#but what a privilege to gain a peek into their wrenched mind'

[ainosgarden]

saltburn is what happens when an ordinary person thinks they have a twisted mind and proceeds to make a movie to brag about it

[septic-dr-schneep]

JSE Fanfiction - A Different Self

Summary: Jameson has memories of another time in his life which have been carefully and deeply repressed. Who knew that something as simple as Movie Night would be the thing to draw them out?

The modern television was one of the oddest contraptions Jameson had the privilege of witnessing, he mused. It was twice his size, slim and sleek, with astonishing depth of color—not at all like the boxy black-and-white contraptions he knew, but naturally that meant he had no idea how to work the newfangled thing. He had gotten somewhat more practiced with the remote, but when it was Movie Night, he opted to forgo joining the fight that ensued over who had control over it. All of them spoke over each other, gradually growing in volume and animation until the loudest finally won out.

“C’mon, man, we watched your movie last time!”

“And we all enjoyed it, didn’t we? So why can’t we watch the sequel tonight?!”

“So much was packed into the first one, I barely remember everything that happened!”

“Well, we could watch that one again—”

“No!”

“Hey, why don’t we watch an old classic—?”

“No-o-o, we’ve seen that a hundred times!”

“I’m not in the mood for any of that! There’s a good movie I’ve saved on Channel 7—”

“Channel 7’s never got anything good!”

“Just gimme the remote, I’ll find something—”

“Hey, I picked it up first so I get first dibs!”

“Give it!”

When this kind of tiff was going on, no one would ever expected that those four were the older, more mature Egos in the household, Jameson mused with amused resignation, shaking his head as he took another handful of popcorn. He took his time munching them, forcing himself to focus on the taste rather than the escalating noises that made him want to cover his ears.

After a struggle that he didn’t quite know what to make of, Schneep was flung onto the couch beside him, looking decidedly confused as to what had just happened. A moment or two later, he shook it off, shifting to brush down his rumpled clothing and give Jameson a sideways glance. His eyebrows rose.

“Well, look at the little one who sits here eating the corn without care in the world!” he exclaimed, swatting him lightly.

“I’ve no chance in that fight! Why waste an opportunity to snatch up the goods while they bicker?” Jameson pointed out, tapping the side of his nose. Schneep couldn’t help but laugh at that, quickly leaning back into the couch cushions to dodge one of the others’ elbows as they escalated from a verbal match to a lighthearted brawl.

“This is a good point.” Pausing, Schneep leaned on his arm with more weight than was strictly necessary as he mused, “Although…I notice you’re stealing the particular little buttery ones. Those are the ones I like.”

“Ah, but they’re in the bowl with all the others!” Jameson countered, elbowing him playfully. “They aren’t reserved for you!”

The doctor tilted his head, seeming to consider, and then swatted Jameson a second time without warning, knocking the kernels from his hand and scattering them across the couch and the floor. Jameson gasped, rounding on him incredulously, and Schneep grinned cockily. “That does not mean you won’t have to fight for rights to them!”

“The nerve! I’ll show you, sir!”

Their fight was less overt than the others, though no less a tangle of limbs as they grabbed at each other’s hands to keep them from reaching the rest of the precious snack. When handfuls were managed, they usually ended up throwing them at each other rather than eating them, but somehow they were laughing all the while and something in Jameson’s mind knew that they both needed it, despite the mess. Times had been stressful lately, and this was fun!

When Jameson had managed to throw a leg in front of Schneep’s arms and made another snatch for the bowl, however, the television remote made its escape from the similar wrestling match nearby, landing in the bowl with a finalizing clank. Seizing the opportunity and the remote, he began brushing salt from it as the others spun around, all pinning wide eyes on the prize.

“Jameson…” Jackieboy began, shifting restlessly.

“Jem, c’mon, I had it first!” Chase interrupted him, struggling for breath where he still dangled a few inches off the ground. Marvin peeked out from behind him; his arms were lodged around Chase’s waist, as if he’d intended to shake the remote away from him.

