In a Hot Air Balloon with a Rusty Nail (part two)
Title: In a Hot Air Balloon with a Rusty Nail (part two)
Characters: Puck, Sarah, Mrs. Puckerman, Carole, Finn
Warnings: physical and mental abuse by a parental figure
Summary: He knows he doesn't deserve this, knows that Sarah definitely doesn't deserve this, knows that it's wrong and unfair, and when he actually gets a chance to stop it he's a coward.
It’s a Wednesday, and he already hates Wednesdays because they’re hard to spell and it means that he’s only halfway through the week, but this Wednesday his mom brought a creep home and his mom hates when her kids are seen by the men she brings home because they’re a reminder of how old she is and he hates when there are creepy men around Sarah. So that means he and Sarah are killing time in the garage for who knows how fucking long.
He’s kind of bored out of his skull and it’s cold and he’s hungry but there’s only a dull edge of unfairness and injustice sawing away at his chest.
Sarah’s probably getting old enough to know why they’re in the garage but she never asks questions that he doesn’t want to answer.
She’s doing homework and he kind of gets this ache inside him every time he looks at her and her little forehead is scrunched up when she’s trying to figure out a problem and then her eyes get all lit up when she gets it. Sarah’s smart, so smart, and there’s enough of an age difference between them that he never feels jealous, just proud that there’s a Puckerman out there who people won’t laugh at.
“Noah,” she asks, “do you think you could help me with this question?”
Puck sort of stares at her for a little too long. He’s not used to her asking him questions about school stuff because he knows and she knows that he’s shit at it.
“Please? I’m almost positive I’m doing it right but I’m not getting the right answer.”
She pouts, a little, and he guesses that he has no choice in this.
So he puts down the football he’s been tossing from hand to hand and walks over to where she’s sitting on a broken lawn chair with her books and papers on her lap.
“Mr. Puckerman at your services, madam,” he says in his best English accent because he knows it’ll make her laugh and he doesn’t think she laughs enough.
She barely cracks a smile. He gives her a weird look but Sarah doesn’t notice.
“It’s math,” she explains as she hands him the worksheet. “Number twelve.”
He looks at the problem. There’s numbers and letters, and shit, when did they start teaching this stuff in third grade?
His stomach kind of sinks as he realizes that he has no fucking idea how to do a third grade math problem.
Puck turns to Sarah. She’s waiting expectantly, chewing on her lower lip with that undeserved adoration in her eyes.
He tries frantically to think of something he can say to not make himself seem like a fucking idiot. Because Sarah deserves to have someone in her life that she doesn’t think is a complete failure.
“Uh...I don’t think I remember how to do this,” he says. “Been a long time since I was in third grade.”
She nods and he thinks that he’s fucking gotten away with it but then her eyes light up and he sighs because of course she’s gotten an idea.
“Could I just show you what I did and you can tell me if you think I did it right or not?”
“Yeah, sure,” he mutters as she begins to explain it to him.
He still doesn’t get it when she asks, “So what do you think, Noah?”
Puck stares at the dirty concrete floor.
“I don’t know, Sarah,” he hoarsely mumbles. His face is burning and yeah, he knows it’s only his baby sister but he’s fucking mortified.
“I’m in third grade, Noah,” she quietly says. “You’re in high school. Why don’t you know how to do this?”
For some reason this gets to him and his eyes start to burn.
He hates feeling so fucking inadequate and he hates when people make him feel fucking inadequate and hates how he hates Sarah, almost, for making him hate her.
“I’m stupid, okay?” he yells into the air. “Just fucking drop it!”
He regrets it immediately because Sarah shrinks back and her eyes go real big and she looks fucking scared of him and oh god he’s scaring her.
It kicks him in the stomach and bile rises up his throat.
“Bear, I’m so sorry,” he whispers.
Fuck. She’s crying.
“I don’t think you’re stupid, Noah,” she says, tears sliding out of her eyes and her lower lip trembling.
“I’m sorry,” he croaks again. He’s such a fuck-up, making his baby sister cry.
Sarah just sits there looking down at the floor on her broken lawn chair, the book and the papers scattered on the floor where she pushed them off.
He’s about to try to give her a hug because Sarah loves hugs because he’s the only one who gives them to her but he’s scared, so fucking terrified that she won’t want him to touch her.
