#onision hate

As I walked up to her she asked me “How much have you missed me?”

 I replied, “How much does someone in the middle of a desert long for water?” 

I am not mentally prepared for this. 

She smiled and said “Well I missed you more than...” She looked around for a second trying to think of something only to laughed and give up on coming up with a different analogy. 

She said, “I missed you to a ridiculous extent too.” 

She pulled me in close and asked me another question, “Why haven’t you kissed me?” 

Because you aren’t officially dating?

Because you’ve known each other personally for a week and a half and this is probably just infatuation?

Who knows?

I smiled and replied “Well, you’ve kissed every part of my face outside my lips, so I supposed I should finally give something back.”

 Her eyes lit up and she gave me a huge smile.

Wrapping her hands around my neck, Abbi got up on her tiptoes as a pulled herself towards me.

I know it means she put her arms around his neck, but I’m just imagining Abbi asking him why he hasn’t kissed her, him saying that thing about her kissing his face, she smiles, and then just fucking chokes him.

Couple goals.

She gave me the softest kiss I had ever felt. A surge of electricity shot between us. It felt like she was melting into me, that we were, somehow, in that moment, becoming one.

I really hated reading that.

I’ve written kiss scenes. I enjoy writing kiss scenes, you can convey a lot of emotion through them. They can even aid character development. But this is just these characters kissing to kiss. They don’t have enough romantic tension for this to be any kind of satisfying, and I also feel nothing but apathetic annoyance towards them, which is troubling 

We continued to kiss as a tiny thought loomed in the side of my mind. I had passively noticed the wind around us ceasing in movement just after our lips connected, as if the moving air itself had to stop and soak in this moment. 

I don’t know how much more of this purple prose I can fucking take.

After quite a few minutes passed we began to walk home together.

The text doesn’t state that they stopped kissing, so I’m just picturing them hobbling along while still making out and I’m not sure whether to laugh, cry, or scream at that mental image.

Our walk took us longer than usual as we kept stopping at every other tree and building to kiss more.

I mean, horny teenagers will be horny teenagers.

She says, as if she isn’t nineteen and still a teenager.

 It was such an amazing feeling to be so important to someone, to be so loved.

I’m so tired of saying what you absolutely know I’m going to say, I feel like a goddamn broken record. 

As we approached Abbi’s home we could hear loud music being played inside, reverberating through the walls. He father burst out the door; I imagine he saw us through one of his dirt-stained windows.

Oh. I don’t tell me we’re doing this.

Not caring that everyone around was about to get dunked into a massive tank of his emotional instability he screamed, “Abbigale! Where have you been?”

 He clenched a beer in his hand as he breathed in the same way I’d expect an angry bull with spears dangling from their bleeding back to.

Of course. Of fucking course we’re doing this. It’s fucking trauma bingo with this girl. 

I am not discounting or discrediting any victims of abuse, I hope that any one of you who is a victim is able to get the help you need and deserve, but it’s absolutely disgusting to romanticize abuse like Onion is here. Abuse is not cute, and abuse victims aren’t cute little pets you can parade around and treat like something you rescued and fixed up. They’re not stray animals, they’re people, and they deserve to be treated with humanity and kindness instead of like an accessory to satiate your goddamn hero complex. 

Jesus Christ, I hate Gregory James Jackson. Or whatever the fuck he’s calling himself these days. 

His inhaling seemed nearly as loud as his speech as he continued. “You got some damn chores to do! And I’m sick of you coming home late every other night!”

She— She isn’t late? She just got home, school probably just ended. I’m not really sure, I wasn’t cleared on what time of day it is currently in the book.

Abbi and I both knew most every time she was late, it was because she was sitting outside her house refusing to go in until she could determine whether or not her father was in a stable enough state to be around.

So her father is such a fucking NPC that he never thought to look out the window or open the fucking door or go look for his daughter? Nevermind, we already knew that Onion is a terrible writer

Abbi was squeezing my arm tightly as he continued to yell, “You think I won’t abandon you just like your mother you little ungrateful brat? I raised you to show zero respect for me? Is that how I raised you?” 

Cars continued to pass by, unresponsive to her father’s outbursts. 

Maybe I’m just intensely midwestern, but I find it somewhat unusual that nobody would stop to help someone clearly being abused. 

I mean, personally, I would stop, let her hide out in my car, let her use my phone to call the police, etc. I dunno, I guess that’s just me.

