Title: Angels in a Cage: Chapter Twelve, Words, Just Words
Rating: R [language, alcohol use]

Summary: Alyssa is growing up, that's what sixth grade is about. Chris is... angsty.





The day had come. The album was finished. For the most part he was satisfied with it. The band had completely jelled, things were going well. Then why was he so fucking upset, so depressed?

Staring into a glass of beer, hidden in the dark recesses of a bar, Chris sighed. Pearl Jam was lingering about as was most of the members of Mudhoney. Some chick band was on stage, one he didn’t really know or care for. They were just the background soundtrack to the unhappy buzz in his head. Why the fuck was he so depressed?

“What the fuck is your problem?” Eddie declared, slipping onto the stool next to him,

“Fuck if I know,” he muttered, lifting his glass to his lips.”

“Wife?”

Chris shrugged.

“Band?”

He shrugged again.

“Job?”

Another shrug was accompanied by another drink.

“Chris, man, go home,” Eddie instructed.

“Why?”

“Because I’m tired of looking at your ugly mug,” he declared.

“Thanks, ass,” he turned his attention back to the beer. “Who’s the horrible bitch on stage?”

“Well one’s my girlfriend.”

“Oh. Didn’t know.”

“Probably because you haven’t looked up at the stage.”

“Yeahhhh,” he drained the rest of his beer glass. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Are you happy?”

Eddie scoffed, “How do you define happy?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then I can’t answer it.”

He sighed, motioning to a nearby waitress, “I’m fucking miserable.”

“Go home to your wife.”

“My wife isn’t home. She’s out with some band or something.”

“Alice?”

“Don’t think so. Don’t know. We don’t talk work at home.”

“Chris, you’re my best friend. You gotta do something for yourself,” Eddie proclaimed.

“I am. I ordered another beer.”

Two hours later Chris stumbled out of the bar. He shook off all offers of help but didn’t bother to head to his beat up car. He might have been drunk off his ass but he wasn’t stupid. So he pushed away his friends and weaved down the sidewalk. While he didn’t far from the bar, walking drunkenly down the street was far from a good idea, especially since he was walking the opposite direction. If anyone noticed, they didn’t stop Chris.

Drunkenly aware of his location a block away he swore and turned around. The action made him waver on his feet, falling to the hard concrete. Swearing he attempted to get back up. Finding it impossible to stand with the ground acting as an angry ocean, Chris crawled off the concrete, into the weeds of an abandoned house’s yard.

“Oh fuck,” he groaned, covering his eyes with his arm, trying to block out the pain of the street light.

Laying there for a long moment, he tried to focus on breathing. Only it was completely useless. His intoxicated mind wanted to think of other things. Images of Andy’s happy face flashed in his thoughts, once more conjuring up pangs of guilt from not stepping in to help his friend. It quickly shifted to images of Susan’s glassy eyes – during sex. In that moment in time, Chris was drunkenly convinced that she was faking orgasms now. Not even married a year and he felt like he was being pulled apart.

Growling he wrenched his wedding ring off and threw it into the darkness. He hated his life. He only hoped that no one would find him passed out in the weeds. Then maybe the weeds could overtake him as well.

“Fuck, Chris,” a voice muttered, hands attempting to pull him up.

“Uhhhhh.”

“Come on, man. Let’s get you home.”

Forcing his eyes open, he shielded his gaze as he peered up at his unwelcome hero, “Just... let... me ... die... Eddie.”

“Nope,” he looped Chris’ arm around his neck. “Not gonna lose you. Not gonna lose you.”



Setting down the doll, Alyssa told Judith she would be right back. The sixth grader left their playroom and entered their large shared bathroom. As she stood up a moment later and turned to flush the toilet, she froze. Her eyes widened as she gazed into the toilet. Having sex education classes, she presumed she knew what was wrong, but she wasn’t entirely certain. Flushing the toilet, she washed her hands and decided to seek out her mom, forgetting about her dolls.

