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• Michael    -

      Michael knocked tentatively on Terry’s white door, hoping he would understand what that entailed. “Alright, alright, ‘Chael. I’m coming down.” Michael frowned. When Terry came out and saw the look on Michael’s face, he sighed. He felt a hand tussle his straight black hair and flinched in surprise.

      “Hey, ‘Chael, don’t get mad. Those other kids probably tease you about it, but they're just jealous you have a cool nickname.” Michael hesitated, but crossed his arms.

       Terry sighed, running a hand through his thick black strands, identical to Michael’s. “I think Mike is a really boring nickname, and anyone who says that’s what you should be called that is a little stinker.” Michael's arms fell to his sides, and suddenly Terry had a small child pressed against his chest. 

      He laughed, patting Michael on the back. “So you're not mad about me calling you that now?” Terry asked. Michael’s head nodded against his chest, and Terry chuckled.

         Michael pushed off of him, then gave him a worried look and pointed at the office at the end of the house. 

       “Father needs me, doesn’t he?” Michael nodded. Terry’s eyebrows scrunched together in that way that let Michael know he was thinking really hard. “Don’t worry, I’m sure father’s not mad.” Terry whispered comfortingly. Terry shook his head. “Or at least I hope not.” Michael heard him whisper. Michael glared at the hardwood floor, as if it was at fault for how their father was, and a tear slipped down his face unbeknownst to himself. Suddenly, he felt a hand slip under his chin and tilt his head up. “I’m sure he’s not mad at me.” Michael forced a smile, because he knew his brother was just trying to help, even if Michael could hear the uncertainty in his voice.

       “Now shoo, before I catch you. Rawr!” Michael jumped backwards, sticking his tongue out and escaping upstairs. Or at least, he pretended to. He peeked around just to watch Terry disappear into fathers office. He scurried upstairs after that, like he’d be caught red handed if he stuck around. 

            Nearly an hour later, Terry slipped back out of fathers office with a sigh and walked over to where Michael was eating alone. He raised an eyebrow.

       “Where’s mom?” Michael glanced away, hating the answer. “She's working again, isn’t she.” Michael nodded. “Aw, I’m sorry bud. I’m sure she doesn’t want to.” Michael sighed. He loved Mama, but he just wished she was around more often. Some days he never saw her at all. But that was nothing compared to father, who if he ever saw him at all he was going somewhere or he was in trouble. He shook himself out of his thoughts and went back to eating. It wasn’t all bad, not while Terry was here. He glanced up at Terry in thought, looking at his features. He had black hair like Michael’s, blue eyes like his, and the same pale skin. But sadder. Some part of Michael knew that father seemed to take something out of Terry as the years passed by. Something that, for the life of him, he was too young to understand. He was still worried though. Terry was becoming distant, and Michael didn’t know if he could handle that. 

     A tear slipped down his cheek, dripping onto the table in the form of a fat, wet drop. 

    “‘Chael? Are you good?” Michael blinked, startled. He looked at Terry, confused, and cocked his head to the side. “You're crying.” Terry sighed, then hugged him. 

     “Hey, I’m worried about you ‘Chael, are you okay?” I’m worried about you, brother. 

     “You can always talk to me.” But will you talk to me? 

     “You’re gonna be okay.” Will you?

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• Michael    -

        “Michael, you have to help the preschoolers. This isn’t one of those things where you can go off and daydream, space cadet.” Michael frowned as the teacher chided him. What about the boys hiding in the bathroom? Why do they not participate? He felt a forceful hand at his back, pushing him forward. He stumbled before finding his balance again and, with reluctance, joining the preschoolers. They flocked to him, excited to impress the lone older kid. Michael felt an acid bubble in his stomach, as the foreign concept of attention forced itself upon his weak will. 

     Except for two, hiding under a red slide. Two girls, one with black hair and green eyes, the other with brown hair and green eyes as well. To the preschoolers dismay, he pushed past them and approached the two girls curiously. One noticed him and quickly stood up, taking a defensive position. 

