Those Prep Kids

Those Prep Kids

“They say those prep kids slap their own parents!”

Stopping mid step in his walk Tad Spencer turned his head to the side and stared wide eyed at the source of the comment he has just heard. Despite the mixture of emotion he felt including that of pure anger due to the false remark, he knew he didn’t want to hear anything else, that particular person or anyone else had to say about ‘prep kids’. Picking up his pace he headed past the gas station and towards the bridge that led back into the Vale. All the while the words he had just gotten wind of continuing to echo in his mind, “They say those prep kids slap their own parents! They say, THEY SAY, those prep kids, PREP KIDS, slap their own parents, slap their own, slap their, SLAP!”
Continuing up the bridge Tad kept his head down, too distraught to look up at the moment. It was a beautiful afternoon with a few clouds lingering in the air from the rain storm that had passed through earlier. There were large rain puddles all around but on this day they only added to the tranquilly of the moment. Halting his advancement he stopped just short of a puddle and stared into it at his reflection, his eyes were sad, like that of someone who had just received the news that they’d be dead in less than 24 hours. It wasn't often he moped around looking the way he did at the moment, usually he walked with his head held high in a proud manner and confidence in his stride granted it was a false display of confidence, regardless though he couldn’t let the other preps see him trudging around like a depressed house wife. Whenever he found himself in the presence of one of his peers be it friend of foe, he would automatically switch his demeanor over to that of a snob. Taking a deep breath he looked up, he still had a ways to go before he reached the family estate on which he lived, but he was determined to move as slow as possible and make his trip as long as possible to avoid reaching his lavish home anytime soon. Little did he know that was not going to be the case.
Still standing in the same place, he was startled from his thoughts when an all too familiar expensive, sports car pulled up beside him. Staring at his reflection again this time in the dark tinted widow of the car he suddenly found the strength and will power to move but knew better than to do so. His heart began to beat rapidly in his chest and he felt the urge to throw up, struggling to keep his composure he managed to remain calm as the driver side window slowly rolled down. Met with a stone cold stare that never failed to send shivers down his spine he swallowed a dry lump in his throat. No words were exchanged for a few moments and as the two stared at one another Tad found himself wishing his mother had been on the passenger side of the car. Sure her presence would not have served as complete protection but usually she was able to talk both he and her to safety.
“I thought I told you to be home early today!” His father’s voice held a sinister tone. Tad stood there too afraid to speak, he hadn’t been told to be home early today, his father was simply toying with him to scare him and whether he knew it or not he was doing a very good job of it.
“Get it the car!” he growled through clenched teeth. Without a word Tad lowered his head and hurried around the car to climb in on the passenger side. He barely managed to even sit down and get the door closed before the car sped off down the street.
Making his way into the mansion Tad stood in the living room and faced his father, head held high and hands at his side but avoiding eye contact. He hoped that by some miracle his obedient efforts would spare him what he knew was to come. Mr. Spencer approached his youngest son, cold eyes bearing down on him daring him to do or say anything. Tad kept his gaze off to the side until the man he called father stopped directly in front of him. Turning his gaze upward he struggled to force a look of confidence on his face as he made eye contact with his father. Mr. Spencer opened his mouth as if he were about to say something but paused and closed it again deciding not to do so. He looked down at the ground for a moment, clearly contemplating something with a casual expression on his face; he slowly brought his gaze back up to Tad. A loud smack echoed throughout the mansion, Tad closed his eyes in an effort to keep the tears from falling, and he waited a moment before he turned his head back towards his father who had nearly smacked his face off. The slap didn’t surprise Tad in the least bit, he had expected it! Despite his efforts tears welled up in his eyes but somehow refused to fall down his face. He couldn’t deal with it, the emotional and physical turmoil he was constantly being forced to endure was too much. There was a frightening pause as nothing else happened for a few moments, breathing heavily Tad continued to stand there under the scrutinizing gaze of the source of his anguish. Mr. Spencer on the other hand simply continued to stare at him as if he were waiting for a response from his son. Tad however knew better than to speak during times like this, in the past opening his mouth even just to take in a deep breath had proven to be damn near fatal. A tremor ran through his body that he was unable to hide; Mr. Spencer tuned his nose up and raised an eyebrow at his son’s behavior. Tad allowed his eyes to slowly drift shut and he cringed inwardly. He had fucked up, he hadn’t done what was expected of him and now he was in grave danger, more danger than he was to begin with. Desperate to prevent another beat down and continuing to squeeze his eyes shut Tad opened his mouth to speak anyway, “Father I….” He was cut off when a fist landed against his jaw and knocked him clean to the floor. Quickly curling up in a ball Tad braced himself for the beating that was evident from the get go.
