“I Can Fix Him” Okay But I Can Fix The Narrative. I Can Recontextualize Events And Bring Out Depths

don't care + didn't ask + your eyeliner is crooked

I CAN’T STOP LAUGHING AT MY EMAIL RIGHT NOW

WHOOOOOOO LET THEM DO THIS

Memory - Sinclair Brothers

fic based off of this little idea i had <3 just the boys when they were younger!

WORD COUNT: 3050

WARNINGS: angst, general sadness underneath happy moments, abuse mention/slight description, emotional/physical/mental abuse, neglect, young!sinclairs, pre-movie, not a warning but vincent signs but idk if i make it super clear all the way through it, dead animal mention, animal cruelty? the animal is dead but just incase, underage drinking, things could be ooc but they’re kids so, twins are 13 about to turn 14 and lester is 8

Vincent sat at the edge of the forest, chin resting on his knees, arms wrapped around his legs. His mask was off, placed gently beside him on his jacket to keep it off of the ground, and his hair had fallen into his face. It stunk of his house, of his mothers perfume, and he swore it was smothering him just like she was. “Vincent!” Lester’s voice calls out for him from within the forest and he looks up from his shoes (Bo’s old ones he had given to Vincent after he grew out of them) and couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

His younger brother, a whopping eight years old since yesterday, comes sauntering out of the forest covered head to toe in dirt, a big gap-toothed grin on his face. “Hey, Lester.” Vincent signs slowly, grinning wider at the intense look Lester has while watching his hands move. Lester was starting to get the hang of understanding Vincent’s signing so long as he kept it slow. Vincent can remember just a few years ago when Bo and Vincent would fight in sign at night as to not wake their parents and Lester would sit perched on the edge of the bed, hands clasped together in his lap and his mouth open in awe as he watched how quickly the boys hands’ moved.

“Hiya!” When he’s a few feet from Vincent, Lester takes one final large hop, landing just in front of his older brother. Gravel goes everywhere and Lester giggles, kicking at the rocks under his feet slightly. Vincent notices the hole beginning to form in the front of his shoes and makes a mental note to find a pair around the house for him. “Where’s Bo? Up at the garage?”

Both boys turn their heads to the right, looking over at the garage further down in town. They couldn’t see anyone but Vincent knew that’s where Bo was because that’s where he always was these days. Vincent couldn’t help but feel slightly jealous of the time Bo spent with Charlie, the mechanic. He had grown used to his brother being by his side, kicking and screaming and hollering every second, and his absence was noticed immediately. To some, like his parents, his being gone was good. But to Vincent, it wasn’t. He knew Bo, knew that he wanted out of this town and out of this life.

He wanted to get away from it all and that meant Vincent too.

Not that Vincent blamed him; quite the opposite, actually. He grew up in close quarters with Bo, saw the way he was strapped to his high chair for hours on end until his wrists bled only for it to happen the next day and then the next. He saw the bruises and cuts that littered his body when he’d get ready for bed. He heard the things his parents said about Bo to his face and he sure as hell heard what they said when he was gone. He wanted Bo to go, but not without him.

“Knew it!” Lester says, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “What’s up with ‘ya, Vin? Thought you was with momma today?” Vincent cringes at the reminder and Lester instantly stops moving, sensing it. The kid had a good read on people’s emotions, always ready to listen or help when someone, even his mom or dad, were feeling down. Vincent can’t remember the last time he did that for Lester. “Somethin’ happen?”

Vincent nods and Lester flops down in front of him, sitting criss-crossed. Lester waits for him to sign and, after shaking away the feeling of being silly, he does. “Momma got mad because I’m still not good at the sculptures. She’s getting weaker and she needs me to help her but I can’t. I’m bad at it.” His face scrunches up slightly, head tilting down further. He was embarrassed.

Here he was, 13 going on 14, telling his problems to his little brother, a kid who doesn’t need to know about how mom threw Vincent’s sculpture of her against the wall of the basement, shattering the wax into a million shards in tune with his already broken heart. He doesn’t need to know the details, he decides as his hands fall back into his lap. Lester had been spared from both their parents' rage (for the most part) thus far but only because they were too preoccupied directing that anger at him and Bo. Especially Bo.

