Apt Pupil 2
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Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
21
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Category:
1 through F › Apt Pupil
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
21
Views:
1,337
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Apt Pupil or any of the characters associated with it. They belong to Stephen King and Brian Singer. No money was made from this wiriting.
Chapter 5
Todd had just come out of the shower, his hair still lightly plastered to his face and his towel wrapped firmly around his waist. The nightmares had gotten worse; the latest one had sent him to the shower with the hopes of washing the memory off of himself. He had been doing reasonably well too, until he had run out of hot water. The douse of cold had shocked his system, putting him back on edge…not to mention that it had pissed him off. He was so ticked that he had even cut himself shaving. There was a small nick on the sensitive flesh just above his top lip.
He threw his clothes on. The denim stuck to the dampness still on his legs, but he ignored the discomfort. His deodorant was also thrown on. There was very little maintenance going into Todd Bowden, odd considering how many girls fawned over him.
He heard his parents downstairs and hurried to join them.
XXX
The holiday ritual wasn’t too bad. Without the fanfare that would have accompanied Christmas had Todd been even five years younger, gift exchange was relatively easy to choke down. Most of the things given to Todd were extremely practical: clothing, shoes, money. All were items that could be accepted without the phony smiles and the hollow “thank you.”
Only one gift earned Todd’s immediate disgust. It was a small paperback entitled Wowing the World: A Guide to Surviving College. He had cringed when he read the title. His parents’ didn’t noticed. They only saw the smile that he forced onto his face and heard the “thank you” aimed at Monica.
“I didn’t know if you’d like it.”
“I’m sure it’ll be a huge help,” the smile still plastered onto his face, feeling numb and strangely permanent.
(I hate you. I hate you. I hate you)
“Did you flip through it in the store? It even has a section…
(Blood gushing from his nose and busted mouth. Her eyes wide and pleading as Todd reaches behind him for the set of kitchen knives)
…discussing MLA and APA. This is amazing…
(I hate you. I hate you. I hate you)
…Thanks.”
XXX
Christmas dinner passed by in a blur of tastes and colours. Todd sat uninterested and somewhat rude. His parents’ chatter slipped into the background. Everything seemed a thousand miles away, giving Todd the impression of dreaming or watching television.
(His parents, the modernized Cleavers, were talking animatedly to each other, Mrs. Bowden/Cleaver occasionally stopping to refill her husband’s wine glass.
“You’ve really outdone yourself this year, honey.” Mr. Bowden/Cleaver said, rising his wine glass to his lips and drinking deeply. “This turkey is absolutely wonderful.”
“Thank you, dear,” she smiled maternally down at her husband.
Mr. Bowden/Cleaver smiled back before nightmarishly clamping his suddenly oversized teeth into dinner rolls and turkey legs. The sight was terrible and Todd shuddered. Mrs. Bowden/Cleaver only continued to smile; her face glowing, her eyes squinted and terrible. Involuntarily, Todd gripped the table. His fingers dug into white cotton and for one horrible second, he thought his fingers were going to get stuck there. Somehow they would be pulled into the table…Somehow he would be pulled deep into the wood…)
“Are you listening to me, Todd?”
“Sorry, I sorta blanked out,” he straightened, prying his fingers from the tablecloth. “What did you say?”
“I was just saying how wonderful it is to have you home again. The house felt so empty with you gone. If you come home for the summer, one of your Dad’s golf buddies said that he could get you a job. Why don’t you tell him about it, Honey?”
His Dad may have replied. Todd didn’t know. His gaze had fallen on the table somewhere during his mother’s declaration and he couldn’t seem to pull his attention away from the turkey platter. His hands suddenly felt sweaty and he didn’t need a mirror to tell him that there was a slight tick on his left eyelid again.
There on the table, inconspicuously tucked between the green beans and the Christmas turkey was the carving knife…
(Get a grip Todd…
…I left it in the graveyard…
…there was no graveyard…
…get a grip…
…get a…)
“Dad?” his eyes were still on the carving knife and he could feel his face burning.
“Yes, Todd?”
“Do you think that you can drive me back to school tomorrow?”
He threw his clothes on. The denim stuck to the dampness still on his legs, but he ignored the discomfort. His deodorant was also thrown on. There was very little maintenance going into Todd Bowden, odd considering how many girls fawned over him.
He heard his parents downstairs and hurried to join them.
XXX
The holiday ritual wasn’t too bad. Without the fanfare that would have accompanied Christmas had Todd been even five years younger, gift exchange was relatively easy to choke down. Most of the things given to Todd were extremely practical: clothing, shoes, money. All were items that could be accepted without the phony smiles and the hollow “thank you.”
Only one gift earned Todd’s immediate disgust. It was a small paperback entitled Wowing the World: A Guide to Surviving College. He had cringed when he read the title. His parents’ didn’t noticed. They only saw the smile that he forced onto his face and heard the “thank you” aimed at Monica.
“I didn’t know if you’d like it.”
“I’m sure it’ll be a huge help,” the smile still plastered onto his face, feeling numb and strangely permanent.
(I hate you. I hate you. I hate you)
“Did you flip through it in the store? It even has a section…
(Blood gushing from his nose and busted mouth. Her eyes wide and pleading as Todd reaches behind him for the set of kitchen knives)
…discussing MLA and APA. This is amazing…
(I hate you. I hate you. I hate you)
…Thanks.”
XXX
Christmas dinner passed by in a blur of tastes and colours. Todd sat uninterested and somewhat rude. His parents’ chatter slipped into the background. Everything seemed a thousand miles away, giving Todd the impression of dreaming or watching television.
(His parents, the modernized Cleavers, were talking animatedly to each other, Mrs. Bowden/Cleaver occasionally stopping to refill her husband’s wine glass.
“You’ve really outdone yourself this year, honey.” Mr. Bowden/Cleaver said, rising his wine glass to his lips and drinking deeply. “This turkey is absolutely wonderful.”
“Thank you, dear,” she smiled maternally down at her husband.
Mr. Bowden/Cleaver smiled back before nightmarishly clamping his suddenly oversized teeth into dinner rolls and turkey legs. The sight was terrible and Todd shuddered. Mrs. Bowden/Cleaver only continued to smile; her face glowing, her eyes squinted and terrible. Involuntarily, Todd gripped the table. His fingers dug into white cotton and for one horrible second, he thought his fingers were going to get stuck there. Somehow they would be pulled into the table…Somehow he would be pulled deep into the wood…)
“Are you listening to me, Todd?”
“Sorry, I sorta blanked out,” he straightened, prying his fingers from the tablecloth. “What did you say?”
“I was just saying how wonderful it is to have you home again. The house felt so empty with you gone. If you come home for the summer, one of your Dad’s golf buddies said that he could get you a job. Why don’t you tell him about it, Honey?”
His Dad may have replied. Todd didn’t know. His gaze had fallen on the table somewhere during his mother’s declaration and he couldn’t seem to pull his attention away from the turkey platter. His hands suddenly felt sweaty and he didn’t need a mirror to tell him that there was a slight tick on his left eyelid again.
There on the table, inconspicuously tucked between the green beans and the Christmas turkey was the carving knife…
(Get a grip Todd…
…I left it in the graveyard…
…there was no graveyard…
…get a grip…
…get a…)
“Dad?” his eyes were still on the carving knife and he could feel his face burning.
“Yes, Todd?”
“Do you think that you can drive me back to school tomorrow?”