“Perhaps I could give it a go!” Jameson suggested cheerfully, blinking up at them with a bright, innocent smile.

“Don’t trust him!” Schneep burst out, pushing Jameson’s leg off his lap and taking the (mostly empty) popcorn bowl protectively. “He is a rascal!”

Ignoring him, Jameson just kept on smiling. He knew none of the others would tussle with him as fiercely as they would with each other; in their minds, he was meant to be kept safe and preserved!

Much to his delight, he could visibly see them melting for his sweet smile and puppy eyes. Chase was the first to break, sighing good-naturedly as he was planted back on the floor. Running a hand through his hair, he came around to sit on Jameson’s left. Marvin followed, sprawling back on his right, and Jackieboy sank down beside him as Schneep slid sideways to make room.

With one last glance at Jameson that promised eventual retribution for the popcorn, the doctor curled up on Jackieboy’s right, and Jameson’s smile widened into a grin as he began flipping through channels. There were so many channels to choose from, colors of all shades washing over his eyes; it was a treat!

Every so often, he paused on a channel, watching whatever was happening for a few moments before moving on. The cartoons were a viable option; they were one of his favorite activities, but he wanted to go somewhere he hadn’t before! A television was meant to transport him to foreign lands, wasn’t it? As he gained confidence, he clicked faster, pictures and sounds blurring.

“Aw, Jem, you’re getting to the documentaries now,” Chase tutted disappointedly, sliding an arm around his shoulders. “Can we go back to the movies? If you give me the remote, I can find us a good one, I promise! Or maybe we could just look in the DVD cabinet—” His next suggestion was cut off by a particularly loud explosion from the speakers and he jumped, yelping, “Whoa, turn it down!”

Jameson didn’t. He barely even heard him, staring with wide eyes at what was happening on the screen. It took less than ten seconds. With a spattering of static and a nauseating plummet in his stomach, he was transported. This was a land he didn’t want to revisit, but he couldn’t look away. He couldn’t escape. Memories poured into him, surrounding him, coming to life before him.

He was there.

Planes sputtering and smoking as they spiraled out of the air, clouds of dust kicking up under soldiers’ feet, under his feet, grit and sweat and blood and smoke choking every breath he took and bringing tears to his eyes as he dragged himself under the cover of rubble—Pebbles and bullet casings scraping his hands and knees as he lunged for a dead man’s weapon, praying it still had ammunition—And their voices. Screams and desperate pleas clamoring against his ears, tangled up in the ugly, foreign curses that were getting closer and closer with every heartbeat—

The sounds on the television disappeared abruptly; Chase had taken the remote before it fell from his limp hands and muted them, but before he could even open his mouth to make a comment, Jameson was moving, scrambling to get out from under his arm. He couldn’t—He couldn’t—He didn’t even know what he couldn’t do; all thoughts were consumed by the sensation of the sweat pooling in the dip of his collarbones and clinging to his back as he slid onto the floor, dragging himself—anywhere. Away. All that mattered was away.

“Jameson?”

“Jackson!”

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“What’s happening, J…? I c-can’t breathe—”

“What are you doing?”

“He’s already gone, Jackson, you gotta leave him!”

“Jem? Schneep, can you see if he’s—?”

“Ergeben Sie sich, Lakenpatscher, oder Ihre Freunde werden nacheinander getötet!”

“Jamie—Stop for a tick, something’s wrong! Let me have a look at you.”

Right behind him. “Get away from me!”

A hand was held out in his peripheral vision to pull him up and Jameson lunged at it. They weren’t playing anymore; this was the hand of an enemy and he had a chance with it, viciously wrenching it the wrong way as he rolled sideways and lashed out, pummeling the doctor’s chest and shoulders with his legs to knock the wind out of him. As Schneep fell back, Jameson lunged upright, eyes wild.

“Keep away!” he snarled, a fresh dose of dread pulsing through him when the other barely reacted. He just kept staring up at him, looking far more surprised than threatened. Suppressing a terrible shudder, he repeated fiercely, “You keep away, Kraut, or I swear I’ll kill ya!”