Her father continued to scream seeming completely delusional and detached from the world around him. At that point I wasn’t sure if it was more who he was or what he was using that made him become the monster he was. 

And here we see Onion spewing his usual nonsense about how alcohol very bad.

And while I can’t argue that substance abuse is a horrible, horrible thing, people can drink socially and not be alcoholics. Alcohol isn’t evil, Onion, but misuse of it does bring out the evil in people. The same goes with drugs. Greg has the habit of demonizing mental illness and addiction, and it’s disgusting. 

I find characters like this to be trite and unnecessary. He’s here to be, in the words of Strange AEons, Bad Guy McBad, further demonizing a problem a lot of people have and are actively trying to fix. Addiction is often times a very scary and tragic thing, and portraying only the scary big mean man stereotype is damaging. It’s why people look down their noses at addicts, even if they’re trying to get clean.

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk, let’s move on.

Anyway, James is doing nothing to stop this, like, speak up, maybe? 

After a short while of his outburst I could see in the corner of my eye a police officer approach on foot. The officer, likely having seen this kind of behavior on a daily basis, now stood quietly in the distance with his work dog, just as silent as his master, looking on as well.

I— Okay. 

Fuck you, I guess.

Her father continued to rant and throw objects lying outside at his own house, “Are you going to answer me? Are you going to say anything? Am I gonna have to drag you inside this house to get a response out of you?”

This cop is just— not doing anything in a clear domestic dispute? He could get suspended for that.

Also, why the fuck is he there? Did someone call him? If so, why? And why is he just fucking standing on a street corner with a dog, not doing anything? 

After throwing a couple more rocks and bottles at his house he began to dance mockingly, 

Wait he was throwing these things at his own house? I thought he was throwing them at Abbi. What possible reason would he have to cause property damage to his own property?

We’re just gonna gloss right over the dancing thing, I’m not really sure how to react to that. 

“Because this whole world doesn’t give a damn about you Abbigale! I could knock you right out and not a soul would care. 

I mean, James would probably care, even if he’s standing there like a Skyrim NPC.

Also the cop would probably care if you fucking assaulted her. Have fun in jain, dumbass. Verbal threats like that are enough to get you arrested.

No one cares about you but me! You disrespect me?” 

This is the most canned tirade of insults I have ever read. I could close my eyes and type something more cutting than this. 

I opened my mouth to argue in her defense but Abbi pulled on my arm, physically insisting I stay silent.

That’s somewhat a realistic response, I suppose, if Abbi is worried her father will hurt James, but in reality it’s probably Onion wanting the abuse to go further so James can play the big hero. 

Her father saw my mouth move and exploded on me, quickly shortening the distance between us as he spoke “What is it you punk? 

What? That doesn’t make any—

Oh. Onion didn’t put a comma before ‘you punk,’ so it didn’t sound right when I read that in my head. 

Also, I’ve been so used to wearing masks that I about typed ‘how could he see that through his mask?’ But then I remembered we haven’t always been living under the thumb of pestilence.

What do you have to say? Do you know what she is? 

What, is she secretly a werewolf or something? That would make this book about a million times more interesting. 

Do you even know the first thing about this freak?” 

I’d imagine he’d know enough to know she doesn’t deserve abuse. Nobody does, even shitty book characters.

He violently shifted towards Abbi and began stumbling and reaching for her. Sounding deranged, he said “I’m gonna drag you in by your little rat tail Abbigale!”

I hope he’s just calling her a rat and not implying that she has a rat tail, because that would be criminal. I just imagine her with an early 2000′s emo haircut and I will continue to imagine her that way, thank you very much.

I quickly stepped in front of her. In complete shock, her father impulsively swung his beer at me; it collided with the side of my skull causing blood to pour out from underneath my hair. 

I’m sorry, I know that’s bad, and James probably got a head injury from that, but the way it was described makes it seem like James’ hair is separate from his body. The description makes me think of how like, in cartoons when someone takes off a hat after getting drenched and a waterfall comes pouring out. I couldn’t find a gif, but I’m like, 99.9% sure that happened in several cartoons I saw as a kid. 

So I’m picturing James doing that, but with his hair, and instead of water, it’s blood. It’s a bit more morbid, but a silly mental image nonetheless. 

I remained standing but had trouble seeing, all I could hear was a deep grumbling tone accompanied by an irritating but subtle ringing.

That’s probably not good.