“Well, that ain’t true, Vin! You’re awesome at all that stuff!” Lester says and Vincent knows Lester believes that, but he also knows it’s not true. He was alright at art, at sculpting things from his mind, things he had seen in movies or read about in books, but he wasn’t good at the realistic stuff, not like his mom. “Is it ‘cause of the… real stuff?”

“You know about that?”

“Yeah,” Lester is sheepish as he admits it, looking away from Vincent and down to the dirt ground underneath him. “Snuck down one night while momma and daddy were talkin’ to you and Bo about it. I ain’t telling anyone, don’t worry!”

“Lester,” Lester wonders for a brief second how Vincent was able to get his disappointment across as well as he did without speaking, but he simply thins his lips into an apologetic half-smile. “Don’t tell them you know.” There’s an unspoken sentence there that hangs in between them both. Or else they’ll hurt you. Lester holds his pinky out and Vincent’s lip curves upwards as he does the same, hooking his around his little brothers. “It was about that.” He signs when he lets go and Lester nods, eyebrows furrowing together.

Vincent can practically see the gears turning in Lesters little head and he can hear the ‘ding!’ of a lightbulb go off. “Oh, I know! Why don’t you practice!” Vincent waits for Lester to elaborate, not moving a muscle even when Lester jumps up in excitement. “C’mon! I gotta show ya’ somethin’!”

Lester holds his small hand out to his older brother and Vincent takes it, following behind him into the woods without a single question. Even if this was nothing, which Vincent was seven hundred percent sure it wasn’t, the distraction would be nice. He hadn’t been out here in a while.

The last time he had, it had been with Bo. It was a year or so ago, back when Bo and he were attached at the hip, as if the surgery hadn’t worked, and they had gotten grounded and sent to bed with no supper. Bo had suggested they sneak out and Vincent agreed; he’d follow Bo anywhere. That ‘anywhere’ ended up being the middle of the woods, just beside the creek. “I go here when I needa get the hell outta the house.” Bo had said to Vincent, his voice quiet.

The woods had been dark and it had seemed like every noise was amplified, making Vincent’s skin crawl. The flashlight he was holding wasn’t strong enough, just seemed to make the shadows jump out more, make them take the shape of the bullies at school and at home. “Bo, I’m scared.” Vincent had signed to him and Bo had just laughed, slowing his pace down to walk beside his brother.

“Ain't nothin’ to be scared of, Vince.” He said when they finally made it to the spot by the creek that Bo had set out for. “You and I are the scariest sons of bitches these woods have seen. I’ll protect ya, anyways. Just like I always do.” Bo then showed Vincent the bottle of whiskey he had stolen from their fathers a few weeks back and had grinned when Vincent took a sip without a fight. “See! You’re a man!”

It only took another small swig of the liquor to have Vincent feeling different and he stopped there, remembering how his dad got when he drank too much. Bo stopped too, tucking it back into his backpack and hiding it underneath his jacket. Then they sat there, staring off back into the town, the lights from houses flickering off as the minutes ticked by. Vincent had tapped Bo on the shoulder and when he looked at him, he started to sign.

“I’m sorry for not protecting you.”

“What’re you talkin’ about, Vince?”

“From mom and dad.” Bo’s jaw tightens but he doesn’t stop Vincent and he’s glad because he keeps going, whiskey running through his veins. “I should stand up to them for you. It ain’t fair the way you get treated, the way they make you out to be bad. You aren’t bad. You’re better than me, that’s for sure.”

“Now, stop that.” Bo says dryly. “You know I ain’t better than you. Everyone knows it.”

“You are,” Vincent emphasizes, almost like he’s desperate for Bo to really understand him. “You take care of people. You don’t have to defend me from the kids in school but you do. You don’t have to take the blame for me so mom and dad don’t hurt me. You don’t have to make sure Les and I are taken care of.”

“You’re my brother.”

“And you’re mine.”

Bo huffs but through the dimmed flashlight beam Vincent can see his words have struck him. He hopes its in a good way. “Guess I am pretty cool,” He deflects, grinning at his brother. Vincent smiles back; he’d take what he could get from Bo. Bo looked back over at the town, now completely dark. “Imma get us outta here, Vince. You, me, Lester; we ain’t getting stuck in this rotten place, not if I have anything to do about it.”

