Drew Peterson was an average looking man.
In every sense of the word, actually, Drew was average. He was handsome, but he wasn't model handsome. Just a nice face, nice build, nice hair, nice eyes. Great dazzling smile. He rode bikes to stay in shape, he played ball on the weekends with some friends to socialize with, and he wasn't bad with the ladies. Coming back from the bathroom that morning, brushing his teeth, standing there shirtless as his latest conquest rolled over onto her stomach and looked away from him, he sighed. "Don't be like that," he said, "I have an interview today. I can drop you off if you need." She didn't respond. She just silently shook her head, scared to leave the bed. Drew shrugged and finished getting ready. He'd used to work in a good field, as a manager of a grocery chain in another city, but after some troubles, he decided he should start fresh, so he came here and decided instead to put his focus on something else he enjoyed; sports. He'd always wanted to be a professional ball player, but when that didn't pan out, he instead turned his eye to managing, and, along with playing with his friends, he was pretty good at it. He did, in fact, have an interview that morning. At a local school, to become an assistant coach to their baseball team. And, without doing more research into him, John Reynolds hired him almost on the spot. A mistake he'd come to regret immensely in just a few short weeks. *** "Drew, they don't want to push charges," his boss said, "they don't wanna go through anything more than they've already gone through. But they are requesting, instead, for you to give resignation. They obviously can't force you to leave the area, but...you probably should. It's probably for the best." Drew sighed and shook his head, his hands running through his hair. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, "I don't know what's wrong with me. I hate this. I hate doing this. I wanna stop but I can't." "That's addiction, Drew, you need help," his boss said, "and I sincerely hope you get it." After he was dismissed, Drew sat in his car in the parking lot of a nearby fast food place. He didn't even order, he just needed somewhere to be, somewhere he could unwind. He really didn't want to be like this. But he couldn't stop himself. He craved it so so much. He sighed and looked at himself in the rearview mirror, then looked away, unable to look himself in the eye. Maybe his boss was right, maybe he should try to get help...and he should definitely leave the area. The last thing he wanted to do was rouse suspicion by sticking around. He'd never been arrested yet for it, and he had no intent on doing so. *** Standing on the field, watching the kids play, Drew looked to his side to see Misty, the bat girl, and Hawley sitting on the bench. He furrowed his brow, then shrugged and looked back at the field. Reynolds approached and patted Drew on the back as he took a bite from a large sandwich from his other hand. "You feel like you're gettin' your bearings yet, champ?" Reynolds asked, and Drew smirked, nodding. "Yeah, John, I think I'm fine," he said, "thanks for asking. Hey, I know she's a bat girl, but why's the blonde not playing?" "Cause I don't make her," Reynolds said, shrugging, "she can if she wants, but I don't force her to. We got a special thing." Drew's eyes widened. "...how so?" he asked. "Well, her father was an abusive piece of shit and her mother bailed, so she lives with me and my daughter now. She's basically my second kid. Just trying to give her a safe place to be herself, feel comfortable, you know? That kind of thing," Reynolds said, "as someone who grew up in a shaky household, I know what it's like to not have that space available to you, but at least I had my sister. Hawley doesn't have any siblings. Or, didn't. She's got my daughter now." Drew's heart dropped. He'd thought he'd maybe found someone who would understand him, but alas. "Well that's very noble of you," Drew said. "Don't boost his ego," Gorey said, grabbing John's sandwich and taking a large bite, adding while chewing, "it's not noble, he just wants people to like him." "Don't listen to her, she doesn't even work here, she actually escaped from a nearby hospital," Reynolds said, grabbing for his sandwich, yelling, "give it! I spent fifteen minutes in line for that! You're gonna eat the best part!" Drew chuckled at this display and smiled, nodding to himself. Maybe, he thought, just maybe he could be normal here. Maybe he could be alright. Maybe he could get himself together and not screw up and give into his urges again. He could see himself becoming friends with these people, and training these kids to be a good team. He looked back from John and Janice out towards the field, hands on his hips, tapping his cleat. Yes, just maybe, for once, normalcy was within grasp. *** Drew had heard the gamut of why he might have the problems he had. Not from professionals, or anyone like that, but just from his own research into the subject. He'd looked up articles online, read magazine pieces, heard radio talk shows with experts on the issue, and yet he never really agreed with most of the findings that he came across. Regardless, he stopped seeking them out after a while, and just tried his best to ignore the cravings, but he found that even harder than anything else, especially on his own. For a while he lurked on message boards and other such places online, searching for people like him, but whenever he found them, he found they didn't really connect in the same he'd hoped they would. They were a lot more...crass about what they were dealing with, and what