Control
Jack remembered that day vividly. He had been five years old and it was April 23rd, his parents' anniversary. At that age he didn't quite grasp the concept of an anniversary, much less love, but he knew that this day was special to his parents somehow. He was going to do something good to surprise them and make their day even better than before.
As was his usual pattern on Saturday mornings Jack woke up in the early morning hours to watch his favorite cartoons. Slipping out of his comforter emblazoned with a bright red fighter pilot against a blue background large feet disproportional in size to a rather small and skinny body hopped gingerly onto the floor. Careful not to make any noise Jack shuffled out of his room and padded across the house. Instead of stopping into the living room, this time he headed straight for the kitchen.
Still very conscious of his noise level, Jack tiptoed to the cupboard and pulled out a box of chocolate cake mix. Every important day deserved cake. He had seen his mother do this hundreds of times and baking a cake didn't appear too difficult. Replaying the instances where he had seen Margot Shephard bake a cake from a box mix, the slight boy remembered that she had other ingredients too. He gathered a large ceramic bowl, oil, and eggs and set them onto the lowest counter where he could reach them by standing on his toes.
First he dumped the mix into the bowl. Next came the hard part. He couldn't quite remember how much of everything else went into the mix. Remembering having heard the phrase "bigger is better" from somewhere, Jack decided that he should add as much of the other ingredients as possible. Slim, long fingered hands cracked the rest of the eggs from the carton into the bowl. Next he dumped in the rest of the bottle of oil. He then remembered that his mother usually added water as well so he placed the bowl under the sink and filled it to the brim with water.
With a grunt he picked up the bowl from the sink to set it back onto the counter so he could stir his concoction. However, the bowl was much heavier on its way out than it was on its way in. Not being prepared for this extra weight, Jack's fingers slipped off the bowl, losing control and sending it crashing to the ground.
When the bowl hit the tile it splintered into many small, sharp fragments and the makeshift batter was sent flying across the kitchen, splashing the cupboard walls and painting the floor a muddy brown. Jack stared at the mess for a few moments, dumbfounded. He had tried to do a good thing and now it was going to get him in trouble. Grabbing the roll of paper towels, Jack knelt squarely into the large puddle and began sopping up the batter to little effect.
"Jack, what did you do?"
Even from across the room and out of the mess, his father loomed over him. The boy surrounded by a poorly made batter, broken shards of ceramic, and cracked egg shells looked up with frightened hazel eyes. "I was- I was trying to make a cake for you and Mom," he explained through trembling lips.
"That's no cake. Have you seen what you've done?"
"Yes..." replied a barely audible voice.
Christian Shephard glowered at his son and placed his hands on his hips. "Get over here, Jack, I'm not going to step in that shit." Obediently, Jack walked toward Christian, not daring to look at the older man and instead stared at his socks which were now completely soaked.
When Jack reached his father, Christian swooped down to pick up his son and threw him over his shoulder. "We can't have you getting the carpet dirty too, especially not today," he said as he carried Jack to the bathroom to clean himself off. "Do you have any idea how much it would cost to get those stains out? Of course you don't."
Upon entering the bathroom, Christian roughly set Jack down inside the tub. "Clean yourself off, son, then go to your room. You've caused enough trouble today." With that he closed the door behind him to help his wife clean the previously spotless kitchen.
Without another thought, Jack turned on the water. The shower head sprayed his fully clothed body with a warm stream as Jack simply sat in the tub, hanging his head and watching the clear mix with brown and swirl down the drain. It was in that moment with eyes stinging with tears which were instantly washed away by the shower that he vowed never to lose control like that again. He couldn't be a disappointment anymore. In fact, he would be better than that. He would be perfect.
OOC: Mun note- this post has exactly 815 words, holy irony Batman!
As was his usual pattern on Saturday mornings Jack woke up in the early morning hours to watch his favorite cartoons. Slipping out of his comforter emblazoned with a bright red fighter pilot against a blue background large feet disproportional in size to a rather small and skinny body hopped gingerly onto the floor. Careful not to make any noise Jack shuffled out of his room and padded across the house. Instead of stopping into the living room, this time he headed straight for the kitchen.
Still very conscious of his noise level, Jack tiptoed to the cupboard and pulled out a box of chocolate cake mix. Every important day deserved cake. He had seen his mother do this hundreds of times and baking a cake didn't appear too difficult. Replaying the instances where he had seen Margot Shephard bake a cake from a box mix, the slight boy remembered that she had other ingredients too. He gathered a large ceramic bowl, oil, and eggs and set them onto the lowest counter where he could reach them by standing on his toes.
First he dumped the mix into the bowl. Next came the hard part. He couldn't quite remember how much of everything else went into the mix. Remembering having heard the phrase "bigger is better" from somewhere, Jack decided that he should add as much of the other ingredients as possible. Slim, long fingered hands cracked the rest of the eggs from the carton into the bowl. Next he dumped in the rest of the bottle of oil. He then remembered that his mother usually added water as well so he placed the bowl under the sink and filled it to the brim with water.
With a grunt he picked up the bowl from the sink to set it back onto the counter so he could stir his concoction. However, the bowl was much heavier on its way out than it was on its way in. Not being prepared for this extra weight, Jack's fingers slipped off the bowl, losing control and sending it crashing to the ground.
When the bowl hit the tile it splintered into many small, sharp fragments and the makeshift batter was sent flying across the kitchen, splashing the cupboard walls and painting the floor a muddy brown. Jack stared at the mess for a few moments, dumbfounded. He had tried to do a good thing and now it was going to get him in trouble. Grabbing the roll of paper towels, Jack knelt squarely into the large puddle and began sopping up the batter to little effect.
"Jack, what did you do?"
Even from across the room and out of the mess, his father loomed over him. The boy surrounded by a poorly made batter, broken shards of ceramic, and cracked egg shells looked up with frightened hazel eyes. "I was- I was trying to make a cake for you and Mom," he explained through trembling lips.
"That's no cake. Have you seen what you've done?"
"Yes..." replied a barely audible voice.
Christian Shephard glowered at his son and placed his hands on his hips. "Get over here, Jack, I'm not going to step in that shit." Obediently, Jack walked toward Christian, not daring to look at the older man and instead stared at his socks which were now completely soaked.
When Jack reached his father, Christian swooped down to pick up his son and threw him over his shoulder. "We can't have you getting the carpet dirty too, especially not today," he said as he carried Jack to the bathroom to clean himself off. "Do you have any idea how much it would cost to get those stains out? Of course you don't."
Upon entering the bathroom, Christian roughly set Jack down inside the tub. "Clean yourself off, son, then go to your room. You've caused enough trouble today." With that he closed the door behind him to help his wife clean the previously spotless kitchen.
Without another thought, Jack turned on the water. The shower head sprayed his fully clothed body with a warm stream as Jack simply sat in the tub, hanging his head and watching the clear mix with brown and swirl down the drain. It was in that moment with eyes stinging with tears which were instantly washed away by the shower that he vowed never to lose control like that again. He couldn't be a disappointment anymore. In fact, he would be better than that. He would be perfect.
OOC: Mun note- this post has exactly 815 words, holy irony Batman!