Shieldless
Accusations: Consecutive Substack Story 1050
Screaming, shouting, tears, accusations of drug use, more tears, and even threats.
Brett Royler was ashamed when, with the help of his wife, he discovered the origin of the dispute was his stepdaughter’s simple wish to have quiet and privacy when she drew.
There was a backyard barbecue and bourbon, a few shots of Malort, some conversation that suggested kids weren’t as clean and forthcoming as they led parents to believe, then Brett was ashamed while in an act, the act of breaking into his stepdaughter’s room.
He’d not have his house under drug forfeiture, he’d not take any chances but still filth clung to him, whispered harshly, this is wrong, Brett, this is wrong.
He found the drawing tablets hidden under piles of clean clothing, obviously hidden, on purpose Brett.Â
Then he wanted to find something to justify his actions, he wanted to see pornography or drugs and then the room was ransacked, all the time Brett lying to himself that he would put everything back the way it was and she’d never know, and in one glance he knew he never could, he’d forgotten where the lamp went, and that box of hair products, and goddammit, something must be in here.
He picked up the top drawing tablet again. Sheets of acid, maybe? I loved LSD as a young man…
There were no serrations. Just drawing after pro-quality drawing of Captain America.
I didn’t know Lisette even liked comics…
Brett skimmed through,hoping that a sheet of acid would fall out, something, anything that would make him not a prowler in his own home.
The thickly muscled hero, walking, but…stooping.
Brett flipped.Â
One of the pages ripped.
He was fucked now, there would be screams and apologies that would die before they reached ears, and in panic he flipped more.Â
These weren’t simple drawings.
It was a real flipbook, animating the character, who got progressively thinner and more stooped until the last page, the hero was kneeling, weeping, and looked utterly exhausted.
***
As someone who should have paid more attention to what my step daughter was doing in her room. this one is hard to react to objectively. The child is entitled to her privacy and to maker her own way, but as a (proxy) parent you want to ensure that they are swimming between the flags.
FWIW, my step daughter is now lost to the World, spiralling into a vortex of drug abuse, poor mental health, self harm, anxiety and depression. Once a talented artist, she now administers ugly tattoos to herself and recasts her adolescence as if it was a living hell.
It was for me and her mother, and I wish that all she was doing was creating melancholy flip books on the demise of comic book heroes. I'm not Brett, and I hope Lisette uses her talent well...
Brilliant.