Heavy snow had plagued Destiny City for a few days and it seemed to take ages for the clouds to clear. When they finally thinned, there was something more surprising than just the night sky: a glorious display of colorful light danced over Destiny City. A myriad of colors paints the sky, twisting colorfully. Auroras are uncommon in this area, but it’s something unique to see. Of course, ‘unique’ in Destiny City isn’t always a good thing…
He stared up at the sky for a moment, the dazzling aurora that glimmered behind the clouds all but calling for him. Auroras were not common in Destiny City. In fact, he was sure he'd never seen one before. Things had happened in past years around the winter holidays, that was true, but never an aurora. At least, as far as he'd been alive. This year was certainly different, though. He had changed, somewhat. He had joined a collection of powered individuals fighting leotarded terrorists in the streets, and he'd gotten smarter about sneaking out of school at night. He did... little with being out at night, but there was always the sky to captivate his attention when nothing else would. What he wouldn't give to be able to vanish into that sky, and space beyond, leaving behind the one thing that always made this holiday a black spot on his year.
His father.
A car rolled up in front of him, snow crunching beneath the tires, and Ren Carver sighed. Dread began to fill the young man and he swallowed thickly. He pulled his gaze from the sky to the black Mercedes idling at the curb. Seventeen years of age and his father still insisted on picking him up. To make sure his wayward son actually came home, no doubt. The rear passenger window rolled down silently.
"What are you standing there for, boy, get in." His father's voice was gruff and demanding, eliciting a wince from Ren. He opened the door and ducked inside the car. He tucked his backpack between his feet; two weeks of clothing, toiletries, and his laptop, the only things his father let him have at home. Ren glanced at the driver, an older gentleman in his sixties in dark pressed suit and a cap. He didn't recognize him. Damn.
"I told you to cut that braid off, boy," grumbled his father. Ren looked over at the auburn-haired man in his mid-forties. He and Ren looked all but nothing alike, except for the narrow maroon eyes. He was clean-shaven, with close cut hair and a tailored suit. He was not looking at Ren at the moment, staring at a tablet in his hand with charts and graphs. Sloan Carver was of average height and build, a beer gut contained within his dress shirt. Not necessarily physically intimidating, but was not the threat he posed.
"Keeping yourself out of trouble this semester your teachers tell me. Take up a sport finally, boy? Finally, pull your head out of the sky?" asked his father, his eyes meeting with Ren's for half a second. Ren dropped his eyes and stared at his bag.
"Just a lot of schoolwork this semester, sir. No time for sports," he replied, glancing out of the window. Streaks of colors broke through the clouds again.
His head cracked against the window, the impact rattling his brain in his skull. He hadn't expected the blow - though really, he should have been. It took him too long to regain his bearings.
"If that's true, why are you failing three classes?" His father's voice was low and quiet, a far deadlier indication of his father's mood than if he was screaming. Sloan barely looked disheveled. The driver did not look up. The accusation was shocking to Ren; he knew he was failing one class (he and Calculus did not get along ) but three?
"I was not... aware that I was failing three classes..." he said, cursing how his voice wavered. The time away at school had softened Ren. He'd become complacent. Damn.
"Your counselor informs me you are failing Calculus, Government, and Public Speaking," commented his father, rather offhandedly. He quickly did a fact check in his head. He was not failing Government; yes he debated in that class excessively, but he aced his tests and papers. He wasn't even taking public speaking.
"I am not taking public speaking this semester, and I've aced every test and paper in government," he said, steeling himself for another blow. Maybe his father would ignore the lack of a qualifier for calculus. Maybe he would be too engrossed in his tablet to--
"What of Calculus, boy?"
Damn.
"... I am failing that one..." hesitated Ren, bracing himself against the door with his arm.
WHAM.
This time he was ready for it and took the blow at half damage. His face stung where Sloan's backhand had connected, and his temple felt bruised against the door.
The car ride was silent for the remaining distance to the Carver house. The driver pulled up, leaving the car idling, and Sloan exited the car. Ren let out a breath he'd been holding and followed suit. A rough hand grabbed his hair, fingers digging into his scalp.
"You will fix this, boy, or there will be hell to pay, do you understand me?"
Ren attempted to nod and Sloan gripped his hair harder.
"Do you. Understand. Me. Boy."
"Yes, sir." Sloan released him and stormed into the house. Ren followed several paces behind. He turned left and went up the stairs, towards his old room. The door had been removed. The walls were barren and a stark white color. The stars and galaxies that once adorned the walls were nonexistent; the only remaining reminder of his mother smothered under layers of paint. It made the room feel empty, more like a jail cell than a safe space. That was the problem though, nothing was a safe space in his father's house anymore.
The room itself was sparse with a single twin bed, a desk with a lamp, a laundry bin, and the closet. Which was also missing doors.
Great. Just.... great.
At least the window wasn't bared. He let out a sigh and stared at the rainbow filled sky again.
It was going to be a long holiday...
[ WC: 1031]