      “Hey! Just because you're older doesn’t mean you can bully us!” Michael stumbled back, stunned. Was he being mean? He didn’t want to be mean. The only other mean person he knew was father, and he was nothing like him. Calm down. Terry’s voice chided him inside his head. He took a deep breath and tried to gather his courage, but the girl had crushed any semblance of confidence he’d had. The fierce black haired girl scowled, but the other girl pushed past her. 

       “Cal, you're being too hard. He was just being friendly.” The girl named Cal pouted. “Sorry about that, I’m Char, and this is Callie, or Cal for short.” Michael waved it off. “And you are…’Chael for short?” Char read off of his name tag. Cal raised an eyebrow, but Char just smiled. Michael nodded. He suddenly felt fear bubble in his gut, but he ignored it. He didn’t walk away or stop hanging around them, glancing at Cal, who was still a little upset. Are they okay with me staying? Apparently they could tell what he was thinking by his face, because Char nodded, and to Michaels surprise, he noticed Cal nod just the slightest as well. Char spoke up. “So…what do you think of the new buddy thingy?” Michael blinked. The whole thing about kindergarteners and preschoolers partnering up? I think it's because of bullying. He shrugged, keeping a blank face. Char nodded understandingly then blushed a little. 

     “Would you, um, wanna be me and maybe Cal’s partner? I’m sorry, I feel super embarrassed and uncomfortable asking that.” Pleasantly surprised, Michael nodded. Cal sighed. 

     “I guess it would be better than some girl who won’t shut up.” Michael let out a rare smile, and Cal’s mouth twitched up slightly. “I-“ “Kids! Time to go home!” Char looked upset, and even Cal looked a little sad. Michael was sad too, but the bubbling in his stomach washing away made the feeling less strong. He waved goodbye, partly relieved, yet overwhelmingly upset. It felt good to have something of a friend.

     “Mike! I’ve said it three times now! It’s time to go inside.” Michael frowned at the now estranged moniker, walking faster towards his teacher. I guess I spaced out again. “The exit’s the other way, honey.” Michael blinked blankly and strode the other way, embarrassed. 

     He thought about his encounter with the two girls on his walk home. It was short, but it was better than the other kindergartners. Not that it was the kindergartners fault. He was relatively new, and some popular students let him stick around them the first few weeks, but soon enough he was left to fend for himself. But…he didn’t really like anybody. Back in Illinois, their small town had rambunctious friends Michael loved to hang out with. But Michael wasn’t there anymore, not since his father’s company had exploded. Now here, at an expensive private school in a crowded city, everyone had manners and etiquette. He didn’t know those girls well, but Cal at the very least seemed to rebel against such a thing as manners. That was a welcome change of pace, despite how surprising that would seem coming from an introvert. He liked craziness, but he didn’t participate in it. He preferred to watch indifferently, secretly amused by it.

      Pain suddenly spiked through his head as he felt something hard hit his head. A wall. The price I pay for getting lost in my head. Sighing, he rubbed his forehead tenderly. A few tears leaked from his eyes, but he composed himself quickly. Home was near, and he couldn’t come home crying on the off chance that father saw him. But that wasn’t really why. He knew Terry would blame himself again, and once again he would hole himself up in his room. He shook himself out of his thoughts before he ran into a wall and hurried inside. 

           With a gentle click, the front door closed and Michael threw off his shoes. He threw his backpack by the door and emptied its contents. He flinched when he felt a hand on his shoulder, a familiar feeling creeping through his bones, but when he turned it was just his mama. He sighed in relief and he calmed down, hugging his Mama. 

      “How was kindergarten, sweetheart?” Michael smiled and gave her a thumbs up. “Oh come on, Michael, we talked about this. Tell me a bit more. Like did you finally buddy with the preschoolers?” Michael nodded. 

        His mom beamed and questioned him eagerly. Michael nodded and shook his head to humor her. Originally he was going to do it short, but his mom seemed expectant, so he continued. 