Marilyn sat downstairs, enjoying some quiet time reading without the girls around, the radio playing softly nearby. Her eyes lifted from the page as Alyssa entered the room, a bit surprised to not find Judith with her. The young girl did not sit, but stopped a few feet away from her. Waiting for Alyssa to speak, she slid a bookmark into the book and looked directly at her.

When she didn’t speak, Marilyn addressed her, “Is there something you want to talk about, Aly?”

“Um,” her eyes remained focused on the floor.

“Is something wrong?”

“Um, I’m bleeding,” she muttered.

Marilyn looked over the young girl, “Where?”

“Um, between my legs.”

Realization dawned on Marilyn and she nodded. It came as no surprise that Alyssa had begun her menses, considering the fact a few months prior Marilyn had taken her bra shopping. In fact in preparation for such a day, she had already purchased the needed items for Alyssa.

“Congratulations,” Marilyn declared. “Why don’t we head up to my bathroom to take care of things? Then we’ll figure out how to celebrate.”

“Celebrate?” Alyssa’s eyes rose as Marilyn stood.

“Absolutely. Your body is maturing and you’re becoming a woman. That is certainly cause for celebration,” she held her hand out to the girl. “In fact I think you and I should dress up all fancy and go some place nice. Just the two of us women.”

“Really?”

She nodded, “We’ll call Daddy and tell him we’re going out so he can get home to stay with Judith.”

“You’re not going to... going to tell him what happened are you?”

“I will not. That’s your choice to make, Aly. But you should never be ashamed of your body. Ever.”

An hour later, Howard returned home from work. He embraced Alyssa, kissing her forehead, before heading to check on Judith. Though she hadn’t really told him exactly what happened, she was certain he knew from those actions alone. Part of her was embarrassed that he knew, but the greater part of her wasn’t. It was natural. Every girl went through it. It meant she could have babies now. Well maybe not now, but eventually. And there was something nice about being dressed in her best dress and going out with her mom. Maybe growing up wasn’t so bad.

Towards the end of their fancy meal as they waited for dessert, something very decadent that Marilyn had chosen without even consulting Alyssa, the older woman waited for the girl’s eyes to settle on her again. Without pause or any hint of embarrassment, Marilyn brought up the sex topic. At first Alyssa shifted uncomfortably in her chair, but there was something about the way Marilyn spoke that put her at ease.

“I know that you understand the mechanics of sex,” she spoke, “considering the fact I did sign off on the sex education class of yours. But there’s others things about sex than just how it’s done and what it does to consider.”

“Mom, I’m eleven. I really don’t think that—”

“I understand that you’re young, but your dad and I decided a long time ago that we would always be open with you in regards to sex and dating and all of that. And now that you’re a woman, your body is preparing for the option of childbearing,” Marilyn declared, pausing when the waitress set a rather large and gooey slice of cake between them, “I want you to know that the channels are open and if you ever have any questions at all, both your father and I are always available.”

Alyssa took a bite of the cake before looking up at Marilyn, “Um... well... uh... I haven’t really ever kissed a boy, Mom.”

Marilyn smiled crookedly, “I know, sweetie. But it’s important to know that I’m here for you.”

She smiled, “I know.”

“And just so that you’re also aware, tomorrow I’m going to schedule your first visit with my doctor. It’s time for you to go to a big girl’s doctor.”

Alyssa took another bite of the cake, “Do you think... do you think boys will like me more now?”

Marilyn tilted her head slightly, “What makes you think that they don’t already?”

“All they ever do is pull my hair or tease me about my boobs,” she touched her budding breasts, “since they’re bigger than most of the other girls’.”

“Boys your age don’t really know how to show that they like you so they tease you. Things will change soon, sweetie. I’m sure of it.”

Silently eating the cake for a minute, Alyssa sighed, “Becca was right.”

“Right about what?”