After that night, Bo seemed to change. He was quieter, more subdued. He stayed out at the garage, learning about cars and how to fix them, how to drive them. It was a part of the plan to get them all out of there but the longer it went on and the longer Bo would stay out, the less certain he was about his brother's intentions on taking them with him.

He knew who he was without his brother. He was a freak. He was the one to target, to pick on and make cry and make hurt. He was the thing to point and laugh at because there was no one around to defend him.

Without Bo, Vincent was nothing. It was selfish to want Bo back and he would end each prayer he made asking for Bo to stay with him with an apology. To whom exactly, he wasn’t sure. Maybe God for bothering him with such requests. Maybe Bo for asking for it knowing how it would hurt him. Maybe himself for not believing in his own abilities to survive.

Every prayer and apology went unanswered.

“Here we are, Vin!” Lester’s voice brings Vincent barreling back to reality. He was no longer in his bedroom, waiting for the creak of the floorboard to signify his brother's return, but instead deep in the forest, just by the creek. He recognizes the surroundings immediately. Swallowing hard he walks over to Lester who was standing a few feet away, shifting his weight foot to foot in excitement. “Lookit!”

Vincent finally reaches his younger brother and looks down at where he was pointing and tilts his head. There was a dead squirrel. “A… squirrel? You wanted to show me this?” He knew Lester was into dead animals and roadkill, knew he had a strange fascination with them, but he had never dragged him twenty minutes deep into the woods to show him one before.

“Yeah! Its not all mangled, not like the ones I find out on the road!” Lester waits for Vincent to understand and when he gets nothing but a shrug of the shoulders he deflates slightly. “I…I figured you could use it to practice. Y’know, momma surely didn’t start with people, I figured if you had something smaller to work on, you could get the tech… technique down, right?”

“You know what, Les?” Vincent bends down, grabbing a stick just next to him and using it to carefully lift the corpse of the squirrel up, surveying the damage. He swallows down the bile rising up his throat and the goosebumps raising on his flesh at the sight of it. Vincent looks up, dropping the stick and looking into Lester’s hopeful eyes. “I think that just might work.”

--------

It didn’t look right. His mother had gone to bed early and his father was surely drinking himself to death, so when Vincent and Lester got back to the house as the sun was setting, they had the basement all to themselves. “Can I watch you, Vin? Oh please, please, let me! I wanna see how you do it!” Lester had pleaded, hands clasped together and bottom lip jutted out. Vincent laughed at the sight of Lester fluttering his lashes at him and had agreed.

Hours later, well past both boys' bedtimes, Vincent had finally finished the last layer of wax, had smoothed it out carefully like he had done to his own figures hundreds of times before. It looked off, though. Too thin in some places, too thick in others, not enough detailing here and there and almost too much in other parts. Vincent grunts, arms folded tightly across his chest. Lester stood beside him, head tilting side to side like an art critic in one of the movies Vincent had seen before.

“It looks so cool!” Lester finally says, looking up at Vincent with a large grin. Vincent shakes his head, lifting his hands to begin to tell Lester everything that was wrong with it, when Lester shakes his head. “Can I keep it, Vin? It’s awesome! It looks just like a wax sculpture but you’d never know the real thing was underneath!”

“You really wanna keep this thing? I could try to make a better one…” Vincent questions and Lester nods quickly, eagerly, hand reaching out to drag along the tail of the squirrel lightly. “Well… if you’re sure you want it, then yeah, go ahead.”

Lester hugs Vincent tight, his little arms barely wrapping around the broadening frame of his brother and Vincent hugs him back, heart swirling with warmth. “Oh, thank you Vincent! You’re the best big brother ever!”

“What about me? Am I chopped liver or somethin’ Les?” Lester and Vincent turn, still hugging each other, and see Bo at the bottom of the steps, leaning against the walls with a fake frown on his face. He was wearing mechanic overalls a size too big but his name was embroidered right there on the front pocket. “I see how it is, kid.”

Lester giggles, letting go of Vincent and running over to Bo, grabbing his hand and pulling him over to the table where Vincent’s sculpture sat. “Lookit! There's a real squirrel under this, ain’t that cool Bo? Don’t touch!” Bo gasps in shock when Lester swats at his hand. “You’re all greasy! I don’t want this to get messed up! Vinny made it for me, he’s lettin’ me keep it, can you believe that?”

