(<span style="color: #FF0000">Me</span>and of course<span style="color: #00FF00">Crazywicked</span>)<br/><br/><span style="color: #FF0000">The soft ticking of the grandfather clock seems to fill not only the room but the entirety of the house, echoing along the filled halls and rooms. Built and solid, he leans in the doorway leading to the plush and still somewhat barren living room, able to hear his mother in the bathroom attempting to stifle the sounds of her wretching tears. He's only there to comfort her for as long as he needs to, he only came to the funeral and to take care of his mother out of a sense of duty. He felt no remorse or sorrow over the man's death, nor did he feel any pity or empathy for his mother's plight. His father might have been a great general at one point in his life, but he was a brutal and uncaring failure as a father, and his mother had all but been nonexistent through his life as it was. This was only another portion of his life to be sucked up by his parents and their needs and priorities, and eventually he would be free of it all, though he would still be tied down by his duties on base, but at least those were obligations he had willingly signed up for.<br/><br/>Nothing else had really changed for him, at least not for being back in the house. Other than the absence of his father's barking and gruff tone that always meant an insult or degrading comment was coming his way, followed by an order and another insult, everything was still the same. Everything of his father's was still in it's place, the same as the day he was alive and the day he had collapsed in the kitchen making a sandwich, never to open his eyes again. His chair was still in it's same place, no one allowed to sit in it even though he himself was rarely found in it. His office still neat as he always kept it, organized as he wanted it, desk still having the pile of papers, and the locked full closet still filled with his oh so cherished guns and ammo collection. He had always thought his father a paranoid freak, as if an invading country would suddenly rain down on them at any point, what was he expecting, a Canadian raid?<br/><br/>His mother was still the silent presence as ever, weak willed and unable to cope with the slightest thing on her own, even as she tried to hide it from her only son. A man who couldn't give a rat's ass about her or her late husband. She had stayed silent in the shadows as her only child was raised by a dictatorial father who kept him in a constant state of alertness bordering on fear and paranoia. Personal relationships were something to be kept around long enough to get what you wanted, people other than your squad mates couldn't be trusted and were unimportant for the most part. Dating was out of the question as far as his father's law was concerned, not that he had had any desire to do so. He was far from being a virgin, having had more than enough of his own fun with both women and men, something he had little scruples about. The bit of pleasure in that regard was purely for him and that's all that mattered. Each sex had their own appeal and their own set of selfish fun for him, even if his parents would have freaked to know about at least half of his sexual escapades if not more.<br/><br/>He was suffering from the urge to just up and leave the house, walk out of the front door while his mother struggled for control in the bathroom and never look back. It was a restlessness that he was used to, something he had had since he was a child. Even with all of his father's brutal lessons and combined with the Marine training, he was never able to rid himself completely of it. Perhaps a life of duty and responsibility being drilled into his mind had made the small, if not powerfully rebellious part of his mind start to grow and give it a voice. He always let it jabber away at the back of his head, choosing his life over that of one of freedom and free will, something that never quite bothered him, or at least not on a conscious level it didn't. Still a part of him ached to be free and it often times mixed with the urge for something outside of his control to free him, to give him a reason to give his responsibility and duty the finger and do as he pleased.<br/><br/>Still, that was asking for a bit too much wasn't it?</span>