickly turned to a look of pure rage as he continued: "She got hit by the drunk driver because she was running away from me."

Matt nearly dropped the vase in shock, but he nodded for Larry to continue.

"We'd been having trouble for almost a year before it happened. One day she decided she was too much of a cunt to deal with it anymore. So she up and left. Planned on getting herself an apartment first then she would come back and get you."

He had stopped advancing now, his mind lost in memories. "You look just like her. I can't stand it." His voice was harsh, but his eyes betrayed sadness. "The bitch deserved it."

With a grunt, Matt threw the vase with all his strength. If the vase was a bullet, Matt's arm was the business-end of a gun: the power of his throw would have made any baseball player jealous. If his aim hadn't been off, Larry would have been dead, or at least seriously hurt. The vase slammed into the wall with an astonishing crash in an explosion of broken glass, making Beth cry out.

Broken glass. A memory floated to the surface in Matt's mind...

A seven-year-old Matt sat at the dining room table as his parents screamed at each other on either side of him. He still couldn't quite remember what was said or why they were arguing, but he distinctly remembered his father finally losing his temper.

With a huge sweep of his meaty forearm, Larry cleared half the table of Mom's dead mother's fineries: glasses, plates, all the like went tumbling to the hard floor. An explosion of glass went in all directions across the room.

At first there was utter silence as Larry sat and seethed and Matt looked at his mother. He would never forget her expression. All the color had drained from it, a look of absolute horror marring her pretty features.

Matt tried to smooth things over. "It's okay, Mommy, I can glue them back together..."

There was a long moment before she could speak. "Nothing can fix this, sweetie." She got up so fast she knocked her chair over, directing her next words to Larry: "That's it, Larry, I can't take any more of this."

She stormed out of the room and ran upstairs. Larry took off after her, pleading for one more chance. He looked so different then. More muscle and less fat, neater hair.

Matt stayed at the table, shocked into silence.

His mother came running back downstairs a few minutes later, a bag overflowing with random clothes and accessories. She glanced at Matt as if just realizing he was still there and grabbed his hand. "You're coming with me, honey. Don't be scared."

Larry had already caught up with her and tore him away from her, nearly yanking Matt's arm out of its socket. It was probably the first time Matt could remember his father ever hurting him. "Oh no, you're not taking my son, Caroline. Not on your goddamn life."

She looked at her husband with desperation in her gaze before turning it to look Matt in the eye. She got down on her knees and cupped his face. "Don't worry, Matthew. I'm coming back for you. Just wait. I love you, okay?" She kissed him on the forehead, and with a slam of the door and a whiff of mom-perfume she was gone.

He never saw her alive again.

He had always hated the sound of broken glass. Now he knew why.

It was all the truth. Matt could remember it perfectly now.

In the silence that ensued after his outburst, both Beth and Larry just stared at him in shock. Larry recovered first, already swearing.

"Why you little..."

Larry came at him like a freight train. The first blow went to the face. He was really pissed: Larry never aimed for the face. Matt fell the floor, not even bothering to fight, overwhelmed with immense sadness.

The third was the last he could remember before blacking out.

*           *           *

Matt woke up to his alarm clock the next morning, sprawled across his bed with all his clothes on. He wasn't sure how he got there. Maybe Larry or Beth had dragged him up there.

He tried to move. Everything hurt: his face, his stomach, all the way to the roots of his hair and his teeth. The last time he took such a beating was The Incident at the beginning of the year. Trying not to let his mind wander to it, Matt distracted himself with pain as he forced himself to get up.

His legs had been replaced with spaghetti overnight, and his stomach heaved as soon as he was upright. Swallowing hard to force down the urge to vomit, Matt staggered to the bathroom to look at himself.

Huge black eye. He'd expected that. Brushing his hair over his face, the problem was solved. Thank God for long hair.

Shakily, he lifted the hem of his shirt. If his nose and throat weren't clogged from sobbing, he would have given a whistle. There was an almost perfect boot imprint along his ribs. A pair of size 12's that he knew well.

Then there was his face in the mirror. His mother's face.

Something broke inside of him. He slid to the floor, and - even though deep down, he knew it was gross - pressed his face against the cool tiles. It was like heaven against his black eye, but more importantly it offered him a makeshift bed when he was too weary to get to his own. He lay there for a good ten minutes, his mother's last words going through his head over and over again.

Beth never called for him to get up, even when he was running late. In fact, she stayed quiet and out of sight all that morning. With Larry gone to work, the house was blessedly quiet until Matt went to school. It was the calm after the storm. Usually after a big fight little was said between anyone, and after a day, life would go on as usual.

Except something had changed this time. Memories had been dug up that should have been left buried.

Matt walked to school stiffly. He knew he must have been a strange sight, staring straight ahead, black tears of eyeliner running down his face, hair a mess. He didn't care. He knew some people might see he was wearing the same clothes as yesterday. He didn't care. He didn't care about anyone or anything. How could he when all he wanted to do was break down and cry for a few more hours?

The school parking lot was already empty. Everyone was inside in their respective classes, going about their business. Matt didn't want to rush into first period and attempt to listen to Mrs. Worester drone on about the Bill of Rights. Why was he learning about petty things like American History? None of that applied to his situation or real life in general. Why wasn't there a class on "Maintaining a Non-Dysfunctional Family 101"? Or "Getting Over a Death"? Or, hell, "How to Be a Werewolf: The Basics"?

