Ranger Benstaloe D10 (Finished)

The dark skies filled with flickering stars comes out like a comfort that he needed. As Ranger roams out of the house quietly, letting the door shut softly behind him as he sits upon the wooden steps of the home. The moon twinkles at the boy as he stares out into the horizon. The world glowed with every glance he makes. The night was the only time that he could escape from the pace of life that embodied his entire being. The slow breeze that tickles his skin pink with cooling air, the steady flow of a soothing noise that comforts his tired heart.

The silence was the only thing he truly enjoyed as the people changed in every way as they could. Brown hair, thick and messily shoved upwards into a sort of style. Blue eyes that are filled with a good life, but troubles within his mind. Confusion of the world that they live in deep within his eyes and veins. Maturity within his features, but he still dreamed of the days of when they were kids. Dreams of when his brother meant the world to him. He still did. Royce always meant the world to Ranger, even if they weren’t always getting along. His features are more defined and sharp than Royce’s ended up being, His jawline was a thing of beauty to many women. Ranger’s smile is pure and white with every sly grin and flirtatious laugh.

Hands rise with the wind, large and warm to the touch, they cut the wind perfectly protecting his defined face. Legs, long and strong, stand tall with a rebellious tone as the night continues to grow prettier with every second. Grass moving creating a noise so soothing that it makes his body shudder in calmness. Toned muscles along his chest, legs, and arms fill his body in, from all of the labor induced jobs that he’s had to do over the years to ease the stress of his parents who barely made much, yet they still somehow manage to get enough food on the table every night, even if it wasn’t the greatest of meals, he would eat his entire plate, thank his parents, and slink off into some hole in the house to think.

The night air was calming, but if he stood out there too long, he would be dead. Dead to his father and the expectations that they had of him. The perfect son that they could ask for. Popularity seemed to surround him. School, home, jobs, friends, family. Everyone that could give him attention did, except for Royce. His brother hidden within the background because of Ranger. The only person that he truly wanted any attention from. They were twins, but they felt so apart, so disconnected that it tore at Ranger’s soul every waking moment. His mind asking him when Royce is going to learn that Ranger wasn’t trying to be the spotlight. He wasn’t the perfect son; he never would be. There wasn’t such a thing as the perfect son or the perfect man in his eyes. Everyone had their flaws, just like himself. Flaws that could be pointed out, but only seen if a person chose to.

They weren’t noticeable at all with how charismatic Ranger was, always a smile upon his face at everyone that he meets. A kind and gentle greeting of politeness to everyone that he could meet. The air outside makes him shiver even more as he slinks back into the home, switching his focus to the thoughts of how they were. They were different in their lives, but they come from the same blood, the same family, and the same everything, except for treatment within the family. While Ranger was more of the favorite, Royce was treated as an outcast by their father. If Ranger wasn’t fast enough, his father would catch him and be disappointed. A scolding for being out late would come to him, but that’d be it. No smack on the back of the head like Royce would have been forced to endure.

Royce was his hero, even if so many others would disagree with his opinion. Royce has endured so much hell from their father that Ranger didn’t even know all about. Surviving in a place that someone never wants you to exist in, well, is a miracle. At least to Ranger, he can see it as a miracle. Enduring smacking, taunting, and the verbal abuse of their father. Ranger wouldn’t last a day in Royce’s shoes. That’s why Royce was a hero in his eyes, even if everyone disagreed. They were blood. Ranger looked out for him as much as possible, even if he didn’t know about it. How could he stand by while the tormenting continued every second of every day.

As for Ranger, praise for the gentlemen manners that he had been taught and expected of at a young age. Always a person pleaser to everyone that he met. Manipulation to forcing him to be submissive to his parent’s expectation. Never greet a person with a scowl. Never laugh at a person doing something wrong by accident. Be there for everyone you can be. Smile at all people that talk to you. Expectations that live in his mind every day. A gentle whisper of the things his parents wanted him to be. A success story for the Benstaloes who needed it with the failure of other cousins. “Ranger’s the perfect son.” His mother would cry out to her friends as they drink the liquid that he learned to sneak into his room.

