Monachopsis

Chapter 20

CW: Violence, abuse, descriptive death, drugs, drug abuse mentioned, arguments

Ranboo kicked at the rocks covering the sidewalk, watching them fly far ahead of them or into the street. The rocks were mostly grey, probably coming from flowerbeds and toddlers coming through from the backroads. Kicking the gravel helped him calm himself slightly. 'Ok. I need to go home and confront dad now that I'm calmer.' Ranboo thought as he took a sip of his Fanta. They rubbed their arm in an attempt to soothe their anxiety as their house—no, their old house—came into view. 'Here it is.' Ranboo paused in the driveway. He forced himself to place one foot in front of the other until he was in the garage, reaching for the door handle. "Here goes nothing." They exhaled.

"Dad, we need to talk about-" Ranboo shrieked. The Fanta bottle fell out of his hands, splattering all over Ranboo's legs and the floor. "Mom?" They squeaked. She was laying on the floor, in a pile of...Her face was swollen, pieces of glass piercing her lip and left eye. Her hair looked like it'd been tugged on, with knots formed and glass bits slipping in them. Her hands were red, but not from the...On the contrary, her face was whiter then the bleached tile, now stained with...

'blood.'

"Dad, what the-" Ranboo's voice choked as he realized what happened. "Mark, you killed mom!"

"Don't you dare call me Mark, you jackass!"

"Well you're not my damn dad anymore!"

"Yes I am!" Markus stopped his heel on the floor like a toddler, as he swung a glass whiskey bottle in circles.

"No! How drunk are you?! You fucking killed mom!" Their voiced quivered as tears started building up.

"How old are you, 10?! Don't fucking cuss at me, cunt!"

"I'm 11, and I'm done with your bullshit! I'm calling the police!" Ranboo grabbed his phone and could've sworn that his mother's mouth twitched into a frown for a split second. The next second they were holding their wrist as it stung, kneeing as they tried to inspect the irritation. His phone hit the floor and the glass shattered, tumbling across the tile. Suddenly, they felt fingers pressed tightly onto their jawline, the palm placing on their jowls before jerking their head upwards. He was met with Markus' angry eyes and a bat in his other hand. The whiskey bottle his dad had been swinging mere moments ago was near Ranboo's side, his uninjured wrist feeling it's presence millimeters away.

"I'm gonna fucking kill you!" Markus' nails dug into Ranboo's face, but they showed no response. Instead, Ranboo laughed.

"Oh, kill me, motherfucker. I don't wanna deal with you anyways."

Ranboo's head slightly fell as Mark pulled his hand away to swing the bat with both. As Ranboo lifted their head they saw the bat coming at them. Putting both hands up—the burn enough to make him cry normally—he put force back on the bat, holding his father off. Letting go with their left hand, they grabbed the bottle as the bat came closer.

The bottle hit Mark in the forehead, and he pulled the bat from his dad as he fell backwards. Mark hit the wall with a thud whilst Ranboo slid into the center of the room with the bat in hand. Shakily they stood and walked towards Markus.

Ranboo lifted the bat this time.

"You!"

"Don't!"

"Have!"

"The!"

"Damn!"

"Right!!!"