        “Are they boys?” Michael shook his head. “Girls?” He nodded. His mom made a proud noise and squeezed his shoulders. “I’m so proud of my little baby. I’ve got to go, but there’s food in the fridge if you want, Kay?” Michael nodded and hugged her tightly as if he could keep her there if he held tight enough. His mom chuckled and peeled herself from him. “Sorry bud. Now go play with Terry.” Michael nodded sadly, tears pricking his eyes. His mom turned with guilt sitting heavily in her eyes, and Michael shook himself. Stop it with the pity party, you're such a crybaby. It’s not mama’s fault, it’s just how it is. 

          Michael was going to ask Terry to play when a door, one that he never heard open, creaked and gave way to none other than his father. A tall man with dull black hair and piercing green eyes, his father was rather intimidating, especially to a child. Memories slowly resurfacing, Michael remembered to greet him. He bowed his head in greeting and held out his hand, waiting for it to be shaken patiently with the closest thing to a smile his stiff face could manage. His fathers gaze was even and unchanging as he shook Michael’s hand, showing no change until his mouth opened.

     “Hello, son. I am doing well, and I have come to inform you of something.” Michael shivered, shakily nodding for him to continue. “I have recently invested in your brother, but it appears that was a…poor…choice, so I have decided to begin preparing you. Starting tomorrow.” Michael’s eyes widened into saucers, his fake smile wavering. He couldn’t help but let it slip, shocked. His father frowned, but seemed to let it slide. “From here on out, you will be homeschooled and will attend work with me from 2:00 to 3:00. You will show proper etiquette and discipline, otherwise suffer the consequences.” Michael nodded his head numbly, barely holding back a tear. Cal and Char flashed by in his head. My new partners. Maybe new friends. As if father had read his mind, he continued. “You will leave behind all this school nonsense.” Michael wanted to cry. In fact, he knew his eyes were turning red, but he willed them away and nodded as steadily as he could manage. Not very steady at all. Shaking his head and sighing, Michael’s father dismissed him. “Now go. And do wipe those wet eyes, it’s rather unprofessional.” Michael couldn’t find words for his father. How could he do this? He looked up at his father and was shocked to find a strange look on his face. Guilt? The look was quickly schooled, and Michael internally sighed. But he wasn’t brave enough to do it in front of his father, so he scurried upstairs to bother Terry.

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• Michael    -

        “…And most importantly, do not speak during a meeting. Do you understand?” Michael nodded. He was nervous about visiting his dads place, to say the least. He was also curious though, as he knew nothing about what his father did. He hurried after his father into the building, looking around in fascination at the surprisingly bright interior. He was wearing rather bland clothing that his father had picked out, or more thrusted into his hands. It was a simple white button up with dull black pants. Not the flannel, jacket, or even shorts that he normally wore. He sighed, his mood a little sullen after dwelling on the uncomfortable clothes. He perked up as they reached the conference room though, because he had to admit he was a little curious about how his father acted at work. 

           Michael ran into the wall. Just like yesterday. He yelped and recoiled, blushing in embarrassment. His father sighed, brushing Michael’s hair up to inspect his forehead in a surprisingly fatherly act. Michael held his breath as his fathers cold hands and stony green eyes looked over him. His father breathed a sigh of relief. “Your hair piece covers it, so you're still presentable.” Air came out of his lungs in a sad sigh. Foolishly, he had hoped. “Don’t space out again, space cadet.” Michael looked up at his father in shock, but he had already slipped through the door. It’s like he’s a different person, he thought aimlessly as he followed father in.

           It was immediately overwhelming. The sound-proof door showcased the idea of few people, but it was a lie. People crowded every corner, and the cacophonous sound of laughter, argument, and small talk crushed against his senses violently and ruthlessly. Acid roared in Michael’s stomach, and his instincts screamed to run away from people, but he shoved it away. Now's not the time, he chided himself. He snuck over toward where his father was talking quietly with a coworker. He heard people whispering about him on the way, and stretched his ears to hear.

       “…very compliant. I would be pleased to work with him again.” 