“Don’t hit, you little brat!” Bo says but there’s no venom behind his words. Vincent watches with bated breath as Bo leans down and tilts his head, much like Lester, as he looks it over. Vincent can see every damn flaw on the thing and he’s sure Bo can too. Bo looks over at him with a cocked eyebrow. “You made this with a real squirrel?”

“Yeah,” He signs sheepishly. “Lester thought it would help me get better if I practiced with this stuff.” Bo nods, eyes trailing off towards the corner where most of Vincent's current projects sat and he hones in on the shards covering the floor. His eyes darken when he looks back at Vincent. “It was momma. I messed up the sculpture.”

Bo sucks his teeth harshly, lips thinning into an angry line. “Sure as hell ain't true; your shit’s better than momma’s half the time and that squirrel ain’t an exception.” Lester gasps at the swear word and Bo stifles a laugh with a cough. “Sorry, Les, forgot you were here. Don’t go repeatin’ that now, alright? Not till you’re older. Now,” He picks Lester up and the young boy yawns, resting his head onto his shoulder and Bo nods his head for Vincent to grab ahold of the squirrel. “Let’s all get to bed before we get in trouble.”

After tucking Lester in his bed and placing the squirrel on his small bookshelf beside the small collection of animal bones he had begun to collect, Bo and Vincent silently settle into their own beds. “Vince? You up?” Bo asks in the darkness and Vincent lets out a soft grunt in acknowledgement. “I meant what I said about your shit being better than mommas.”

Vincent doesn’t know what to say, so he remains quiet. Bo sighs, turning over in bed so his back was no longer turned from his brother and he stares at him, waiting. “Thanks, Bo. She’s really good, though. I’m not good at the…stuff she wants us to do. No one else knows about it but us.”

“I know.” Bo hates it too, but he knows better than to disagree with his mom. He’s quiet for a minute and right when Vincent thinks he had fallen asleep, Bo starts to talk again. “I’m getting a car fixed up. Gonna be able to leave soon.”

“Really? All of us, or just you?”

“All of us.”

A million questions run through his head. Where would they go? What would they do? Where would they stay? What would happen to their mom and dad? Bo knows the questions he has but he doesn’t have any answers. Vincent grunts again and the two boys fall silent. They could leave. Really leave. He could make his own art, Bo could learn about music, Lester could do whatever he wanted. They could figure it out. They could get out from the iron rule of their parents and be who they wanted to be, do what they wanted. They could be free.

All three boys fall asleep with smiles on their faces. All three boys dream of a fire in the House of Wax.

Don't ever hesitate. Reblog this. TUMBLR RULE. When you see it, REBLOG IT.

The original post only has US helplines. I’ve added UK helplines underneath. It would be great if people could add numbers from everywhere in the world.

Depression Hotline: 1-630-482-9696

Suicide Hotline: 1-800-784-8433

LifeLine: 1-800-273-8255

Trevor Project: 1-866-488-7386

Sexuality Support: 1-800-246-7743

Eating Disorders Hotline: 1-847-831-3438

Rape and Sexual Assault: 1-800-656-4673

Grief Support: 1-650-321-5272

Runaway: 1-800-843-5200, 1-800-843-5678, 1-800-621-4000

Exhale: After Abortion Hotline/Pro-Voice: 1-866-4394253

Child Abuse: 1-800-422-4453

UK Helplines:

Samaritans (for any problem): 08457909090 e-mail jo@samaritans.org

Childline (for anyone under 18 with any problem): 08001111

Mind infoline (mental health information): 0300 123 3393 e-mail: info@mind.org.uk

Mind legal advice (for people who need mental-health related legal advice): 0300 466 6463 legal@mind.org.uk

b-eat eating disorder support: 0845 634 14 14 (only open Mon-Fri 10.30am-8.30pm and Saturday 1pm-4.30pm) e-mail: help@b-eat.co.uk

b-eat youthline (for under 25’s with eating disorders): 08456347650 (open Mon-Fri 4.30pm - 8.30pm, Saturday 1pm-4.30pm)

Cruse Bereavement Care: 08444779400 e-mail: helpline@cruse.org.uk

Frank (information and advice on drugs): 0800776600

Drinkline: 0800 9178282

Rape Crisis England & Wales: 0808 802 9999 1(open 2 - 2.30pm 7 - 9.30pm) e-mail info@rapecrisis.org.uk