He caught the sound of his father’s footsteps making their way across the floor and again he cringed knowing he was about to be struck with a heavy object. As expected a glass side table collided with his body. Upon making contact with him, he felt the table shatter into pieces and the razor sharp shards tear through his clothing and pierce his skin. Again the dreaded sound of footsteps approaching was heard, followed by a heavy foot stomping on him, forcing the large shards of glass deeper into his body. Tads mind raced with excuses to tell the other guys at the gym should they catch sight of the cuts, which they more than likely were.
“Pathetic wretch….” Were the only words his father snarled at him as he proceeded to stomp him into the floor. Halting his abuse on his son Mr. Spencer took a step back, “GET UP!!!” He hollered to the top of his lungs. Fearful of doing so but knowing he had no choice in the matter a panic stricken Tad slowly began to push himself off the ground not once looking at his father. Mr. Spencer wasted no time in grabbing another random object, this time a large expensive vase that his mother had bought not too long ago. Knowing that too was going to be thrown at him Tad quickly began to scramble across the floor desperate to get away. Mr. Spencer sent the large, heavy vase whirling at Tad this time catching him right on his back. Tad crashed to the floor in pain but quickly got up again and made his way over to the wall. Although it provided no protection he was simply desperate to keep as much distance as possible between him and his father. As always Mr. Spencer began tossing any and everything he could get his hands on at Tad. The young boy ducked and dodged as much as he was able to intentionally allowing some things to hit him knowing that if his father kept missing it would only further anger him. With each blow Tad knew that he had another bruise to hide, another excuse to make up and another awkward moment to endure should anyone see his battered body. With the toss of another blunt object, the matching side table he had been struck with earlier, Tad had run out of strength to even try and protect himself, collapsing to the ground and bleeding profusely he laid there waiting for his beating to continue but hoping it would end soon. He though that several of his bones were broken and found himself wishing that he would slip into unconsciousness so that he could avoid all the pain he was feeling even if only for a few minutes. Suddenly a Sharp pain made its way across his back and he squirmed in an attempt to relieve the burning sensation it left behind, evidently he had been struck with a belt buckle and as many times as he had been hit with one it was a pain he never got used to. Drawing his arm back Mr. Spencer again lashed his belt across Tads body the clothes he had on, his school uniform, thankfully offered a little protection. After a handful of lashes the assault stopped, and an eerie silence followed. Not sure if his torment was over Tad had resorted to the fetal position on the floor where he remained when he suddenly found his hair being yanked upward. Without thinking he opened his eyes just in time to catch his father spit a large wad of slime directly into the middle of his face. Once his hair was released Tad’s head dropped to the floor with a splat as it landed in a puddle of his own blood. It was over; his father always ended his beating by spitting in his face. As disgusting as it was it always caused relief to overtake Tad because the spitting was like a bell being rung, a bell that signaled the end of his pain and suffering for the time being. Opening his eyes he watched his father’s feet make their way towards the front door and quickly exit. He listened as he heard the car start up and speed out of the driveway and down the street. Still lying on the floor he took a moment to glance at his surroundings, the living room looked like the aftermath of a war zone. He knew his mother would be upset, upset because her belongings had been destroyed and upset because the state of the living room would also serve as confirmation that Tad, her son had received yet another beating. Managing to roll over onto his back Tad stared up at the chandelier that hung from the ceiling from his position on the floor as the rays of the afternoon soon pierced the blinds in the window casting shadows across his battered body. As he lay there the remark he had heard from one of the townsfolk earlier crept back into his mind, “They say those prep kids slap their own parents!” Coughing up blood Tad blinked several times allowing his gaze to remained locked onto the chandelier and he whispered to himself, “People don’t know the half”.