“Wh—What?” Schneep stammered, clutching his twisted wrist in disbelief.

Reeling back, Jameson hurriedly patted himself down, searching for any kind of weapon and panting erratically as he found none. “There has to be—Why don’t I have—?!” For a split second he froze, hesitating uncertainly when he saw a glimpse of the living room and his doctor lying on the floor, and then static created an agonizing buzz in his ears and it was just their awful battlefield.

His clothes were strangling him, his skin was burning and there was something wrapped around his throat that kept him from calling for help as the German got back up. Jameson knew he was defenseless, weaponless, fear churning through him.

He’s one of t̷he̛m! his mind howled. He’ll bring more and they’ll ki͟ll̶ you like they’ve killed your fr͟i͘e̡nds! Ki̵ll h͡i̶m̡ fi̷r̛s̶t͜!

“Jameson!”

That brogue was different, familiar—Irish. Neutral? Volunteer. Ally.

“Thank heavens,” he gasped, backing away as the Irishman came between him and the enemy. “I—I’ve lost my weapons! D’you have anything on you to spare?! We’ve gotta kill the bugger before he reports back! Gimme a knife or a pistol, something! Help me!”

Worry creasing his brows, Jackieboy held a hand out to Schneep, keeping it there so he would stay back as he faced their youngest. “Jameson,” he murmured pleadingly, placatingly, “do you know where you are?”

“Where I—?” Jameson stopped up short, shaking his head in amazement. What kind of question was that?! This was battle, this was fear and adrenaline and frantic self-preservation against that blasted monster and his evil!

But…did Jameson know where he was? Where was he?

The more he thought about the question, the louder the static around him became, until he could barely keep his feet underneath him. Lifting his hands to his ears as vertigo clawed up his back, he hissed tremulously, “My head…hurts…”

When he next blinked, his vision was enveloped by blood dripping and fangs bared in a gleeful, mocking grin, but it was only there for an instant before the world reset and he realized he was slumped against the wall in the hallway with Jackieboy at his side.

“JJ?” he ventured cautiously.

“What—? Why am I—?” Dazed, unnerved and sticky with sweat, Jameson promptly started shivering, flinching when Jackieboy tried to touch him. “We were sitting on the couch…weren’t we? H-How long has it been?”

“Only two or three minutes,” Marvin answered gingerly.

“I think you had a panic attack,” Chase murmured breathlessly from where he was standing just behind Jackieboy. Jameson immediately looked up at the sound of his voice, grief and hope stirring simultaneously. Chase. Chase meant safety.

When Jameson reached out, the vlogger didn’t waste any time coming round to his side. His squeeze to Jameson’s shaking hand was tight enough to hurt, but Jameson didn’t mention it. The pain was grounding him. He was here, with them, and nowhere else.

“Da,” he choked out, leaning exhaustedly into Chase’s chest as he enveloped him.

“It’s okay,” Chase soothed, though they both knew it wasn’t. “You’re gonna be alright, Jem, I promise.”

“I d-didn’t mean to hurt anyone, I just wanted to…to…” He’d wanted to survive, no matter the cost. Who had he been for the past few minutes? He certainly hadn’t been himself or if he had, it was a different self, one he had long since buried. Those memories had never surfaced before. He didn’t even remember living through them.

After an amount of time Jameson didn’t bother to keep track of, Chase asked him softly if he was okay to stand. He nodded, winding his arms around Chase’s neck for support as he was lifted onto his own two feet. He wobbled for a few moments, his knees weak, and then he took a deep breath, glancing shakily around at the others.

“Are we sure that was just a panic attack?” Marvin broke the silence, his concern uncharacteristically exposed in his voice.