“Well this just proves that I’m a slut.”

“Excuse me? What does?”

“She says I’m a slut because of my boobs. And now that I’m bleeding that just means that—”

“Alyssa, I don’t know what’s wrong with Becca, nor why she has been such a bitch to you since third grade,” Marilyn muttered. “But she’s wrong. And you shouldn’t give her a moment’s care or notice. Because every time you get upset about something she says about you that you know is untrue, she feels like she has some power over you. Do not give her that, Aly. You are stronger, smarter, and definitely prettier than her. And anyone who knows you knows this. Don’t think about Becca at all.”

“I know but...” she sighed. “It’s just hard, Mom. She’s in my homeroom so I can’t ever get away from her. I’ve tried. I even asked my teacher to not assign me to groups with her. But she didn’t seem to listen. I don’t know if I can make it to the end of the year.”

“I’ll talk to your teacher and her parents. And if that doesn’t work, we’ll find another solution, Aly. Becca is a bully. Plain and simple.”

Alyssa nodded.

“Besides she’ll be going to Roosevelt and you’re going to Ballard,” she declared. “So if we can figure something out for the next couple of years, you soon won’t have to deal with her at all.”

“I guess.”

“We’ll figure something out, Aly. I promise,” Marilyn stated. “Now you finish off the cake. It’s your day.”



Though he understood the reasoning behind agreeing to tour with Guns N’ Roses, especially since apparently Axl Rose apparently loved his band, Chris was not happy with it. However after an intense fight with Susan where he relented to touring with Guns N’ Roses, she relented to warm up shows with his friends. The first show up in Seattle had been a blast. Pearl Jam opened, Alice in Chains warmed up the crowd, and Soundgarden blew them all away. Chris was hoping for a repeat performance in Oakland.

Only this time there was some fuck following them around with a video camera.

This meant that all three front men retreated to their shared dressing room, closed the door, and emptied as many beer bottles as they could. They didn’t give a shit about the media fuck. It was their party and they were going to enjoy it regardless. Four beers each later and a couple of hits of whatever Layne had with him, the trio left the dressing room. Chris belched loudly, inciting the other two to laugh. Some other band they didn’t really know was playing currently. The three of them didn’t care.

Layne pulled his dark sunglasses back on, Eddie stuck his hands in his pockets, and Chris pulled his hat back on. The three amigos headed back out into the fray, Chris leading the way through the crowd. He noticed the camera crew and the host of the evening’s party. Normally he would attempt to avoid such, but he was too buzzed to care. The other two guys were following him, so they too would be trapped in the media glare they hated.

The host-prick started talking to the camera, introducing the three men to whomever. Chris wasn’t entirely coherent enough to know what was going on and looped his arm around the man when he was called his friend. Layne said hello in his Mickey Mouse voice and Eddie barely muttered a thing at all.

“So guys, what’s it like having three Seattle bands in one night for one occasion? To benefit RIP magazine?” the host-fuck asked.

“It’s the best thing to ever happen to LA,” Layne replied.

“It’s like a gang. We’re like a big gang,” Eddie added.

“Yeah,” Chris agreed, making the microphone return to him, “I think all the outsiders better watch their step, you know. When this whole thing is over, you know, don’t take any back alleys home.”

“You know what I think is cool? You guys saved us a lot of money cuz you only needed one dressing room. And you all drink out of the same beer bottles. That’s really cool,” the TV shit declared.

“It is really cool,” he nodded slightly. “We’ll all, we’ll all urinate into the same container and leave it for you to clean up after the show. Yeah, I think it’s cool.”

“This is cost effective rock promotion at its finest, don’t you think?” he turned the microphone to Layne.

“Uh, sure, sure,” he muttered.

“So Alice in Chains is going up next. Which you guys aren’t going to – oh yeah, you’ll see it. We’ll get some footage,” the host glanced over at Eddie and Layne. “It’s gonna be festive, huh?”