Then the door to the garage swings open and there’s his mom, standing in the doorway, her mouth tight and her eyes wild.
Fuck.
“Jimmy heard the noise down here and I had to explain that it was my fucking children in the garage acting like little shits and he left because he doesn’t get involved with moms.”
Her voice is low but it’s wavering and shit she’s angry, furious, and he kind of steps to the right a little bit so he’s in front of Sarah because there’s no telling what shit she’ll do when she’s this angry.
“Why do you ruin EVERYTHING?” she shrieks, coming down the stairs towards the both of them.
His mom’s still moving pretty slow so he’s not expecting her to lunge at him. And he tries to move out of the way but fuck she’s fast and he sees her arm swing across and then the back of her hand whips into his face and the wedding ring from her last marriage that she still wears because she thinks he’ll come back slices into his cheek and by slices it really slices because he can feel warm liquid flowing down his face onto the floor and when did he get onto the floor? He’s on his hands and knees on the floor and Sarah’s screaming, one long continuous scream and then the pain hits him and fucking hell it’s bad, so bad, and then he wonders through the white hot pain why Sarah’s still screaming and then he looks up and his mom is throwing things at Sarah and oh god he’s never seen his mom so bat-shit crazy.
Puck manages to get up, dizzy with pain, and runs to Sarah, where she’s hiding behind the car. His mom’s throwing tools and shoes and thank god Sarah has the sense to hide because that was a power saw that just shattered the window of the car.
Sarah looks scared, so scared, and when she sees him she starts crying. He grabs her arm and pulls her with him as he makes a run for the door.
They’re leaving.
His mom screams behind him, and it’s only until they’re outside that he realizes she was saying “get the fuck out.”
They run a block until she’s gasping for breath and he’s faint with the pain. As soon as they stop Sarah collapses, sobbing uncontrollably.
He chokes down the nausea seeping through his body and grabs her tight and picks her up and carries her the rest of the way to Finn’s house.
Sarah’s still crying when they get to the door and when he puts her down so he can ring the doorbell he sees that fuck there’s blood on her shirt and for a panicked, heart-stopping moment he thinks it’s her blood, that’s she’s been hurt, but it’s his.
His hands are shaking from the adrenaline rush and nerves because fuck, is he really doing this? He hasn’t told anyone for seventeen years. And then it hits him like a tidal wave, pulling him under with water flooding his lungs, that he and Sarah will be separated and oh god that’s not happening because he needs Sarah, more than she needs him, probably, and shit he’s crying now, too.
Puck turns around, then, thankful he hasn’t rung the doorbell. Grabbing Sarah’s hand, he starts to walk off of the porch when he hears the door open. Shit.
“Puck?” Carole asks behind him.
He turns around before he can stop himself. Carole gasps when she sees his face.
Her eyes go wide, then her face gets hard. “Did you get into a fight?” she asks disapprovingly.
Puck can’t even trust himself to speak, so he just shakes his head. He stares at his shoes.
“Why are you and Sarah here?”
He doesn’t say anything. He can’t even move.
“Puck!” she says, sharply. His head jerks up.
Before Carole can say anything else, Sarah lets out a sob.
Then she looks at Sarah, really looks at Sarah, and she frowns.
“What’s going on?” she asks him. “Sarah, baby, what is it?”
Then Finn appears in the doorway.
“It’s his mom,” Finn mutters. “She’s crazy.”
“Oh. OH. Oh,” Carole says as she gets it. “Oh honey.” She takes a step forward and pulls Sarah into her arms. Puck can see the tension disappearing from Sarah’s body as she collapses into Carole’s shoulder, sobbing again.
Puck’s shoulders are shaking and why the fuck can’t he get them to stop. He digs his nails into his palms.
“What...what’d she do to you?” Finn asks. Puck’s never seen him so wide-eyed.
Puck tries to do that wry, one-sided smile he likes to do but it comes out more of a chin wobble. “Backhanded me with her ring on.”
Carole looks up, still stroking Sarah’s hair. “Oh my god,” she mouths to him.
She passes Sarah over to Burt, who’s just come outside. “Make her some hot chocolate.”
Then she turns to Puck.
“I’m taking you to Urgent Care,” she says. “You need stitches. And then we are going to the police station to report this.”
The panic is spreading and his hands are shaking even worse and oh god what is happening and he knows Sarah is safe and that’s good enough for him and so before he can change his mind he takes off running.