       “Friendly, yet is able to get down to business. The staff were a little…”

       “I heard he had a brother, but he was taken to a mental hospital. I can’t…” 

      Michael froze at that last comment. He had a brother? What’s a mental hospital? Michael hurried toward where he had heard such, but they were already lost in the intimidating mob of people, and Michael was getting too claustrophobic to chase them. He shivered as someone brushed up against him, acid crawling along his spine. Once again, not the time Michael. He internally scolded himself in his best impression of father. He squeezed out of the crowd of people, and the creepy-crawlers let up. His father was chatting with a gray haired man who wore a long white coat. It was like looking at two opposites with the man’s light exterior clothing and hair versus his fathers black outfit and hair. Trying to look inconspicuous, Michael snuck closer to them. 

      “Enough about me though, it’s been a while since I’ve seen you, so what’s been going on Dr. Fitzgerald?” The dark skinned man chuckled. “Not much. My son is one of those troublemakers you here are popping up on the news. His name’s Marcus. As a doctor this motivated me to get further involved in psychology and mental health. I won’t get deep into it, but my hospitals mission is to help young men and women who have a little trouble in their mind.” It was exhausting to hear, but something caught Michael’s ear. Mental hospital? That is where they said fathers brother got sent. But…that one’s for young people, and fathers brother is probably old. Michael shrugged. He was curious, but right now he was trying to figure out more about this side of father, not his brother. But maybe his brother has to do it? That struck a chord, but knowing his father, he wouldn’t find anything about his uncle anytime soon. He sighed, and strained to hear their conversation again. 

        “…a little worried about him, but some symptoms of social anxiety and phobias will probably go away when they get used to the move. The one I’m really worried for is my older son.” Michael blinked in surprise. We’re they talking about Terry? Was something going on with him? “I held high hopes for him, but he disappointed me with his decision. He wants to become a…” Michael leaned closer at his father’s hesitancy. “Teacher.” He said the word with hardly concealed disgust, and Michael sighed. Father was still father, no matter the way he acted here. “I have decided to put my faith in my second child for now, but my wife would like to try for more children, so I am hoping for a good candidate for being the family man.” The doctor sighed at this. “Liam, I know you are strict and have high expectations for your children, as a mental health professional I would personally recommend a lighter approach.” Fathers eyes narrowed, and Michael sucked in a shaky breath as he resisted the urge to escape while he could. 

         “I am Mr. Harrison, and I appreciate the suggestion, it will be duly noted,” Father said in a voice that dripped with sarcasm. Michael winced at the tense argument that barely held onto any semblance of diplomacy. He took a tentative step backward, before pushing his way through people vigorously to escape before he got in trouble. If his father found out what he heard, he was in for a beating. 

         Apparently the door had been open, and Michael had been in such a rush to get away from his father, that he blasted right through it. Michael screeched to a stop and looked around in surprise-right in time to see the door close on him. He winced at the echoing sound of his doom. Taking a deep breath, he thought about what he could do. Obviously the door was closed, and that was bad because his father had clearly stated for him not to exit the room. The bright side was that without all those people, he could think. The door has been open before, and while he could knock, he wasn’t willing to take that risk just yet on the off chance his father found out. Not if the door opened again without reason. Then he could slip through and go home without a red mark on his cheek. He had never been hit, but he had seen Terry get the belt, and he never wanted to feel that. 

         What do I do now? Michael wondered aloofly as he stood by the door. He wasn’t in a rush, so he might as well explore the area while he had the chance. He would have to keep the door in sight though. He walked cautiously down the hallway, wincing at the way the sound echoed around the silent building. He turned a corner and was captivated by what he saw. Blooms of fiery red to sapphire blue grew along a perfectly landscaped courtyard. Michael pressed his face against the glass in an effort to see the flowers better, and he caught a glimpse of a bed of tiger lilies, but nothing more. Oh how he wished for his sketchbook, so he could write down these flowers. He was no use when it came to drawing, but he was quite proud of his penmanship. He had written down dozens of flowers and silently begged his mother to let him look them up. He even had a few growing in his room. They were his pride and joy, and his sole talent. He sighed dreamily before snapping himself out of the moment. He could daydream about flowers later, but he would probably never get the opportunity to explore his father’s workplace again. Turning to the other side of the wall, he started to open any doors that were open. Most were locked, but a few opened to reveal some simple offices. Nothing exciting, not yet at least. 

