[Saw] Amanda Young, Age 5 - Raspberries and Copper (Chapter 1)
Title: Raspberries and Copper
Author: Midnight
Fandom: Saw
Character: Amanda Young
Character’s Age: 5
Word Count: 1,017
Rating: PG
Warnings: Some swearing, but that's it.
Summary: Amanda wants to be a superhero.
Author's Notes: I own nothing, really. Everything belongs to LGF and Twisted Pictures.
Chapter One: Age 5, 1972
When Amanda was a five, she decided she wanted to be a superhero when she grew up.
A part of her knew that superheroes weren't real, that they were only pictures on small pages of comic books, that in Real Life there were no masked men who fly around fighting crime. But a part of her still wanted to believe in them, wanted to believe that maybe if you tried hard enough, you could be a superhero someday. Of course, her parents didn't understand this; her father scoffed and took another sip of his drink, while her mother smiled kindly and patted her on the head in a condescending manner.
Her parents were gone most of the time, so Amanda spent her days in her bedroom, sprawled out on her bed reading one thing or another. Comic books were her favorite, but she liked to read other things too. But her mom only took her to library once and a while and it was too far for her to walk to on her own, as it was all the way on the other side of town. But luckily, the comic book shop was right down the street, so whenever she could scrounge up some money, she went down and spent it there. Her parents didn't mind her going by herself. They wouldn't take her anyway, even if she asked.
She didn't have any friends. Most of the kids in the neighborhood were either too old or too mean to play with. There were two kids, a girl and a boy, who she went to kindergarten with, but they both lived far away. Amanda wished they lived closer, because sometimes she got very lonely all by herself. There wasn't much for her to do, either. They had a television set in the family room, but it was pretty old, and didn't always work. Sometimes she watched cartoons on it, but that was only on Saturdays, and if her parents were out.
There was a park across the street, and in the summer, she'd go swimming in the pool that all the other neighborhood kids went to. She liked that. Her mom took her sometimes, which Amanda liked. She liked it when she went places with her mother. She never went anywhere with her father though. He was always at work or out somewhere else. Her mother told her that he usually spent his weekends at the bar, drowning himself in alcohol, but Amanda didn't know what that meant. It must not have been a good thing, though, because her mother frowned when she said it, and she'd looked angry.
It was better, though, to just stay upstairs. She knew enough to stay out of her parent's way when they did come home. Her father scared her more so than her mother did, but she wouldn't want to cross paths with either of them when they were on a mean streak. She didn't really understand how they got so mean, but she suspected that it had something to do with the bottles in the cupboard above the stove. Her father was always taking a bottle down from there; usually it was empty by the next morning. It wasn't always the same with her mother, but it happened often enough for her to be wary.
That was why she was upstairs now, actually. Her parents were downstairs arguing, and she was crouched up at the top on the stairs, picking a scab on her knee, listening to the shouting match taking place. She didn't like to listen, but sometimes it was easier than just trying to ignore it. Amanda didn't know what they were arguing about, but her mother was swearing - a lot - which never meant anything good.
It was times like this when she wished that superheroes were real. If she just closed her eyes and wished really hard, they'd just fly in and rescue her. And they'd make her mother and father stop yelling. She thinks that they would make her mom and dad apologize to each other and make them love each other again. And then her parents could take her to the movies and out to dinner and always be happy and love her. Yeah, that would be okay.
"Shut the fuck up," her mother yells from the kitchen, and it's followed by the sound of breaking glass.
Amanda puts her hands over her ears, muffling the sounds of yelling.
"Pleaseohplease," she mumbles, hoping that maybe a someone - maybe a superhero - will hear her and come save her. But the only response is the sound of the front door slamming, as her father leaves, telling her mother to 'go to hell.'
Later, she creeps downstairs, careful to avoid the second to last step at the bottom, which creaks when you step on it. Her mother is sprawled on the couch in the family room watching television, a half-empty bottle of clear-colored liquid held loosely in her hand. Amanda approaches her cautiously.
"Hey Mandy," her mother slurs, giving her a half-hearted smile. "Why aren't you asleep?"
"I couldn't sleep, Mommy," she tells her, watching the way the light of the television flicks against the walls. "You and Daddy were yelling."
"Yeah, well," her mother holds out her arms. "C'mere. You can watch some TV with me."
Amanda nods and climbs onto the couch with her mother, who tousles her dark brown hair lightly. Amanda doesn't mind her mother so much when she's like this. Her father's never like this though; he never smiles at her or invites her to watch television with her when she can't sleep. He just yells. Sometimes he hits her mom too, which makes both her and her mother cry.
But her dad isn't here now. It's just Amanda and her mother, watching the Channel 3 news on their worn, black and white television. Amanda sighs and curls up against her mother. She thinks that she and her mother need each other, that they need to protect each other.