Layne glanced at him while Eddie bowed, “Yeah, it’ll be fun.”

“Dude?” he looked at the Pearl Jam singer.

“I’m sorry.”

“Anyway, that’s it for Friends at Large. Next hour more rock stars attending the big RIP party. Thanks, guys. Go Seahawks,” the host proclaimed, shoving the microphone back in front of Layne.

“All right,” he muttered.

“GO BEARS!” Eddie interjected.

As soon as the cameras were off the three of them and the host prick let them be, the three men broke into laughter. They decided to actually live up to Chris’s threat of pissing in the same container. The three turned to head back to the dressing room to do just that, but were abruptly stopped by Susan stepping in their path. Her dark eyes flashed to Chris and his shoulders instantly slumped. Layne muttered something about needing to get to stage. Eddie claimed he would help out with that. Both abandoned Chris to his wife.

She crooked her finger to him, beckoning him into the dressing room. Shuffling his feet, he followed Susan in, hoping if anyone was in there, they would remain. Unfortunately for him, Susan instructed everyone to vacate the room, closing the door behind the various Pearl Jam and Soundgarden members. Hearing the door click was like hearing a bullet whiz through the air at him. He only hoped he has some special skills to dodge it.

“Urinate into the same container and leave it for you to clean up after the show? What the fuck, Christopher?” Susan whirled around to him.

“Babe, it’s not a big deal. We were just—”

“Are you drunk? Are you fucking high?” she demanded.

“I... uh... baby, the guys and I were just—”

He flinched when her hand came up, striking him across the face. For a long moment, Chris stared at his wife, the sting of her fingers still imprinted on his cheek. While he could believe that she had struck him, considering she had come close before, it was still a bit of a shock. Whatever chemically-induced buzz he had was completely gone. He was waiting for her to shriek and scream at him, ending her rant with another punctuated slap. Instead Susan stalked away and paced the small room a few times.

“Suze?”

“Shut up. Just shut up. I have to figure this out,” she responded.

“Babe, nothing is wrong. Really. It was just a brief little interview with a rock guy. He won’t think anything of it at all. It’s not big deal,” Chris stated.

“Not a big deal? Not a big deal? Are you a fucking moron? You just—”

“Dude, Layne just dove off the stage and they dropped him,” Eddie proclaimed, grinning.

Chris looked to Susan for permission to head out of the room. Glaring at him, she waved him off. He was pretty certain that this wasn’t over, but he would take any reprieve he could get.



The holiday season filled the air with the sound of jingling bells and the sweet scents of cookies, pies, and other festive bakings. Alyssa couldn’t be happier. There was little else that filled her heart with such joy like the Christmas holiday. Judith wasn’t too old to not believe in Santa Claus and giggled at the sight of anything remotely reflective of him. Oh and the presents could not be forgotten. Not the ones under the tree with her name inscribed; Alyssa was far more excited about the ones from her. She was ever certain she had the perfect gifts bought and wrapped. It was going to be a great holiday.

Skipping home from the bus, wishing the rain would turn to snow, Alyssa paused at the garland-wrapped mailbox. A bit surprised the mail hadn’t been picked up, she removed the pile of red, green, and white envelopes before heading up to the house. Shouting a hello as she entered, Alyssa flipped through the mail, not that she expected anything to be for her. Disbelief filled her upon finding a long white envelope hand-addressed to her. Slipping her backpack off her shoulders, she sat on a barstool in the kitchen, her fingers moving to break the seal of the envelope. Turning it over, her eyes searched for any mention of the sender. There was nothing. Festive red fingernails slid under the flap, tearing the envelope open.

“Hey, Aly,” Marilyn greeted as she entered the kitchen, Judith close behind. “How was your last day of school before Christmas?”

“All right,” she responded, pulling out a folded sheet of lined paper.

“What do you have there?” asked her stepmother as she opened the fridge.

“Don’t know. Came in the mail for me.”