        He began to lose interest when an already ajar door caught his eye. It was a dull blue, normally unseen color like a black sheep in the white hallways. All the doors before had been closed without exception, but this one sat eerily open. The old, worn label said Janitors Closet, and Michael rushed toward it with barely contained curiosity. Then, he heard it creak. The office door. Michael’s approach came to a stop and he dashed the other way. Whipping around the corner, he slowed down a little and reached for the door. It had already begun to close, but he crammed his fingers in the crack with a grimace and opened it just enough to slip back inside. Michael let out a sigh of relief. That had been a little too close for comfort. He glanced around, relieved to find his luck had held out and his father was still finishing up, this time with a different person. He slipped by his side and patiently waited for them to finish. 

         “I have been dying to know sir, I know it has nothing to do with your business, but what do you think of the young crime cropping up in the area? Recently it’s been popping up in those as young as fourteen committing crimes as horrible as property destruction and arson!” The man exclaimed, brimming with the curiosity of a journalist. His father sighed before answering. “I am indeed a little worried my children will fall victim and become one of these up and coming troublemakers, but otherwise I am merely disappointed in how far our community has fallen. I no longer feel safe if our building does not have top notch security. I am horrified by the amount of people that die, or are critically wounded by these deranged delinquents.” Furrowing his brows, he contemplates the unfamiliar words. Obviously delinquent meant something similar to troublemaker, but what exactly did die entail? He was old enough to know it meant you were found away for a really long time, and it was bad. But, how long was a long time? How bad was it? His father made it sound very bad, and he shivered at the thought. He hoped he wouldn’t have to experience it.

         “Michael!” His father snapped his fingers in front of his face, and Michael flinched. “It’s time to go.” He stated simply, opening the door and leading him out. Michael was lost in his thoughts-almost ran into a wall again-but he made it outside. His father suddenly turned toward him with an unreadable look. Surely he couldn’t have found out? I was barely out for more than a minute. Michael braced himself. “You did okay.” Michael sagged in surprise. His father had just complimented him. Feeling a little lighter, and perhaps a little guilty, he chased after his father. 

     He had gotten to see a different side of father, and it unsettled him. Yes, it was nice to know he wasn’t just a cold, stern man, but suddenly he couldn’t blame him as much anymore. Everything felt…confusing.

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• Michael    -

      Michael felt a little excited. A little nervous. And perhaps a little mischievous. In fact, he felt a little of everything. He didn’t think he would be able to go to his fathers workplace again, but he was pleasantly surprised. Sadly, he was back in the itchy, suffocating clothing, but no pain meant no gain. Mama had taught him that one yesterday. 

       “You remember the rules from last time. Do not misbehave, or else this will be the last time you come with me.” Michael nodded, silently crossing his fingers behind his back. He wasn’t all that superstitious, but he’d need all the luck he could get today. He’s never gone against his fathers wishes as directly before, and while he was excited, he was also shaking in his boots. Mama also taught him that one.

        Homeschooling was lonely, but he did get to be around Mama and Terry more, which was nice. He had noticed Terry seemed a little…dull…lately, so he did his best to cheer him up. I even gave him my best daffodil bloom. He had smiled at that, but he still seemed worse for wear. Michael sighed, sad thoughts clinging to his dragging feet as he followed father inside the same office as a few days back. 

        Uh-oh. He hadn’t thought of this. He didn’t think he would ever miss having so many people in a room, but his spirits dampened when he saw the smaller groups of people. It would be harder to sneak out, now. Maybe that’ll make it funner? He was horrible with optimism. He sighed quietly, a little deflated, but tried not to let it show as much. His fathers face told him he was successful, at least partly. One saving grace was that he knew his father actually had some important conversations he had to get to. That should distract him enough. Hopefully. 

          He waited patiently for his father to get a little deeper in conversation, ever the blank face. It was the doctor man again. Same dark skin, white coat, and gray hair. They were saying strange words, and Michael wasn’t paying too much attention to the conversation, but he was a little curious-and afraid-that it would get heated again. 