“By the look of it, he had the small disassociation,” Schneep commented, wincing as he examined the fresh bruising on his wrist left by Jameson’s fingers. “I expect it was a flashback of some kind. Jamie, if you tell us what you were seeing, is possible I could find something to—”

“No! S-Stop, stop talking,” Jameson burst out, clumsily, precariously wrenching away from Chase and shoving past Schneep as an entirely new wave of panic, agitation and remorse boiled up from his stomach.

He was here again, he reminded himself anxiously. He knew without the shadow of a doubt that Schneep was a caretaker, a friend, but his voice—Just hearing that accent and that broken English made his skin crawl. Feeling faint, Jameson leaned against the wall for support as he moved. He had to get to his room, he had to—he couldn’t face them like this.

“Whatever just happened is not something to just brush away like little normal incident!” Schneep protested as he followed. “I can see you’re in pain. Let me—”

“I don’t want anything, especially not from you!”

At that the doctor stilled, the bewilderment shifting ever so slightly with a flash of hurt, and Jameson ran a harried hand across his face, smearing away the tears that threatened.

“I do not understand…” Schneep admitted, shuffling forward testingly and then hesitating as Jameson stiffened. “I am the good doctor. You know me. Why won’t you let me near?”

“Just—” His next breath stuck in his throat for several seconds until he leaned his head against the wall, closing his eyes to block out the intrusive thoughts drifting through. “—cork it till I can catch my breath again.”

“Please, Jamie, I know what this is like. The panic, the breathlessness, I’ve gone through it before! I want to help you.”

“No! Listen, just shut it if y’know what’s good for you!”

“Jamie…!”

Exhaling hysterically, Jameson threw up his hands as the tears resurfaced, stinging hotly with guilt and anger as he hollered, “I can’t look at you right now, I can’t listen to you! You’re—Doc, you say one more word and I’ll—well, I-I’ll—! Ugh, holy horsefeathers! Bugger it! Just stay away from me until I know what I’m doing!”

With that he stormed off, stumbling every few feet until he grabbed onto his bedroom door handle for support. He ended up alarming himself with the thunderous slam his door made as he closed it, promptly collapsing back onto the floor and dissolving into silent, humiliated tears.

Everything about that had been wrong. They would worry about him. They would ask him again if he needed help after some time had passed. How could he possibly begin to explain what he needed when he didn’t even understand it for himself?

How could he ever start to know what he was doing?

Oh, doǹ’t͡ ́yo̷u worr̶y, p͝up͢pet.

I'҉l͘l͠ ́tea͜c̴h yo̧u.

[jxsticeincognito]

Day 1 - Memories

For @mattmelloweek

An Instant Disliking

I remember the day he came to Wammy’s House as if it was yesterday. No one was supposed to make a huge deal about someone new coming here, but this guy seemed to want that to happen. He was only young but he seemed to like the attention. He didn’t seem remotely bothered that the reason he was here was because his parents had died. Did I mention that Wammy’s House is an orphanage? Yeah, I probably should’ve. Oh well, now you know.       He only had a few things with him and one of those things was a tattered looking Game Boy. We didn’t really have things like that here and as such everyone seemed to find it really interesting and it wasn’t long before this guy became the new ‘cool kid’. Everyone always wanted to play with him. Turns out that gaming was his favourite thing to do and everyone, for reasons I still can’t understand, found this really interesting and exciting. But I wasn’t interested. I had always thought that gaming was a pretty pointless thing to do. I decided pretty early on that I didn’t like Matt. He didn’t seem to care. He was more bothered about all these ‘friends’ he had acquired.       Mr. Popular. Though, it was fairly obvious that they were more interested in his game console than him, but he didn’t seem to care. Whatever the reason, he was the one everyone wanted to be friends with. Like I told you earlier, I didn’t mind being on my own and I didn’t mind not having any friends, but still… there was something about this guy that made me… almost jealous. I mean, it wasn’t like he’d come here and stolen all my friends… I didn’t even have any! But before him, there had never been anyone here who was this popular.       Of course, there was L, but that was a different kind of popular. And I can’t even remember the last time anyone even saw him. Most of our interaction with him was through a computer screen, though I was one of the few people who had actually seen and met L before, along with my constant competitor, Near. L wasn’t someone you’d call a friend… more of an idol, a mentor. And besides, it was respect and admiration that we had for him. Whereas this guy… Matt… he was just a random nobody who happened to be addicted to gaming. He was the shiny new toy that no one could get enough of. I didn’t really see what all the fuss was about. But a part of me wished that sometimes people would look at me like that.       I know, I know, I said I didn’t really like making friends or, whatever… but seeing something like that kinda makes you wish for it. At least a little bit. I couldn’t help but wonder what that was like. To have everyone fanning around you like you’re the best thing since chocolate. I had never experienced anything like that, so, naturally I was curious.       Though, that soon turned to jealousy. I had never seen anyone here act like that around anyone before, and until I did, I would never have thought that’d be something I’d want. But I guess, seeing it in front of my own eyes, it made me realise just how lonely I was. Though, I was fully aware that everyone wanted his games, rather than him. But still… no one ever paid attention to me like that. I guess I kinda started to resent him.