Rape Crisis Scotland: 08088 01 03 02 every day, 6pm to midnight

India Self Harm Hotline: 00 08001006614

India Suicide Helpline: 022-27546669

Kids Help Phone (Canada): 1-800-668-6868, Free and available 24/7

suicide hotlines;

Argentina: 54-0223-493-0430

Australia: 13-11-14

Austria: 01-713-3374

Barbados: 429-9999

Belgium: 106

Botswana: 391-1270

Brazil: 21-233-9191

China: 852-2382-0000

(Hong Kong: 2389-2222)

Costa Rica: 606-253-5439

Croatia: 01-4833-888

Cyprus: 357-77-77-72-67

Czech Republic: 222-580-697, 476-701-908

Denmark: 70-201-201

Egypt: 762-1602

Estonia: 6-558-088

Finland: 040-5032199

France: 01-45-39-4000

Germany: 0800-181-0721

Greece: 1018

Guatemala: 502-234-1239

Holland: 0900-0767

Honduras: 504-237-3623

Hungary: 06-80-820-111

Iceland: 44-0-8457-90-90-90

Israel: 09-8892333

Italy: 06-705-4444

Japan: 3-5286-9090

Latvia: 6722-2922, 2772-2292

Malaysia: 03-756-8144

(Singapore: 1-800-221-4444)

Mexico: 525-510-2550

Netherlands: 0900-0767

New Zealand: 4-473-9739

New Guinea: 675-326-0011

Nicaragua: 505-268-6171

Norway: 47-815-33-300

Philippines: 02-896-9191

Poland: 52-70-000

Portugal: 239-72-10-10

Russia: 8-20-222-82-10

Spain: 91-459-00-50

South Africa: 0861-322-322

South Korea: 2-715-8600

Sweden: 031-711-2400

Switzerland: 143

Taiwan: 0800-788-995

Thailand: 02-249-9977

Trinidad and Tobago: 868-645-2800

Ukraine: 0487-327715

I just adore him so much.

I love your works on Rusty Nail and it makes me love him more!

If you're free, can you do a fic where you're on a road trip with your son (Any name). Your ex-husband left you with another woman and you packed a few stuff to head to your friend's house to stay.

Your son is quiet and mostly plays on his side with toy trucks since he has a big interest for them. You decided to try and get his attention by telling him about the CB radio and decided to pretend you're talking to a truck driver.

That's when you accidentally dialled Rusty. You apologized, but your son got interested and wanted to try the radio. You ask Rusty if he can play along with your kid for a moment and he agreed.

Your son then began asking a few questions about trucks and truck drivers to Rusty and he replied back. After a while, your son fell asleep and you thanked him, saying that the kid's never been this chattery and curious before. You and Rusty talk for a moment, with you telling why you're on a roadtrip with your kid and where's the dad.

Finally, you two said goodbye and you hung up, heading near to your friend's hometown.

Meanwhile, Rusty looks at his front view mirror and see the tied up dad in a crate, trying to call out to you by your name. Rusty smirked, "So that's her name huh? Cute~"

Sorry if it's too long!

Hello there, anon! First of all, thank you so much for your kind words. He is definitely an under-served and underappreciated character. Secondly, thank you for my first request! I'm so sorry it's taken a bit since it came when I was MIA from the site. Hopefully, you enjoy.

Breathe. In and out. A steady rhythm and something to focus on so that you wouldn't lose your composure. Breaking down in front of your son was not an option. Your own feelings about everything that had happened over the last near ten hours didn't matter. All that mattered was getting your boy bundled up and buckled up in his car seat so you could leave. Did you know exactly where you were heading? Not one hundred percent. An old college friend out to the northwest was willing to house you for a few days whIle you figured it out. An option you were beyond grateful to have. 

“All right, buddy.” You gave Michael a smile as he looked up at you, gripping at the toy truck and the stuffed dinosaur that occupied the car seat with him. Reaching out, you lightly brushed some of his hair back from his forehead. “Are you ready to have some fun and go on a trip?” He nodded, giving a small smile, feet kicking lightly from where he was settled in. The smile felt more genuine this time, and you couldn't help but feel another swell of love for him. Assuring him that it would be a long trip but that you were going to have a lot of fun where you were going, you made sure one last time that everything was buckled before getting into the driver seat. 