they were doing. Drew felt shame, not pride. He so badly wanted to be better, but the craving was just too great. For a brief period of time, he'd met a man online who did feel the same way he did in regards to their specific problem, but after about half a year of communicating, the man eventually took his own life out of guilt for his actions, and ever since then Drew wondered if this was the only outcome. Was the only future possible suicide or prison? Fuck it. If he couldn't be normal, than maybe he should stop trying. It was obviously never going to be better. He accepted this, albeit reluctantly, and gave in. He didn't act on anything, he didn't approach anyone, at least until he started looking for work again, right before being hired by Reynolds. That girl in his bed the morning of his interview...she was the first one he'd been with again since the issue at his previous job, and this time...this time he didn't feel shame. This time he just accepted that, in the moment, it was nice to him, and he reveled in it. Drew was tired of feeling sick. He knew he was sick, but he was tired of feeling sick. So instead, he figured, he'd just feel fine about it instead. If all the others could be pleased with themselves, then why fight it himself? So he met this girl, he slept with her, and he didn't feel bad about it at all. Even if she was a freshman in high school. *** "How many sandwiches did you buy?" Janice asked, watching Reynolds unwrap another one at the table in the cafeteria, almost in awe. Reynolds smirked and, taking a knife, cut the sandwich in half, handing her half this time, which she graciously took. "Look," Reynolds said as he watched Janice sink her teeth into it, "a man knows his appetite. I knew I'd be extra hungry today, and I refuse to let the hunger win. Instead, I'll give into the hunger. Feed the hunger. Keep the hunger content." "You make it sound like a parasitic alien," Janice said, chewing. "Who says it isn't?" Reynolds asked, raising an eyebrow, the both of them laughing as Drew sat down at the table with them. He had a paper bag with a pasta dish - leftovers he had from dinner the previous night - and pulled the container with the pasta out from the bag, popping the lid and digging in with a plastic fork. "So," Reynolds said, glancing across the table at Drew, "how do you think you're doing so far?" "Well, to be honest," Drew said, shifting nervously as he ate, "I'm not sure. I've never worked with kids before really, and while I've always liked sports I never worked in that sort of field before either, so this is all kinda new to me and frankly I'm feeling a little overwhelmed." "That's fair," Reynolds said nodding, taking another bite and, after finished chewing, continued saying, "but the thing to remember is that you've got virtually no real responsibilities. I basically need you around for the times I'm not, and to occasionally help with extra duties I might not be able to do. The sheer fact they allowed me to even hire an assistant coach makes it feel like Victoria believes in me." "It's gross isn't it? Being trusted," Janice said, and Reynolds nodded. "It sickens me, quite frankly. I'm insulted," Reynolds replied, the both of them laughing, which made Drew chuckle too. He didn't really understand the situation at this school, and especially didn't understand the relationship this team had with one another, but he could tell it was a rather easy going relationship overall and that put him more at ease. After a moment of adding some cheese packets to his sandwich and taking another bite, Reynolds sighed and added, "you know what the worst part is is that I can't help but shake the feeling like they wanted me to pick my own replacement." "At least you'll be replaced," Gorey said, scoffing, "when janitors get retired, they just take us to a field somewhere upstate." "Well," Reynolds said, laughing, "if I did have to pick my replacement, at least it seems I picked someone who seems like a pretty decent one!" Drew smiled, but averted his eyes. He knew they were joking, yet a part of him couldn't help but feel the kernal of truth that sat inside the joke of being trusted. It did disgust him, knowing people trusted him, especially around young girls. He certainly didn't trust himself, and that scared him more than anything else. Drew glanced across the cafeteria and noticed the bat girl, Misty, talking with Hawley and Tyler, the three of them laughing. He felt a rock fall into his gut, and shook his head. He focused on his pasta for the remainder of lunch. *** That evening at home, Hawley and Clarissa sitting on the couch together painting their nails and watching TV, Reynolds was in the kitchen making lunches for the next day, his mind wandering back to Drew. He seemed like a nice enough guy, but something about the guy irked him, and he hated that he couldn't place his finger on exactly what that thing was. He shut the fridge door and approached the living room, hands on his hips, looking at the girls, who glanced up at him, muting the TV once it hit a commercial. "Yeah?" Clarissa asked. "Hawley, what do you think about the asisstant coach?" Reynolds asked. "You hired an assistant coach?" Clarissa asked. "Yeah, this guy named Drew Peterson," Reynolds said, seating himself on the arm of the couch, hands now posted on his knees, "what do you think of him, Ellie?" "I don't know," Hawley said, shrugging, "he seems alright, but I didn't really interact with him much. He was kind of quiet and kept to himself, but that could just be because he's in a new situation, and he's nervous. But whatever, none of my business. If you hired him