I suppose it probably wouldn’t have bothered me that much if he didn’t insist on playing his games right under my nose. He seemed to attract a crowd wherever he went. There’s a big room in Wammy’s House, kinda like a common room in a university dorm. Just a place with an old TV, lots and lots of bookcases, and a games cupboard. Not the games this guy was used to… I’m talking board games and puzzles.       It was generally a nice, quiet place to hang out. I would normally sit in the bay window and read. No one distracted me, no one interrupted me… they just left me to my own devices. But this guy… this arrogant, popular, self-righteous weirdo… he certainly didn’t respect that that’s what I wanted. When I came into this room to read, people knew they should just leave me alone. He didn’t.       Of course, no one told him this, so I guess he didn’t really know… but still, if you see someone sitting alone with their head buried in a book, completely oblivious to whatever’s going on around them, you leave them to it. You do not do what he did. ‘Hey… who’s the kid in the window?’ I heard him ask one of the girls that had been pining after him ever since he arrived. ‘Oh, that’s Mello’ she said, nonchalantly. ‘Mello, huh?’ he said before scoffing. ‘What’s he doing over there by himself?’ ‘Reading’ I ignored their conversation and carried on reading. This book was more interesting than whatever that guy had to say anyway. But did that stop him? Oh no. ‘Hey, Mello! Don’t you wanna come and have a go on my Game Boy?’ he called. The tone of his voice almost suggested that I should feel super privileged to be asked to play with him.       Who the hell did he think he was? But I didn’t respond. I was reading. It’s rude to interrupt someone while they’re reading! Instead, I pulled the book closer my face, hopefully giving him the hint that I didn’t wanna be disturbed, and rolled my eyes. I peeked around the book and saw Near on the floor out of the corner of my eye, doing one of his puzzles. Why wasn’t Matt asking him if he wanted to play? He was sitting alone too. People never seemed to think it was weird when Near hung out by himself. Why was I any different? Why was I the weird one? ‘Aww, come on dude! Don’t be like that!’ Matt persisted. Dude? Dude? Did he seriously just call me dude? Urgh! ‘What’s his problem?’ he asked another girl. ‘Oh, Mello likes to keep to himself’ she said. ‘Yeah, but… why?’ Matt asked. Before waiting for an answer, he called over to me again. He’d been here for a while now. Surely he should’ve noticed by now that I didn’t like to play with the other kids. ‘Come on, don’t be such a drag! Come play with us!’ Apparently not. He sounded like he was getting annoyed. Why? Why was he so desperate for me to join him?       I gritted my teeth behind my book. Only last week I had gotten into a lot of trouble for throwing my book at Near’s puzzle when he made a belittling comment about the subject matter of my book. Oh, I’m sorry that you’ve been reading Charles freaking Dickens since you were four!       Anyway, I had successfully spoiled Near’s puzzle and one of the pieces had actually ended poking him in the eye. He didn’t cry or anything. In fact, he didn’t really seem too bothered, but he did need taking to the doctor. It’s not like I meant for that to happen! Roger had told me that I needed to learn to control my temper and that when I got angry, I should take a deep breath and try counting to ten, giving myself the chance to cool off. I tried this advice out. Sometimes it worked. But in this case, it really wasn’t doing it for me. ‘Wow… you’re rude’ Matt complained. His voice sounded closer. Was he coming over? Go away, go away, go away! Suddenly, my book was wrenched from my hands. Matt closed it to look at the front cover, losing the page I was on. I balled my fists in silent rage, trying to calm myself down. ‘To Kill A Mockingbird, huh?’ Yes, I know, everyone has read this book, but it was one of my favourites. ‘I’ve heard about this… what’s it about?’ Matt asked. I took a breath and answered through gritted teeth. ‘Why don’t you read it and find out for yourself?’ I hadn’t really meant to sound so snappy, but this guy was seriously grating on my nerves. ‘Nah’ he said, tossing it absently back to me – well, throwing certainly wasn’t his strong point, as it ended up on the floor next to me. ‘Not really into reading’ he shrugged. I glared up at him. What a moron. ‘Anyway’ he said, when I didn’t respond. ‘Why don’t you wanna come play?’ I decided to use his excuse, in the hopes that he might drop it and leave me alone. ‘Not really into gaming’ I said. It didn’t have the effect I desired. ‘What? No way! You’re kidding right? Everyone loves gaming!’ Urgh! Could this guy not take a hint? What was so hard to understand about me not wanting to play? ‘Well, I don’t, so… why don’t you just play with someone else’ ‘Jeez, I was just trying to be nice!’ he complained. ‘You’re always sitting by yourself, no one really seems to like you… I figured I’d just try and be friendly’ ‘Well, I happen to like being alone so…’ I made a ‘shoo’ gesture with my hand and leaned down to pick my book up. But he beat me to it. He grabbed the book and hid it behind his back. ‘Look, how about a quick game? And then I’ll let you have your book back’ ‘You’ll let me have it back? What, are you not gonna give it back unless I play your stupid Game Boy?’ ‘Hey! Don’t hate the Game Boy’ Matt snapped back. I noticed that we were gaining quite a bit of attention now. Even Near had stopped his puzzle to look up at us. ‘Then don’t hate the book’ I countered. ‘Give it back’ ‘No, I wanna play’ ‘Then play with someone else!’ If I gritted my teeth any harder, I would probably end up completely wearing them down. ‘Jeez, I’m trying to be nice! What is your problem?’ ‘You’re not being nice, you’re being pushy!’ I hissed. ‘I was reading and I want to continue reading. Why is that so hard to understand?’ Matt scoffed and laughed at me. If there was one thing I hated more than my stupid inferiority complex, it was people laughing at me. ‘Wow, no wonder you haven’t gone any friends’ Matt muttered. I don’t think he had meant for me to hear it, as he looked pretty surprised when I answered back. ‘At least I know no one’s just using me for my stupid toys’ I snapped. He looked at me with the dirtiest look anyone had ever given me. Was he really getting that upset about the fact that I had insulted his games? What a loser! ‘Hey, they’re not using me. They’re my friends!’ ‘Yeah, right’ I snickered. ‘Just give me my book back and go and play with your friends then’ Matt glowered at me. I certainly wasn’t getting my book back any time soon. ‘No’ he said, firmly. ‘What do you mean, no?’ I asked. ‘It’s my book!’ ‘I don’t care. I was trying to be nice to you and you’re just being rude’ he said. ‘So what? Why do you care? You don’t even know me! You’re the one being rude now!’ We had gathered quite an audience now. Most of the kids seemed to be watching our showdown. ‘You are such a weirdo!’ Matt snapped at me. ‘Most people would be happy that someone wanted to be their friend’ ‘Well, I’m not most people. And there are plenty of other people you could be friends with’ ‘I wanted to be your friend!’ That took me aback. Why would he wanna be friends with me? He didn’t know anything about me. ‘Why?’ I asked, unable to hide my genuine curiosity. ‘I dunno! I just saw you and thought you looked interesting’ Was that a compliment? Did someone just pay me a compliment? ‘But apparently you’re just a jerk who would rather sit by himself and be a lonely weirdo’ Matt finished. I frowned. I really didn’t care what this guy had to say to me. I just wanted my damn book back! ‘Ok, you’ve made your point, I’m a weirdo, congratulations, you cracked it! Now gimme my book back!’ Matt smirked at me and look at the book. ‘Oh you really want it?’ he asked. ‘Yeah, I really do!’ I snapped back. ‘Go get it then’ And no sooner than I had blinked, he launched the book out of the third story window.   I couldn’t hide the shock from my voice or face. Everyone around us gasped. ‘WHAT THE HELL?’ I screamed, jumping to look out the window. There was my book, on the ground in a filthy puddle. Several pages had torn out on the way down. It was a very old, fragile book. Matt came to look out the window too. ‘Woops… I didn’t think it would rip’ he muttered to himself. I turned to him, face like thunder, almost growling. Matt looked at me, awkwardly, an apologetic expression on his face. ‘Sorry Mello… I was just having a bit of fun…’ ‘YOU JERK!’ I screamed, throwing myself at him, knocking him back onto the hard wooden floor. ‘What the hell are you doing?’ Matt shouted, underneath me, as I started hitting him as hard as I could. ‘You are such a jerk!’ I shouted, continuing to hit him. He held his hands up to shield himself, but he realised pretty quickly that I wasn’t going to be the first one to stop. Before I could hit him again, he threw his fist upwards, knocking me in the jaw, sending me backwards across the room. I stood up and glared at him, and he did the same. ‘Why couldn’t you have just left me alone?’ I screamed, before launching my own fist into his face. I was pretty sure the crack that I heard was from my own knuckles, rather than doing him any damage, but I didn’t let it show. Matt didn’t seem too phased by my punch. Instead, he went for a dirtier tactic and drew his leg back before kicking me hard in the crotch. I heard a few gasps as I doubled over in agony. Oh, he was going to pay for that one! ‘Just give up, Mello’ Matt said, standing above me. ‘I’m a lot stronger than you’ OH HELL NO. I was not going to be beaten by this guy. I flung my leg out, tripping him over. There was a very satisfying bang as his backside hit the floor. Ignoring my own pain, I turned myself over and smashed my first into his crotch. ‘AHH!’ he screamed out. ‘Serves you right!’ I spat, before I hit him again, this time in the chest.       Soon, we were in a full scale fight. There was even scratching and hair pulling involved. It wasn’t my most dignified moment. If Roger hadn’t heard the commotion, who knows how long we would have kept fighting. ‘What’s going on here?’ I heard his voice as he came into the room, but it didn’t stop me. ‘Mello! Matt! Stop this at once!’ Roger bellowed.       Roger rarely raised his voice. He was a generally mild-tempered man. Even when he had to discipline someone, he did it in a calm, gentle way. He sounded very angry. As such, I stopped hitting Matt. But I guess Matt didn’t know Roger like I did, so he didn’t realise just how angry he was. He took advantage of the situation and propelled both his feet into my chest, knocking me backwards. ‘OOF’ It felt as though all of the air had been punched out of my body. Matt was on top of me again in seconds, but as he drew his fist back to hit me, he was dragged out of my vision. ‘OW! Get off!’ I heard him shout. I attempted to sit up, and saw that Roger had grabbed Matt’s ear. I didn’t think that kind of thing really happened in real life. I was about to laugh, when Roger came at me and very sharply pinched my ear. ‘Ow!’ I cried, involuntarily. ‘You two are coming with me. The rest of you, get on with something productive! I can’t believe none of you came to tell me about this!’ Everyone instinctively hung their heads in shame. Roger was rarely this angry and disappointed in people. But he was disappointed in us. And boy, were we in trouble.