The expectations were there, but Ranger hated them. Listening willingly to their whispers and the stares that fall upon his body. Giving in like he was some sort of slave to his parents. Rules were meant to broken. Rules were meant to be bent. “Rules are meant to be followed” says the voice of his father. Ranger was caught in the hallway, only feet away from his room. His heart beats swiftly as his throat dries with the eyes of the man who brought him into the world. “Why is my son out so late? I’m disappointed.” The disappointment that his father was feeling sinks into Ranger’s soul. The words fall out faster than he expected, manners forced upon him at a young age. A people pleaser to all. “I’m sorry father. It won’t happen again. Please forgive me.” Fear strikes him in the heart. A coward, it’s all he was.

“You can go to your room. We’ll talk in the morning. Good night Ranger.”

And with the pair of eyes staring at him, the demon inside of his father laughing at his failure of being something that wasn’t their son. No one was perfect. Ranger would never be perfect. The liquid that he sneaks to his room helps him forget his fears, his people pleasing tendencies. The liquid gives him a barrier to block the signal for a short amount of time. Never does he dive into the stash hard, only a glass at a time. The escape from the reality of being under his father’s thumb at all times. A thumb that is virtually unmovable and crushing his lungs. Inhale. Exhale. Nothing but air somehow entering and exiting his body.

Morning wasn’t a hell that he had expected to see it as. His father’s silence was killing him inside. A knife plunging deep into his chest, breaking rib after rib, until his soul is crushed bit by bit. The silence was crushing his chest, blocking his breath’s escape. Minutes pass by, but they feel like hours. Hours of nothing but shame that binds his soul to his father’s gaze, until a smile pulls at his father’s lips. A wave of a friendly hello to himself and all Ranger can do is wave back. No punishment, no shame, only a forgotten night of trouble. The guilt would eat him alive, but obedience kept him sane.

Photos line the walls showing a perfect family and their perfection upon the walls of glory in their home. Photos of Ranger and Royce as babies, when their mother and father had only expected on child. Their parents had gotten two. Two heads were better than one, but his father never truly wanted an extra. Ranger could see it within his eyes. The disappointment that lays within them. His father would have to deal with it, as Royce was Ranger’s hero and no one could tear them apart. Even if they were already tearing from their parent’s preference in the two.

Growing up in a strict house was rough for Ranger, even if he had it easier than his brother. Manners were taught at a young age. Strict parents and kids who defy their rules were at a constant war with one another. Ranger wasn’t that kid, but he was defiant at times. His father made sure of him never being the defiant kid he used to be. Words and manners burned into his skin. All they had become was muscle memory. A polite greeting. Holding the door for anyone. Everything about Ranger was pleasing to his parents. Gratitude and attention were given to him. Ranger didn’t want it. He never wanted it.

Popularity was something that came to Ranger easily. The manners and the politeness that his parents forced upon him allowed making friends easy. Friends of all sorts flooded him with experiences and a joyful life, but Ranger could see his brother, alone. Ranger was recognizable to many within his class, but Royce wasn’t. Ranger was the center of attention everywhere, even if he tried not to. Girls became a thing for them soon enough and Ranger excelled in that part more. His father never truly knew of the flirting and flings that Ranger snuck around every so often to do. His father would kill him if he had found out. Some days, Ranger feels that somehow his father already knew of the secrets, but never mentioned it for Ranger’s sake.

Working was something Ranger liked to do. An escape from all the pestering and attention. He was just a person who was working to make a buck to help out at home. As poor as they were, their parent’s tried to make it seem like there never was a problem. They had a bigger problem than they would let on, but Ranger knew of it. Royce did too. Working was the only way for Ranger to show himself outside of the mask of manners that his parents created for him. Ranching was a business that was popular in District Ten. Ranger picked up as a farm hand when he could, doing odd jobs for farms and ranches when he could.

Their life seemed so perfect like the photos upon the wall, but Ranger knew the reality of it. A prison to hide his emotions in. A mask created by his parents to forces Ranger to being the perfect son that they always wanted. Defiance was looked at as shameful, but Ranger got away with it more than he would let on. There wasn’t a place for the broken boy to fit in at home. Royce was a hero in his eyes, even if his father disagreed. Popularity and attention were the chains that bound him to a torturous life that he didn’t want. They created him and he would break that creation down, piece by piece until he felt that he was truly the Ranger Benstaloe that he was meant to be. Perfection wasn’t real, but his parents tried to create it. He’d try to fight to his last breath if he could, but every day he feels himself growing tired of the world that had been created for him. The world that was his reality, but he would try to create a new one. One that he could be proud of.