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Description
Random thoughts lead to random stories. Viola.

I awoke to the sound of screaming. My dry throat told me it was me, And my screams were the ones alone and loud in the night. I managed to make myself stop. I pulled the blankets tight around my sweating face. Padding to the restroom a few minutes later, i realized i wasn't the only one awake. My parents were yelling. "It's your fault you know! If it wasn't for what you did to him, this wouldn't be happening. He's going to remember. Someday. Somehow. Even if i have to help. And soon enough, Soon. He'll know. Know why subconciously, deep down, he hates you after all. You selfish bastard. Leave. Ple-" My mother's voice, Cut off by what i recognized as broken sobs. Did? ...What did my dad do? Especially to make her cry... She's so strong. So ready to take it all. She always has been. My mother is the strongest woman, hell. Person, that i know.

My father hurt her when he left. Randomly, some days, he'll return. Arriving for dinner, dressed nicely and acting as if he never left. And we're left here. Alone, waiting for the next check. If it didn't come, it was okay. Because my job at the resturaunt around the corner was enough to pay for the low-income apartment we lived in. They stopped, and i heard the door slam. Now that he was gone, i left my room, door open. I picked the lock to the bathroom. My mom was there.

"Mom?"

"GO!! Get out of here, you don't need to see this."

"And you don't need to hide it." After i cleaned the bleeding woman's face, she turned to me.

"And. I'm sorry. Goodnight, Darling." As her hand reached up and landed on my head, her lips on my cheek, I grabbed the frail wrist, and held very tight.

"But we need to talk first."

"Not now. It can wait."

"Then i want to know my father's name." She looked down shaking her head from left to right. "I want to know. Hell. I deserve to know. So i want to know, and i'll leave the rest alone for a while. At least until i really want to know. Or need to."

"Okay. But just settle for the name, okay? At least for a few more months."

My life looked me in the eyes, and told me the most unsettling thing i've heard in years.

"You're father's name was...I mean is....Robert." I squeezed her wrist, encouragingly. "But we..*sniff*... We always called him Bert. Bert McCracken."

Before i could reply, she ran. Out of the room, and locked herself in her room. I didn't feel the need to comfort her. I knew my own plan. But i never thought i would see what i did when i was staring at my computer screen ten minutes later.

Google had better be lying.

Description
Random thoughts lead to random stories. Viola.

I awoke to the sound of screaming. My dry throat told me it was me, And my screams were the ones alone and loud in the night. I managed to make myself stop. I pulled the blankets tight around my sweating face. Padding to the restroom a few minutes later, i realized i wasn't the only one awake. My parents were yelling. "It's your fault you know! If it wasn't for what you did to him, this wouldn't be happening. He's going to remember. Someday. Somehow. Even if i have to help. And soon enough, Soon. He'll know. Know why subconciously, deep down, he hates you after all. You selfish bastard. Leave. Ple-" My mother's voice, Cut off by what i recognized as broken sobs. Did? ...What did my dad do? Especially to make her cry... She's so strong. So ready to take it all. She always has been. My mother is the strongest woman, hell. Person, that i know.

My father hurt her when he left. Randomly, some days, he'll return. Arriving for dinner, dressed nicely and acting as if he never left. And we're left here. Alone, waiting for the next check. If it didn't come, it was okay. Because my job at the resturaunt around the corner was enough to pay for the low-income apartment we lived in. They stopped, and i heard the door slam. Now that he was gone, i left my room, door open. I picked the lock to the bathroom. My mom was there.

"Mom?"

"GO!! Get out of here, you don't need to see this."

"And you don't need to hide it." After i cleaned the bleeding woman's face, she turned to me.

"And. I'm sorry. Goodnight, Darling." As her hand reached up and landed on my head, her lips on my cheek, I grabbed the frail wrist, and held very tight.

"But we need to talk first."

"Not now. It can wait."

"Then i want to know my father's name." She looked down shaking her head from left to right. "I want to know. Hell. I deserve to know. So i want to know, and i'll leave the rest alone for a while. At least until i really want to know. Or need to."

"Okay. But just settle for the name, okay? At least for a few more months."

My life looked me in the eyes, and told me the most unsettling thing i've heard in years.

"You're father's name was...I mean is....Robert." I squeezed her wrist, encouragingly. "But we..*sniff*... We always called him Bert. Bert McCracken."

Before i could reply, she ran. Out of the room, and locked herself in her room. I didn't feel the need to comfort her. I knew my own plan. But i never thought i would see what i did when i was staring at my computer screen ten minutes later.

Google had better be lying.