           “…that’s the case, then what would you recommend for treatment?” His father asked

          “From what you’ve told me, it’s currently on the less major for him, so I would suggest therapy, and Xanax whenever you’re ready unless it lets up of course. As for the other, Xanax is a definite yes, and antidepressants.” Dr. Fitzgerald replied gravely 

           Father nodded solemnly, and Michael could gather that whatever they were talking about, it was rather sensitive. Not dwelling, Michael made his way over to the door, which was ajar, as he expected. He made sure his father was focused on the conversation before slipping through the crack, excitement bubbling in his stomach. A familiar white hallway stretched before him and he hurried down it. He glanced wistfully at the courtyard of flowers before entering the Janitors Closet. He didn’t give himself time to think about it because it gave seriously creepy vibes. Hopefully curiosity doesn’t kill this cat, Michael thought with a shiver. Maybe he was superstitious after all.

           Michael hurried to flick on the lights, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding when the steady glow came on. The room was fairly simple, not much laying about. A single blue file cabinet was in the corner, brooms and mops leaning against it. Michael was relieved by its simplicity, though a bit disappointed. The room was white, besides a dated black and white checkerboard floor. Strange for a corporate building, especially of a successful streaming service, but then again no one was going to be going in here. Except for Michael, of course. And the janitor. Michael blinked. He had forgotten, for a janitor's closet there had to be a janitor. He knew he should probably leave to go back into the room before his father or even the janitor found him, but he had made it this far, hadn’t he? A little more exploring couldn’t hurt. 

          He wandered over to the filing cabinet and tugged on its first handle. It resisted, but with another tug it squeaked open. A sea of tan files were crowded inside, and Michael flicked through them mindlessly, seeing some names. Liam, Rose, Heinrick, Thomas, Mason, Vincent, Bleh. All of this is boring. Michael pulled out Liam’s file, his father, and inspected it. He couldn’t read it all too well, being a four year old and all, but he could make out most of the words. 

       Co-founder and current CEO of the Firmin streaming company, Liam Harrison has managed to maintain a perfect track record. But evidence suggests otherwise when it comes to his past. Son of two mothers, one biological, Liam started off as poor before an unknown accident killed his parents. He was fortunately taken in by his non biological mother’s rich extended family, who had disowned her for her sexuality due to it harming their reputation. They did this to help improve their image and sent the young man to a prestigious school. He fought his way through the ranks, and to everyone’s surprise, ended up graduating at the very top of his school. We all know very well what happened after that with his business booming and all, but some aspects of everyone’s favorite businessman are still uncertain.

        Michael stared at it lazily. He didn’t understand much of it, to be honest. Two mamas? Lucky father! Michael internally pouted, thinking of how awesome it would be. They could share the work so mama wouldn’t have to worry so much! He was seriously questioning why people didn’t just get more parents. Surely that would make everything easier. Then again, father had still turned out how he was. Michael shook his head. Shoving his fathers file back in, he was about to pull out an unfamiliar one titled Rose when he heard a dreaded sound. Voices. He quickly shoved himself in the space between the wall and the filing cabinet and wall, acid furiously boiling in his stomach. Sweat appeared on his brow, and suddenly it felt hard to breath and his vision blurred. I shouldn’t have gone against my father. He’s going to find me now. Michael struggled to control his breathing, but he had to be quiet and listen.

      “…I will not give my eldest benzodiazepines.” His fathers voice filtered through the crack in the door, and Michael shivered. Are they talking about Terry?

      “Mr. Harrison. I can see the signs and I know your son has performed self harm. This is the available medication and I know you're against taking them with opioids especially-for good reason. Even so, it is the best and only treatment for this…circumstance. Please. As a doctor and your old friend, I urge you. He’s looking bad.”

       His fathers hand clenched. He never shows anger outwardly. 

       “Dr. Fitzgerald, are you telling me how to assist my son?” Liam hissed quietly, sending a shiver down Michael’s spine. 

       “Yes, Liam. As your son’s doctor, yes.”