Bag of drinks and snacks for him in the passenger seat beside you. Check. Cell and cell charger. Check. Last of the bags of what little you could take stuffed into the trunk? Check. There was nothing left for you at the house. Your stomach churned with the thoughts of the custody battle that was likely to come, but that was a future problem. Your ex was too vindictive, clearly. Whether he actually wanted your son or not, he would likely bring you to court over it all. 

Starting off, you watched the last twelve years of your life slip away in the rear view mirror until it was completely gone from sight. You had been blindsided when your husband had announced that he wanted a divorce and that he was having an affair. Shell-shocked. It had rocked your entire world. Everything had seemed fine. There hadn't been any indicators that he had been that unhappy or that he had been with anyone else. Your skin had crawled, knowing he had touched you the night before. Fighting was not something that had a place in your relationship ever before, but the situation had devolved into just that, with him following you around screaming. It was a side of him that you had never seen and one that you certainly didn't like. It had been slapdash from there to get what you could and gather up everything that you needed to bring Michael with you. The one person that perhaps your husband should have been more concerned with but couldn't seem to care less about as you packed. Finding a place to go was a little harder. Your husband and his family were the only family that you had left. 

Shaking the thoughts from your head, you kept checking your rear view, alternating between checking on your son in the backseat and making sure you weren't followed. Perhaps it was a little paranoid, but after everything that had happened, it wasn't out of the realm of possibility. As much as you would have liked to think that wasn't the case. 

Michael was incredibly well-behaved, as he often was, as you crossed state lines finally. You had stopped twice for a bathroom break and had provided snacks. There were still a lot of miles to cover and hours left in the car before you reached your destination. He wouldn't stay entertained the entire time. So, you had to come up with something. Songs only went so far, and when that failed, you decided to play around with the old CB radio. There wasn't any intent to call anyone or actually use it. Just make a show for your son. 

“Hey, Michael,” you started and quickly got the four year olds attention. “Guess what?”

“What?”

“We can talk to some truck drivers on this radio. What do you think about that? Is that something that you wanna do?” You could hear his feet hitting the seat, a sure sign of excitement. 

“Really?” 

“Yep, really. This is the sort of radio that is kinda like a phone. Every truck driver has one in their truck. It's how they can talk to one another.” You picked up the handle on the mic and made a show as if you were going to call out on the radio, but instead of pressing the button, you just spoke into the mic so it didn't go out over the radio. “Hello. Is there anyone out there who can talk?” Of course, no one would respond, but your son didn't know that. He was leaning as far forward as his car seat would allow him, eyes wide, and hands clutching tightly at his toy truck. 

“Can you….can you try again?” How were you supposed to say no to such a request? This time, you didn't realize that the button was depressed enough that your voice was actually heard over the radio. 

“Don't know the sound of your voice.” The voice that rumbled through the CB nearly made you jump, and you could hear your son gasp and clap in excitement. Well, shit. Clearing your throat, you realized that you would need to say something in return and be polite. The man was likely busy. 

“Well, uh, I'm not someone who uses the radio all that often….I’m sorry if I'm bothering you.”

“Nah, you ain't bothering me none. Nice to have someone to talk to on a long drive.” 

“Can we ask him about his truck?”

“If you really don't mind…” You paused for a second, glancing back at your son before giving in. “My son and I are on a road trip. And he loves trucks. He wants to be a truck driver when he gets older. Would you mind if he asked you some questions?” God, you hoped he wouldn't mind indulging your boy about a few things. Otherwise, this could turn out terribly. Things were already going to be a little rough by the time you got to your destination. 

There was a few seconds of silence before the voice finally sounded out again. He sounded a bit amused, thankfully. 

“Yeah, why not. Bet he's got some good questions.” For the first time all day, you felt some relief and just a hint of happiness. As much as you tried to shield Michael from everything, even at four, he could tell something was wrong. You pulled over to the side of the road for a moment so you could show your son how to use the mic for the CB. 

“Okay, Mike. The truck driver is gonna talk to you, okay? When you want to ask him a question, you press this button and speak into this. But you gotta make sure to let go of the button because you won't be able to hear him otherwise. Okay?” You handed over the mic and watched as he looked at it for a moment before pressing the button. 