It’s just too much.
Characters: Puck, Sarah, Mrs. Puckerman, Carole, Finn
Warnings: physical and mental abuse by a parental figure
Summary: He knows he doesn't deserve this, knows that Sarah definitely doesn't deserve this, knows that it's wrong and unfair, and when he actually gets a chance to stop it he's a coward.
It’s a Wednesday, and he already hates Wednesdays because they’re hard to spell and it means that he’s only halfway through the week, but this Wednesday his mom brought a creep home and his mom hates when her kids are seen by the men she brings home because they’re a reminder of how old she is and he hates when there are creepy men around Sarah. So that means he and Sarah are killing time in the garage for who knows how fucking long.
He’s kind of bored out of his skull and it’s cold and he’s hungry but there’s only a dull edge of unfairness and injustice sawing away at his chest.
Sarah’s probably getting old enough to know why they’re in the garage but she never asks questions that he doesn’t want to answer.
She’s doing homework and he kind of gets this ache inside him every time he looks at her and her little forehead is scrunched up when she’s trying to figure out a problem and then her eyes get all lit up when she gets it. Sarah’s smart, so smart, and there’s enough of an age difference between them that he never feels jealous, just proud that there’s a Puckerman out there who people won’t laugh at.
“Noah,” she asks, “do you think you could help me with this question?”
Puck sort of stares at her for a little too long. He’s not used to her asking him questions about school stuff because he knows and she knows that he’s shit at it.
“Please? I’m almost positive I’m doing it right but I’m not getting the right answer.”
She pouts, a little, and he guesses that he has no choice in this.
So he puts down the football he’s been tossing from hand to hand and walks over to where she’s sitting on a broken lawn chair with her books and papers on her lap.
“Mr. Puckerman at your services, madam,” he says in his best English accent because he knows it’ll make her laugh and he doesn’t think she laughs enough.
She barely cracks a smile. He gives her a weird look but Sarah doesn’t notice.
“It’s math,” she explains as she hands him the worksheet. “Number twelve.”
He looks at the problem. There’s numbers and letters, and shit, when did they start teaching this stuff in third grade?
His stomach kind of sinks as he realizes that he has no fucking idea how to do a third grade math problem.
Puck turns to Sarah. She’s waiting expectantly, chewing on her lower lip with that undeserved adoration in her eyes.
He tries frantically to think of something he can say to not make himself seem like a fucking idiot. Because Sarah deserves to have someone in her life that she doesn’t think is a complete failure.
“Uh...I don’t think I remember how to do this,” he says. “Been a long time since I was in third grade.”
She nods and he thinks that he’s fucking gotten away with it but then her eyes light up and he sighs because of course she’s gotten an idea.
“Could I just show you what I did and you can tell me if you think I did it right or not?”
“Yeah, sure,” he mutters as she begins to explain it to him.
He still doesn’t get it when she asks, “So what do you think, Noah?”
Puck stares at the dirty concrete floor.
“I don’t know, Sarah,” he hoarsely mumbles. His face is burning and yeah, he knows it’s only his baby sister but he’s fucking mortified.
“I’m in third grade, Noah,” she quietly says. “You’re in high school. Why don’t you know how to do this?”
For some reason this gets to him and his eyes start to burn.
He hates feeling so fucking inadequate and he hates when people make him feel fucking inadequate and hates how he hates Sarah, almost, for making him hate her.
“I’m stupid, okay?” he yells into the air. “Just fucking drop it!”
He regrets it immediately because Sarah shrinks back and her eyes go real big and she looks fucking scared of him and oh god he’s scaring her.
It kicks him in the stomach and bile rises up his throat.
“Bear, I’m so sorry,” he whispers.
Fuck. She’s crying.
“I don’t think you’re stupid, Noah,” she says, tears sliding out of her eyes and her lower lip trembling.
“I’m sorry,” he croaks again. He’s such a fuck-up, making his baby sister cry.
Sarah just sits there looking down at the floor on her broken lawn chair, the book and the papers scattered on the floor where she pushed them off.
He’s about to try to give her a hug because Sarah loves hugs because he’s the only one who gives them to her but he’s scared, so fucking terrified that she won’t want him to touch her.
Then the door to the garage swings open and there’s his mom, standing in the doorway, her mouth tight and her eyes wild.
