Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-33904527-20190305214046

Heather chewed her lip anxiously, trying to keep a cheerful expression. She prodded the plastic broccoli on her plate with her fork. It slid squeakily on the ceramic, knocking into the plastic beef and plastic fries. The pressure was getting to her. With each passing second, she found the lines slipping away in her head. Staying sharp was becoming much harder than it usually was.

She glanced to Tom. He was pretend chewing his ‘food’ with a forced smile, keeping his head pointed firmly downwards. Tom was always better at keeping things together during performances. He’d only had one incident the entire time they had been there, though it was a costly one. The scar on his left cheek was a constant reminder of that.

Taking a sip of orange juice (water and orange dye), Kathy gently kicked her husband, Joseph, under the table, waiting for him to pick up the hint. Her skewed makeup sat wonkily on her face, a clear result of little experience and shaky hands. However badly it had been applied mattered not to her, at least she had some sort of mask to hide her sorrowful expression.

A few seconds passed before Joseph got the message. He pushed himself out from the table, the chair making an ear-piercing scrape along the tiled floor.

“This…dinner is s-sure taking…a while.”

Joseph’s arms were stiff as they reached over to the wall, pulling the kitchen clock into his hands. Without a moment of hesitation, he tossed it through the window, the breakaway glass landing upon the floor with a loud clatter.

“Now…uh…Joseph, wha…why would you d-do something like that?” Kathy asked softly.

“Because…um…” A wash of panic spread through Joseph’s mind. What was the punchline? What was the fucking punchline? How could he have forgotten?

“Because…I w-wanted…” It was on the tip of his tongue, right there in his head. He didn’t dare to look, but Joseph could feel Sebastien’s gaze trace along his face, like a razor. Flashing a look of desperation back to the table, Joseph saw Tom began to discreetly mouth something.

“Wanted…to…make…time…fly.”

A loud thud almost startled Heather and Kathy out of their chairs as Sebastien’s greasy palm slammed Tom’s head into the table.

“Tom. Tom, tom, tom, tom, tom, tom. You know you can’t break character during a performance.” Sebastien’s slimy voice began.

Bulging veins pushed against Tom’s forehead, Sebastien’s grip like a vice on his skull. Tom moaned quietly, a trickle of blood dripping down his cheek.

“I’m sure your…father…” Arthur paused, smiling widely at Joseph’s terrified expression.

“I’m sure your father is perfectly capable of remembering lines himself. Quite kind of you to think it was necessary to give him a hand. Hey, Tom. Tom, look at me.”

Tom peeled his face away from the broken plate, bitter tears in his eyes. A sizeable purple bruise was forming on his forehead. Heather clenched her fists, never wanting to hurt the vile man in front of her more than this very moment.

“What are the rules, Tom? Tell me the rules. Tell me the rules, Tom.”

Sebastien leaned in close, his hot breath wafting against Tom’s face. His powerful grasp was now on Tom’s throat, just soft enough for him to choke out an answer. A fixed, bug-eyed look persisted on Sebastien’s face, just visible through Tom’s blurred vision.

“Don’t d-deviate…from the script…don’t break ch-character…”

“And? What’s next, hmm? What’s next, Tom?”

“D-d-don’t help the others…”

“Excellent!” Arthur shouted, freeing his grip. Tom took a deep breath inwards, small blobs of spit escaping his mouth as he coughed and spluttered over the table. His throat felt like it was stuffed with barbed wire.

“Well, that’s a wrap, folks. I’ll cut out the ‘wanted to make time fly’ segment, we don’t really need that. Y’know, I feel like we really got some great footage there. We really are making progress. From me, Sebastien, that’s us nearly done. Isn’t that exciting! Freedom awaits. Soon, I promise.”

A deep sense of self-satisfaction sat plainly on Sebastien’s face. He bowed mockingly. Heather scowled, Kathy covered her face in her hands. Tom gently rubbed his forehead with his palm, wiping away the sweat. Sebastien silently shuffled to the kitchen door, unlocking it with a quick swipe of the key card in his pocket. Slamming it behind him, the family breathed a sigh of relief, sinking down into their chairs. 