Marilyn dropped the carton of eggs in her hands and quickly closed the space between, reaching for the paper as Alyssa unfolded it, “I don’t think—”

Alyssa moved the paper out of her reach, eying her stepmother warily, “It was addressed to me.”

“I’m sure it was a mistake.”

“Mom, what are you hiding from me?” her eyes focused on the panic in Marilyn’s eyes instead of her name scrawled at the top of the page.


“Nothing. Nothing at all,” she claimed.

“Bull. If you weren’t—”

“Daddy!” Judith exclaimed, interrupting the question.

“Hey there, sweet pea,” he scooped up the little girl. “How’s my girls?”

“I wrappeded presents today!” she proclaimed.

“Good girl. I’m sure they’re beautiful,” he kissed her before glancing at the eggs on the tile floor. “Mari, is something wrong?”

“Alyssa got the mail today. She has a letter in her hand,” she stated calmly.

Setting down the younger of his daughters, Howard approached his eldest, hand held out, “Why don’t you give that to me, Aly?”

“Why? What is so scary about this letter?” she quickly questioned.

“Howard, tell her.”

He sighed and nodded, “Aly, why don’t you come with me? And we’ll talk about this in my office.”

Eying her father for a moment, she nodded and slid off the stool, handing the letter over. With instructions to Judith to remain and help her mommy out, Howard lead Alyssa to his office. Without thought he sat behind his desk and quickly scanned the letter. As fully expected, it was from Emilie.

“Aly, I don’t need to really tell you what this letter is about, do I? It’s from... Emilie,” he stated.

Her eyes widened, “My... my mother?”

He nodded, folding it back up without reading it, “Do you really think you should read it now?”

Images of her mother’s insane anger flashed in her head. However the fact she had written had to be a good sign, right? Curiosity about the letter wouldn’t release her thoughts.

“Dad? Why don’t you want me to read it? Maybe she’s gotten better,” Alyssa suggested.

Howard frowned slightly, “Baby girl, Emilie has been sending letters for the past six months, presumably ever since she found out our address. Each one has been darker and darker. I have no reason to believe this once is any different.”

“What does she... what does she say?”

“Alyssa, dearest love of my heart, Emilie is clearly unwell. You remember her words the last time you saw her? Now... there is no need for you to read her evil words,” he proclaimed.

“Why doesn’t... why doesn’t she love me?”

Howard got up from his chair, quickly rounded the desk, and circled her in his embrace, “I don’t know, Alyssa. I wish I did because then maybe I could fix her. I don’t know.”

She sniffed, rubbing her nose, “It’s because I’m an evil whore.”

He snapped back, “What in god’s name makes you think that?”

“Becca says so. And she’s really popular so it must be true. Especially if my own mother thinks it too.”

He tilted her chin up to him, “There is absolutely no reason to think that, Alyssa. You’re a beautiful, intelligent young woman. Becca is clearly jealous and Emilie is insane. Both of them are wrong about you.”

She shook her head, tears running down her face, “Daddy, no one likes me.”

“Well I like you plenty. And I would say that your mom and Judith do too. I always see you playing with the kids at church and at all my work events. And didn’t Isabel spend the night last weekend? Plenty of people like you, Alyssa,” he assured her.

“I guess.”

“I’ll handle Becca. I promise.”

“Mom already spoke to people at school months ago. And her parents. I’m in a different homeroom now, but she’s mean to me during breaks and lunch and after school,” she declared. “It doesn’t seem to matter, Daddy.”

“We’ll figure something out,” he declared.

Alyssa sighed, pulling out of his arms and looking back at the letter on the desk, “How many has she sent?”

“Including that one, fourteen,” Howard answered.

“Did you keep them all?”

He hesitated before lying, “No.”

“Then do the same with that one,” she decided. “I don’t need to know how evil I am.”

“Which is not at all.”

“Sure, Daddy. Whatever you say.”