“Hello, Mr. Truck Driver.” You had to suppress a small laugh. He was always polite, something that made you thankful. There was a pause, and you almost reminded him to let go of the button before the deep rumble of the man came back through. 

“Evening little man. What's your name?”

“Michael.”

“Well, Michael, you can call me Rusty. I hear you got some questions for me.” You couldn't have been more grateful for the man on the other end of the line. He didn't need to show such kindness to your son. A small light in an otherwise dark day. 

“What kinda truck do you drive? What color is it? Can you sleep in it?” The questions started going rapid fire. Before you could tell him to slow down, he stopped so that Rusty could answer. 

And that was how the next hour and a half went. Michael was far more engaged and eager than you had seen him almost ever. It certainly went on far longer than you anticipated. You thought that it would peter out after about fifteen minutes, but the naturally shy boy seemed to find his stride talking over the CB and getting all his questions answered. Rusty, for his part, answered back with not over enthusiasm but a genuine enjoyment of having to answer the questions. 

You found yourself glancing back when there seemed to be a lull. 

“Still there, little man?” Michael was passed out, head hanging against the car seat. Laughing softly, you reached back for the cord to the mic and gently pulled it forward so as to not wake him.

“He fell asleep,” you offered back. “I really can't thank you enough for what you just did. I know it's probably the last thing that you wanted to do. That's the most animated I think I've ever seen him, so he really enjoyed himself.”

“Nah, nothing you gotta thank me for. It's nice to have something to focus on other than the road after a couple of hours.” There was a little untwisting of the guilt that you had felt in your gut when he confirmed that he genuinely hadn't minded. “You need anything, you can find me on this channel. Gonna take a guess and say it's just the two of you on the road.” The comment should have sent off warning bells but he had just spoken to your son for an hour and half, with you being the only adult he had contact with, so it was a fairly well educated guess. 

“Yeah, it's just us. Thank you, really. Your kindness was a bright spot in the day. We thankfully only have about another hour to go before we are safe and sound.”

“Good. You get to where you are going safely. Roads can be dangerous this time of night.” 

“You're a good man, Rusty. Thank you. I'll find a way to repay your kindness.”

“Ain’ anything to worry about. You focus on your boy.” The radio went silent after that, but it felt like a good ending to the conversation. Smiling to yourself, you felt a bit lighter as you finished the drive to your friends house. As much pain as you were feeling, you were granted the opportunity to remember that there were good things in this life thanks to the man on the other side of the radio. 

Rusty chuckled to himself and glanced behind the seat to where the man was tied up on the floor.

“Boy, you must have really done a number on her. She didn't even bother mentioning you.” Amusement tinged the words. “I would say I'm doing her a favor by getting rid of you. Better for that boy not to know his father at all. He'll forget you soon enough.” He lit a cigarette and turned his attention back to the road, thinking of just how he could work out one of those chance run-ins with the woman and her son. The whimpers and pleas of the man just cemented those thoughts. It wouldn't be hard to get where she was heading from her husband in the back. The truck sped up through the darkness of the night, a new intent hanging heavy.

OC Interview Questions

Send me a number and a character (or multiple!) and they’ll answer the question themselves!

Who makes up your family?  How close are you to them?

Who is your best friend?  Tell us about them!

What is your favorite childhood memory?

What is your least favorite childhood memory?

What is your favorite thing to do in your free time?

What’s the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do?

Who do you look up to?

What do you think had the biggest impact on you growing up?

Are you a spiritual person?  If yes, what do you practice?

Where were you born?  Where did you grow up?  Where do you live now?

What is your favorite type of media (TV, movie, books, etc)?  Name some specific favorites (which shows, movies, books, etc do you like)!

If you could go anywhere in the world, where would it be? (on vacation or permanently!)

You’re given an unlimited budget to build anything you want!  What do you build and where do you build it?

What are your favorite music genres?

Do you play any instruments?  Which ones?  How long have you been playing?

Describe your perfect day.

What makes you laugh?

What’s the best way to cheer you up?

What makes you sad?

Describe your biggest pet peeve.

Describe your ideal partner.

What’s the easiest way to flirt with you?

Have you ever had a crush on someone?  Do you have a crush now?

What would you consider your main love language?

Freebie!  Come up with your own question for the character to answer!

pov you interrupt their conversation because you need gas