Fuck.
“Jimmy heard the noise down here and I had to explain that it was my fucking children in the garage acting like little shits and he left because he doesn’t get involved with moms.”
Her voice is low but it’s wavering and shit she’s angry, furious, and he kind of steps to the right a little bit so he’s in front of Sarah because there’s no telling what shit she’ll do when she’s this angry.
“Why do you ruin EVERYTHING?” she shrieks, coming down the stairs towards the both of them.
His mom’s still moving pretty slow so he’s not expecting her to lunge at him. And he tries to move out of the way but fuck she’s fast and he sees her arm swing across and then the back of her hand whips into his face and the wedding ring from her last marriage that she still wears because she thinks he’ll come back slices into his cheek and by slices it really slices because he can feel warm liquid flowing down his face onto the floor and when did he get onto the floor? He’s on his hands and knees on the floor and Sarah’s screaming, one long continuous scream and then the pain hits him and fucking hell it’s bad, so bad, and then he wonders through the white hot pain why Sarah’s still screaming and then he looks up and his mom is throwing things at Sarah and oh god he’s never seen his mom so bat-shit crazy.
Puck manages to get up, dizzy with pain, and runs to Sarah, where she’s hiding behind the car. His mom’s throwing tools and shoes and thank god Sarah has the sense to hide because that was a power saw that just shattered the window of the car.
Sarah looks scared, so scared, and when she sees him she starts crying. He grabs her arm and pulls her with him as he makes a run for the door.
They’re leaving.
His mom screams behind him, and it’s only until they’re outside that he realizes she was saying “get the fuck out.”
They run a block until she’s gasping for breath and he’s faint with the pain. As soon as they stop Sarah collapses, sobbing uncontrollably.
He chokes down the nausea seeping through his body and grabs her tight and picks her up and carries her the rest of the way to Finn’s house.
Sarah’s still crying when they get to the door and when he puts her down so he can ring the doorbell he sees that fuck there’s blood on her shirt and for a panicked, heart-stopping moment he thinks it’s her blood, that’s she’s been hurt, but it’s his.
His hands are shaking from the adrenaline rush and nerves because fuck, is he really doing this? He hasn’t told anyone for seventeen years. And then it hits him like a tidal wave, pulling him under with water flooding his lungs, that he and Sarah will be separated and oh god that’s not happening because he needs Sarah, more than she needs him, probably, and shit he’s crying now, too.
Puck turns around, then, thankful he hasn’t rung the doorbell. Grabbing Sarah’s hand, he starts to walk off of the porch when he hears the door open. Shit.
“Puck?” Carole asks behind him.
He turns around before he can stop himself. Carole gasps when she sees his face.
Her eyes go wide, then her face gets hard. “Did you get into a fight?” she asks disapprovingly.
Puck can’t even trust himself to speak, so he just shakes his head. He stares at his shoes.
“Why are you and Sarah here?”
He doesn’t say anything. He can’t even move.
“Puck!” she says, sharply. His head jerks up.
Before Carole can say anything else, Sarah lets out a sob.
Then she looks at Sarah, really looks at Sarah, and she frowns.
“What’s going on?” she asks him. “Sarah, baby, what is it?”
Then Finn appears in the doorway.
“It’s his mom,” Finn mutters. “She’s crazy.”
“Oh. OH. Oh,” Carole says as she gets it. “Oh honey.” She takes a step forward and pulls Sarah into her arms. Puck can see the tension disappearing from Sarah’s body as she collapses into Carole’s shoulder, sobbing again.
Puck’s shoulders are shaking and why the fuck can’t he get them to stop. He digs his nails into his palms.
“What...what’d she do to you?” Finn asks. Puck’s never seen him so wide-eyed.
Puck tries to do that wry, one-sided smile he likes to do but it comes out more of a chin wobble. “Backhanded me with her ring on.”
Carole looks up, still stroking Sarah’s hair. “Oh my god,” she mouths to him.
She passes Sarah over to Burt, who’s just come outside. “Make her some hot chocolate.”
Then she turns to Puck.
“I’m taking you to Urgent Care,” she says. “You need stitches. And then we are going to the police station to report this.”
The panic is spreading and his hands are shaking even worse and oh god what is happening and he knows Sarah is safe and that’s good enough for him and so before he can change his mind he takes off running.
It’s just too much.