Matt lost all his resolve then. He dropped down on the steps leading to the main entrance, just begging to someone or something for an extra few minutes to himself. He couldn't face them yet. Matt cupped his head in his hands and tried to think happy thoughts. OK, he was five years old again, on the park swings with Mom and trying to see who could get the highest...

"Tsk, tsk. First skipping, next robbing a bank."

Severin. Oddly, Matt wasn't too bothered by his presence for once. He glanced up at him and mustered a weak smile. "Hey."

"Whoa, you look like shit."

"Thanks." Matt moved his head a bit so his hair curtained in front of his face, lowering his head back onto his knees.

"What happened to your face?" Severin's voice was tight. Probably worrying about attacks of the furry kind.

Crap. Guess his hair wasn't as full-proof as he thought it was. Quick, think of something. "Nothing...just ran into some thugs last night."

"But I walked you home."

"Late last night, after I snuck out. Yeah. Some guys gave me trouble, roughed me up some. It's no big deal. Really." Even he thought his words sounded untruthful, and Severin must have as well, but he didn't ask any more questions.

"Look at me." Reluctantly, Matt obeyed. Severin bent down in front of him, cupping Matt's face in his hands. Matt kept his eyes closed, not wanting to stare into those grey pools. "Stop and breathe for a second," Severin ordered.

Matt obeyed, and instantly the pain of the black eye disappeared as if it had never been there. "What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything. Another thing we werewolves can do." Severin released him, offering a tiny smile. "After the first few times, the healing will come automatically."

"That's...cool," Matt breathed, touching his face.

Severin chuckled slightly. "Make room."

Matt slid a few inches to the left, and the sharp pain that emanated from his ribs must have shown in his face. Severin lifted the hem of Matt's shirt before he could protest.

"Shit," he breathed. "Matt-"

Matt shook his head as he covered his face with his hand, shaking his head to signal he couldn't speak. To his immense surprise, Severin reached over and draped his arm around Matt's shoulder without hesitation.

For what felt like a long time, they sat there together, saying nothing. Matt changed his mind: alone was the very last thing he wanted to be.

"He's looking at you again."

"I know."

"Why don't you talk to him?"

"Because I'm embarrassed."

"About what?"

"It's a long story, Karyn." Matt finally managed to look up from his delicious meal of something unidentifiable to meet Severin's intense gaze from across the cafeteria. It wasn't a concerned or angry look. It was unreadable at its most accurate description, but it looked like Severin was thinking about something. Matt stared back at him for a moment before returning to his lunch.

He had cleaned himself up a bit before going to second period but Karyn was more attentive than he gave her credit for. The wave of questions didn't stop until he directly told her he wouldn't tell her anything until he was ready. Even then she just stared at him like she was expecting something.

Matt sighed, deciding it was time to come clean. Or at least partially clean. "Um...to make a long story short, me and my dad got into a fight. I was a blubbering mess, and...Sean...talked to me for a bit. Now that I'm okay, I'm embarrassed."

"Why?"

"I don't like crying."

"My mommy says that crying is never something to be ashamed of."

For a moment, Matt stared at her. Sometimes she said things that reminded him that her mind was a few years behind her body. This was one of those times. He felt a wave of immense pity for her for a split second, and then distracted himself by looking at Severin again.

Donna, the popular girl that had latched herself to Severin's arm since yesterday, said something to him. Severin turned his attention to her - somewhat reluctantly, Matt noted - and smiled at whatever she was saying.

"I can go get him over here," said Karyn, about to stand.

"No!" Mat practically dove across the table to stop her. "He wouldn't come anyway. You don't need to. If he really wanted to say anything to me, he'd be over here."

Severin suddenly glanced his way, as if he had heard Matt. Being a werewolf, he might very well have. Just great. Matt sighed.

Matt went through the day in a sort of depressed stupor. The classes seemed to breeze by and he was taking in even less than he usually did. It was like he was in a provisional stasis of ADHD, with words going through one ear and out the other. He didn't want to write out worksheets and read articles for English; he wanted to lie down and go to sleep. Of course, that wasn't possible without going home.

What could be done about Larry was still up for debate. Mat really, really didn't want to come in contact with him for as long as possible, but damn...he had to eat. Maybe he could hope Larry had taken out most of his frustrations on Beth...

No. That was a horrible thing to think. Matt was shocked at his own thoughts. He would never wish something that bad on someone else - even though there had been a few times when he had wanted to hit Beth himself. He'd been there. It was somewhere he'd only wish on his worst enemy like...Roman. Or Gabriel, he added as an afterthought.

It was pathetic that he feared a human much more than he did a powerful bad-guy werewolf. In his mind, Gabriel could only hurt him, or kill him. Roman had already killed him, but from the inside, and he was slowly eating his way through Matt's inner core without even saying anything to him. That alone made him just as, if not more terrifying than teeth and claws.

"There you are, Matt. I've been looking all over for you."

Me? Matt slowed his pace enough to let Severin catch up. "I didn't know you were looking for me. Where's Donna?" he added with a hint of petulance.

Severin furrowed his eyebrows, as if confused. "Oh, her. Ditched her."

Matt wasn't sure why that lifted his spirits a bit, but it did. "What did you want me for?"

"Your body, duh," Severin replied irritably.

Matt made a choking noise.

"You're going to come with me to Lycansbro." It was more of a demand then a request. "I think it's time for history lesson."

"Sev, I can't..."

"Come on. I'll have you back before anyone will notice."

"But-"

Severin gave him literal puppy dog eyes.

Unable to resist the demands of a hot guy even if he wanted to, Matt sighed. "Lead the way."