       Michael could just imagine his fathers eyes narrowing. “For the last time, I am Mr. Harrison. Now get out.” Michael recognized that tone of voice and knew that conversation was over. He heard footsteps echoing, and was suddenly jump scared by a bang on the door when the steps faded. Does he know I’m here? Does he know I’m listening? But no creak of the door followed. He had just hit it out of anger. 

        Michael sat there for a while. Whether it was two minutes or ten, he didn’t know, but it didn’t matter to him as the stressful silence stretched on. Once his mind was appeased with the amount of silence, Michael slowly crammed his aching and sore body out of the crevice. His body was shaking a little bit and his mind was overloaded. Trembling, he walked over to the door and cracked it open before escaping. 

         Bracing himself against the wall, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes, trying to process everything. It was like biting off more than you can chew. All the information was making Michael’s head spin, and he couldn’t process it. Something was going on with Terry, and father was worried about him. Visibly. His father wasn’t made of stone, Michael wasn’t surprised by the fact that he had feelings, rather he was surprised he was showing them. Usually he put on a faux, “happy” face. 

          Michael shook his head and opened his eyes tentatively. The lights still seemed blinding, but it was less searing. Best not to dwell, the door might not be open if I wait. Michael shivered. That wasn’t his only worry, because father might have found out he went out. Fortunately, the door was open, and Michael slipped in with a blank face despite his emotions. The room was still at a calmly talkative level of noise, but Michael missed the silence all the same. He only liked it when it was the people he loved laughing and talking, like Mama and Terry. It’s been a while since that last happened. A long while. 

        “Michael. Please come talk with me in the hall.” His fathers voice cut through the crowd like a hot knife through butter, while being so, so cold. He scrambled out of the room, schooling his expression from indifference to the fake smile his father wanted from him. His fathers smile dropped like a brick. “Why did you leave the room when I told you not to?” A cold, fearful bead of sweat trickled down the back of Michael’s neck. He fought the urge to squeeze his eyes shut and run away from the problem, instead attempting to think of a believable lie. He couldn’t believe he was going to lie to his father. Don’t be delusional. You haven’t even thought of a lie yet. 

          “Well?” His father demanded, deathly quiet. Michael couldn’t move at all, his body frozen. In an action he was unsure as to how he had accomplished, he pointed at the sign closest to him. 

          His father seemed stumped for once. “You went to the bathroom? You should have…” His father paused. “Well, I was gone…” Michael blinked. He had never truly bested his father before, and he had just done it accidentally. Honestly, he felt just the slightest bit smug, not that he let it show. His father coughed and proceeded to completely change the subject, as if nothing happened. “On another note, we need to talk about how you present yourself.” He just did that. I won. Michael blinked. This was all quite shocking. “Michael.” His father snapped in his face, making Michael flinch. Pulling himself out of his thoughts, he straightened himself up. 

       White hot pain shot across his cheek as his fathers palm slapped his face mercilessly, the force causing Michael’s head to hit the wall. The sound rang in Michael’s ears, overwhelming his mind. Usually, he would cry silently, drowning in self pity and pain. Usually, he would feel upset and hurt by his fathers horrible actions. Kindergarten had taught him something though. A vacant face is the only wall between me and humiliation, or fathers wrath.

       As if he were reading Michael’s thoughts, his father replied. “And that is the problem. That empty, lost in thought expression of yours is not proper for business. A smile–fake or not–is what you wear to business more than a suit. You have the potential, you don’t tend to express your emotions as much as…your brother…but you don’t have the life, the energy that he has. At first I thought that may be worse, but after his fallout, it may be for the best that you're less visibly emotional. Even so, you must learn to put on a smile, no matter how you feel. No more empty expressions, do you understand?” Michael nodded, though he didn’t fully grasp everything his father meant. His father sighed. “I meant now, Michael. We start now.” Michael cocked his head to the side questioningly. “Smile.” Michael nodded vigorously in sudden understanding, a little scared he would get slapped again. 

       “Alright, let’s go.” Father beckoned, deeming Michael’s facial expression amicable enough. Michael followed him, dropping his smile every time father wasn’t looking.