#and i live in accom so we’re just sharing one room and he was there for a week before break and after now too it’s like i’ve just been on

[derogatorydennis]

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[google-plexed]

Little Rebel

Random First Line Prompt: “He was going back to a place he’d hoped he would never see again.”

He was going back to a place he’d hoped he would never see again.

Carter could see the familiar streetlight from all the way down the street. He used to spy the light from his window after he was already in bed, the brightness muted but still present through his thick, dark curtains.

Carter shot up in bed with his heart racing. He quickly tried to control his breathing lest someone hear him. His father said he was too old to be reacting to nightmares like this. Mom was gone, and she wasn’t coming back, and he didn’t need her to hold him and help him breathe.

1, 2, 3, in...

He couldn’t need her.

1, 2, 3, 4, out...

He couldn’t need her because he didn’t have her. Needing what you don’t have is a weakness.

His eyes darted around the room, looking for something, anything, to focus on. Through the curtains, he spied a dim beam of light.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, in...

Carter exhaled.

The sound of his footsteps in the night resembled the beat of a drum sounding off a funeral march. The others had offered to go with him- after all, they ALL needed this money, if they were going to be able to survive. But he insisted, he needed to be the one to do this, and do this alone.

He hadn’t seen him since before the Administration took over. He hadn’t seen him since before the Administration was even a twinkle in any dictator-to-be’s eye. The Administration had come on so suddenly that his father would have brushed off any concerns Carter would have had at the time. A potential dictatorship probably wouldn’t have bothered his father anyway- they had enough money to secure a comfortable position for the Avery name. And while Carter had no proof that this had occurred, the street looked untouched, as though time had stood still the night he left.

The streetlight flickered as Carter dropped onto the bench, crushing his duffel bag to his chest. He should go, he should run before his father notices that he’s gone. But first, he needed a minute.

The topic of conversation for dinner that night had been LGBTQ+ rights. Not that his father cared, he just felt that sexuality was a frivolous emotion and that “these people set themselves up for discrimination by announcing it to the world.”

Maybe it was because he’d caught himself staring at that guy in his English class more and more. Maybe it was just the straw that broke the camel’s back. Either way, here he was, catching his breath. 

He needed to let go. He couldn’t need his father’s approval. Needing what you can’t have is a weakness, after all.

With one last look at the house he called home, Carter stood up and disappeared into the night. 

Now Carter was at the front door. The lights were on- someone was home. His father was home- he would’ve died before letting Avery family property fall into the hands of a stranger. 

He knocked.

His father opened the door- a first for him, considering that it had always been the maid who opened the door. Perhaps his father hadn’t remained completely unaffected by the political climate. 

His father wordlessly moved aside, allowing Carter to enter.

Carter wasn’t sure what was going to happen now. His father was hardly one to share his feelings, but he had always been direct in what he was thinking. How would he address the three year period they’d been separated? And how would Carter work up the nerve to ask him for money?

His father looked him up and down. Carter held his breath. 

“You’re looking tidy.”

“Yeah.” Old habits die hard, even in the face of political dystopia, and his father had always demanded perfection in his appearance.

“Come have a drink.” His father led him to the kitchen. Now, this was a familiar scene- even at 17, Carter’s father had him drinking. For networking purposes, of course- Carter knew how to make drinks and how to hold hid liquor should he ever have been invited to enjoy a brandy. His father would have heavily disapproved had Carter applied these skills to a keg of beer.

Carter sat at the island, drumming his fingers against the counter as he waited. His father’s back was to him, reaching for bottles. This was always as informal as Carter and his father got- the drumming of fingers, the clinking of the ice, and the soft, almost soothing humming...

Wait.

Carter had never heard his father hum. Was he going senile in his old age? Carter hadn’t even been gone that long, in the grand scheme of things.

“Father,” Carter started, as his father turned to him with the drinks. Breathe. “I came here for a reason.”

“I figured,” his father said softly- he must have said it softly, because his father doesn’t murmur, ever. He handed him the drink.

“We- I need money,” Carter corrected himself. This would be hard enough without throwing people his father had never met into the mix. “We’re running out of supplies.”

“Supplies?” his father took a sip, beckoning for Carter to do the same. “Why would you need supplies?”

Carter pursed his lips. He couldn’t really be sure if his father supported the Administration. He might’ve said too much. “It’s getting harder to live out there.”

That wasn’t a lie. The Administration had taken over many homes and destroyed others for resources or even just to intimidate the residents. As a result, housing was more expensive. Due to technological innovation, thousands of people were laid off from their jobs. Thousands more were underemployed. And on top of everything else, there was the Virus, which seemed to crop up in random communities and then take them out by storm. Most scientists were employed by the government, and the rest “mysteriously disappeared,” but even if they did find a cure, no one was going to be able to afford it.

Carter took a sip of his drink. It tasted different from what he remembered. Maybe bargaining with the Administration taught his father some new tricks.

“You don’t need supplies,” his father replied. “You’re here now.”

Carter’s head jerked up so fast he felt a little dizzy. “I’m not here permanently.” He could hear the challenge in his tone. People were depending on him this time, he couldn’t let his father control him. 

“It’s like you said, it’s harder to live out there. Why else would you come here?”

“I need money,” Carter reiterated through gritted teeth. His head was spinning now. 

“You must’ve known I wouldn’t give it to you. You see how I’m living? You’re no fool- everything comes at a price. And even if it weren’t so, you left me years ago. So, I ask again, why did you come here?”

Now suffering a full-blown headache, Carter gasped out, “We were out of options!”

“We?” There was a wild gleam in his father’s eye. At least, Carter thought so- spots were starting to appear in his vision. “You have accomplices!”

“Accom-?”

“I’ll tell you why you came here,” his father interrupted. “You came because you wanted your father’s approval. You needed it.” Then his father pulled at his own dark hair until it came off, revealing a full head of red hair. “You were weak for it. And now, you’ll never get it.” Smirking, his father-with-red-hair pulled out a badge with a very familiar insignia. “But that’s alright, little rebel. I have you now, and soon, very soon, I’ll have your friends too.”

The last thing Carter remembered before passing out was seeing the streetlight flicker out through the kitchen window.