he must've been qualified." "What gave you the impression I was hiring people based on their qualifications?" Reynolds asked, making the girls laugh as he added, "honestly, what is with everyone having faith in my skills lately? No, really, I hired him cause there weren't many applicants and he seemed like the most normal of the bunch." "Thank god a serial killer didn't show up, or you might've had to hire them instead," Clarissa said. "Yeah," Hawley chimed in, "I didn't know the real qualification was just showing up." "Alright, I don't need this sass," Reynolds said, standing back up, the girls laughing as he re-entered the kitchen, smiling to himself as he did. He loved being home with the girls. He loved...just...having a home, and a family of sorts again. It reminded him of his old life, but in a better way. Reynolds continued making lunches for the following day, listening to the girls talk as he did, knowing they didn't realize he could hear them. Listening to the girls chatter, he felt so comfortable. A family was, really, all he'd ever wanted, and he'd been lucky to somehow attain it twice. Reynolds pulled open the fridge, looked inside, the shut it hard and looked back towards the living room. "Where's the peanut butter?" he asked. "We're eating it on crackers!" Clarissa shouted back. "You're gonna spoil your dinner!" "This IS our dinner!" Hawley shouted back, the three of them laughing. *** Misty found herself in the equipment shed, still putting things away. Practice had ended two hours ago, but she had band practice after school, so she hadn't had time to put things away until just now. Gorey had stayed behind to help a little, but she had a doctors appointment and had left about fifteen minutes ago, leaving Misty all by her lonesome. As she set the net bag full of bats down on the floor and wiped her brow, she couldn't help but feel good about being part of the team. Sure, she wasn't an athlete, but it was nice to be included in something, regardless of her level of participation. The door to the equipment shed opened, and Misty turned to see Drew coming in. "Oh," she said, "I didn't know you were still here." "I didn't know anyone else was here either, I was coming by to lock up when I noticed it was ajar," he replied, chuckling nervously, "so...you're not, like on the team right?" "If you wanna get into semantics," Misty said, shrugging, picking up another netted bag, this one with baseball gloves, and tossing it into a pile in the corner; she wiped her hands on her pants and shrugged, "but I don't mind! I'm not super into athleticism anyway. I like doing this." Drew nodded, listening, as he quietly locked the equipment shed door behind him. Misty, with her back turned towards him, still putting things away, never even heard him come up behind her. When she felt his hands on her hips, she tensed up, terrified, but unable to speak. And when his hands found other places, she stayed quiet, because she didn't know what else to do. Drew had tried, he really had. He had had guilt and shame, he had wanted to get better, but he didn't know how, and this craving was too strong. So fuck it, then, he thought. He was going to have a good time with it, and that was all there was now. And Misty, unfortunately, just happened to be an easy enough target. After it was finished, after he'd left the equipment shed, promising her not to speak a word of this to anyone, Misty herself finally left. The first thing she did when she got home, understandably, was take a shower. A very, very long shower. The kind of shower one loses themselves in. She could still feel his fingerprints on him, and she hated it. And while lying in bed that night, trying to think of anything else, all she could think of was Drew, and, of course, Reynolds. He'd hired him. He'd hired him not knowing what kind of person he was. What a vile monster he could be. She wanted to be mad at Reynolds, but there was no way he could've known. Had he known he certainly wouldn't have hired him. She trusted Reynolds judgement enough to know that he did really care about the safety of his kids. And yet she couldn't help but be mad at him. Mad at Drew, mad at John, but certainly not at herself. Oh no, that was the one allowance she gave herself. No shame, no guilt, no anger, not towards herself. People blamed girls for things that happened to them enough as it was, and she refused to buy into that mindset. So sure Misty wasn't athletic, and she didn't play on the team, but there was one thing being involved with sports had taught her, and that was to never admit defeat. To always rail against your competitor. To not be a sore loser. Because she wasn't a sore loser. She wasn't a loser at all. Drew was the loser. She was the strong one, for living through it. Now she just had to find a way to live with it the next day. And the next day. And the next day. And every single day after that for the rest of her life. But that's what being a sportsman is all about, right? Refusal to quit. And she refused to quit. So she didn't give up and she didn't hate herself, but she did let herself cry herself to sleep that night. And it felt good to do so. A sort of odd reassurance that she could, in fact, still feel something other than rage. She had to give herself some leeway. She was just a teenage girl, after all.
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GRAVE INNINGS is about A funeral home that has sponsored a local little league, the coach who is a disgraced reality show host, a young transgirl and the odd family they create for one another. Archives
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