But right now, it feels okay. It almost feels safe.
Author: Midnight
Fandom: Saw
Character: Amanda Young
Character’s Age: 5
Word Count: 1,017
Rating: PG
Warnings: Some swearing, but that's it.
Summary: Amanda wants to be a superhero.
Author's Notes: I own nothing, really. Everything belongs to LGF and Twisted Pictures.
Chapter One: Age 5, 1972
When Amanda was a five, she decided she wanted to be a superhero when she grew up.
A part of her knew that superheroes weren't real, that they were only pictures on small pages of comic books, that in Real Life there were no masked men who fly around fighting crime. But a part of her still wanted to believe in them, wanted to believe that maybe if you tried hard enough, you could be a superhero someday. Of course, her parents didn't understand this; her father scoffed and took another sip of his drink, while her mother smiled kindly and patted her on the head in a condescending manner.
Her parents were gone most of the time, so Amanda spent her days in her bedroom, sprawled out on her bed reading one thing or another. Comic books were her favorite, but she liked to read other things too. But her mom only took her to library once and a while and it was too far for her to walk to on her own, as it was all the way on the other side of town. But luckily, the comic book shop was right down the street, so whenever she could scrounge up some money, she went down and spent it there. Her parents didn't mind her going by herself. They wouldn't take her anyway, even if she asked.
She didn't have any friends. Most of the kids in the neighborhood were either too old or too mean to play with. There were two kids, a girl and a boy, who she went to kindergarten with, but they both lived far away. Amanda wished they lived closer, because sometimes she got very lonely all by herself. There wasn't much for her to do, either. They had a television set in the family room, but it was pretty old, and didn't always work. Sometimes she watched cartoons on it, but that was only on Saturdays, and if her parents were out.
There was a park across the street, and in the summer, she'd go swimming in the pool that all the other neighborhood kids went to. She liked that. Her mom took her sometimes, which Amanda liked. She liked it when she went places with her mother. She never went anywhere with her father though. He was always at work or out somewhere else. Her mother told her that he usually spent his weekends at the bar, drowning himself in alcohol, but Amanda didn't know what that meant. It must not have been a good thing, though, because her mother frowned when she said it, and she'd looked angry.
It was better, though, to just stay upstairs. She knew enough to stay out of her parent's way when they did come home. Her father scared her more so than her mother did, but she wouldn't want to cross paths with either of them when they were on a mean streak. She didn't really understand how they got so mean, but she suspected that it had something to do with the bottles in the cupboard above the stove. Her father was always taking a bottle down from there; usually it was empty by the next morning. It wasn't always the same with her mother, but it happened often enough for her to be wary.
That was why she was upstairs now, actually. Her parents were downstairs arguing, and she was crouched up at the top on the stairs, picking a scab on her knee, listening to the shouting match taking place. She didn't like to listen, but sometimes it was easier than just trying to ignore it. Amanda didn't know what they were arguing about, but her mother was swearing - a lot - which never meant anything good.
It was times like this when she wished that superheroes were real. If she just closed her eyes and wished really hard, they'd just fly in and rescue her. And they'd make her mother and father stop yelling. She thinks that they would make her mom and dad apologize to each other and make them love each other again. And then her parents could take her to the movies and out to dinner and always be happy and love her. Yeah, that would be okay.
"Shut the fuck up," her mother yells from the kitchen, and it's followed by the sound of breaking glass.
Amanda puts her hands over her ears, muffling the sounds of yelling.
"Pleaseohplease," she mumbles, hoping that maybe a someone - maybe a superhero - will hear her and come save her. But the only response is the sound of the front door slamming, as her father leaves, telling her mother to 'go to hell.'
Later, she creeps downstairs, careful to avoid the second to last step at the bottom, which creaks when you step on it. Her mother is sprawled on the couch in the family room watching television, a half-empty bottle of clear-colored liquid held loosely in her hand. Amanda approaches her cautiously.
"Hey Mandy," her mother slurs, giving her a half-hearted smile. "Why aren't you asleep?"
"I couldn't sleep, Mommy," she tells her, watching the way the light of the television flicks against the walls. "You and Daddy were yelling."
"Yeah, well," her mother holds out her arms. "C'mere. You can watch some TV with me."
Amanda nods and climbs onto the couch with her mother, who tousles her dark brown hair lightly. Amanda doesn't mind her mother so much when she's like this. Her father's never like this though; he never smiles at her or invites her to watch television with her when she can't sleep. He just yells. Sometimes he hits her mom too, which makes both her and her mother cry.
But her dad isn't here now. It's just Amanda and her mother, watching the Channel 3 news on their worn, black and white television. Amanda sighs and curls up against her mother. She thinks that she and her mother need each other, that they need to protect each other.
But right now, it feels okay. It almost feels safe.