Fighting Oblivion

By Angelfirenze

Disclaimer: Not mine. Never were or will be.

Summary: This is to cheer myself up in case John/John loses ()...Anyway, I was listening to Thursday last night and came up with this...A collection of Bobby drabbles featuring Thursday lyrics, starting when he was eight years old. It's 1969, but that's probably irrelevant.

Rating: R just for caution...

Pieces, part I

Lalalalalalala, listen to yourselves go on and on as if you spoke to someone else...

Her voice ripped at him, cutting him as surely as the knife she wielded in one shaky, bloodstained hand.

"Ro-bert," her singsongmaybehappyprobablynot voice called. He knew better than to not answer, but still he didn't. Peeking through the slats in his closet door, he tried his hardest not to cry. It was difficult, with the fiery nicks and slivers of broken glass caught in his fingers and the slippery redness that leaked from them. Slowly, in his head, he counted. In Spanish, the way he'd learned with Mrs. Ramos.

Uno...Dos...Tres...Cuatro...Cinco...Seis...Siete...Ocho...Nueve...Di--

"Robert!" she called, his mother, and this time her voice was like the serrated edge of her weapon. But still, he didn't move. Trying not ignore her, he set about prying the largest pieces from the bloodied, shredded skin of his shaking fingers. It burned, the glass. The sound of her voice on his ears. And then she was gone and he could come out.

Between the footsteps I hear crickets in the trees...A silent army marching with me through a swarm of bees...A needle dragged across the record, slowing down...and on Division St., the lights are dying out...

He found her curled up in the corner, shivering as though she'd caught a chill. Slowly, carefully, he walked past her to get to the first aid kit. She was as bloody as he. The blood from her hands ran down her arms and stained her shirt deep red. He knows how to clean and dress them now, with bandages. He was a fast learner. All his teachers said so. It was why he was in special, accelerated classes at school. They all called him Robert. But he reasoned that they only did it because they were teachers. Adults.

They didn't know him at all.

Fall down! Pass out! Get up again! I can't keep repeating...