I looked up slowly to see, with my blurred vision, 

Looked up from what? Did he collapse? I wasn’t informed of that.

the police dog dragging Abbi’s dad away by his arm. From what I could make out the cop had no interest in calling the dog off. It was as if he enjoyed seeing people who commit unprovoked violence suffer an even greater opposing force as everyone knew it was over the moment the dog latched.

Run on sentence aside, I think I empathize with the cop here. As big of a softie as I am, I do enjoy seeing scumbags like Abbi’s dad get their comeuppance. 

It had barely taken any time for Abbi to remove her jacket and press the soft interior against the side of my head. I could see her father’s condition was not at all on her mind, she had chosen me, like I had chosen her, over not just one person or another but everyone.

That feels unhealthy.

30 minutes passed, and Abbi and I were both sitting on the ground as her father sat in the back of the K-9 SUV now parked in front of Abbi’s house. 

I’m not an expert on police procedures, though I am fairly knowledgeable regarding them. My knowledge is lacking, however, when it comes to K-9 units. According to Google, though, K-9 officers and their dogs often patrol places like airports, harbors, and borders, and they also complete searches of schools, prisons, vehicles, etc. The part about searches is common knowledge, though, and I already knew about that. With the amount of true crime I watch, that’s a given.

However, I don’t think K-9 units are just called to stand on street corners. That just doesn’t seem like a thing that happens.

The patrolman was waiting for an ambulance, emotionless. 

Aren’t police supposed to do traffic control? Call for backup? Comfort/question the witness/victim? A crime was committed here. They need Abbi and James’ statements. 

He shouldn’t just be standing there like an NPC.

I knew it would be gullible of me to assume he had never seen anything like this; in fact it was probably a daily occurrence. 

I mean, I don’t think he’d be totally detached from a tragic situation like this. 

Everyone gets numb to routine no matter how dramatic or strange. This officer had a look like he had seen this day come and go a hundred times before. Abbi’s father was just another drunk, just another evolved ape throwing his life away.

Yes, but it’s his fucking job to arrest creeps like Abbi’s dad, and if he doesn’t treat the case with care he could get suspended. 

When the ambulance arrived the patrolmen asked me if I wanted to press charges, 

So let me get this straight.

Patrolman means cop. So the cop already there arrested Abbi’s father, put him in his car, and then just… stood there until the ambulance arrived. After that, a separate patrolman asked James if he wanted to press charges, instead of the arresting officer?

Or alternatively, if I read that wrong, and I very well may have due to how confusing these descriptions are, the cop arrested the father and stood in one spot without saying anything until the ambulance arrived, waiting until another policeman showed up to ask James if he wanted to press charges. Like, he needed a second person with him to ask that question for some indiscernible, arbitrary reason.

Neither of those make sense, but then again, nothing does in this bastardization of the English language in disguise of a book.

I wasn’t sure what to do until Abbi quickly leaned towards my ear, telling me that if I didn’t, it would mean he could take out whatever anger he had on her after everyone had left, as he remained her legal guardian. Without further thought I made my choice and took the action that was in the best interest of her safety.

I mean, yeah, Abbi has a point, but also, if he was actively abusing her, in front of a fucking cop, no less, wouldn’t it be protocol to call Child Protective Services? I’m under the impression that Abbi is seventeen, therefore she’s still a minor, therefore a child in the eyes of the law. I was never in any situations similar to this, so I’m not really sure what would happen to someone who was a year from turning eighteen, but I’d imagine she’d be sent to a foster home until she did turn eighteen, if she had no other family she could stay with in the meantime. She’s still a dependent, and the law would treat her as such. 

The officer asked Abbi if she wanted to have assistance with her living situation while they dealt with her father, she replied that she would stay with me.

I— Is that allowed?

I don’t think that’s allowed. James isn’t an adult, either, he said earlier that he’s seventeen. Is his family still in their apartment or did they already move in with James’ mom’s boyfriend? If they are, fine, if his mom allows it, but if they aren’t, I don’t think that’s a thing that would happen.

“Are you sure about that? Kid’s going to need some stitches, might be a little groggy for a few days with that head injury.” 

Put him in a fucking hospital, you moron, he might be concussed. Head injuries are no joke.

She replied, “It may as well have been me, and that’s all the more reason for me to stay with him. I’m not going anywhere.” 

If this is an elaborate excuse to get them in a bed together I will lose my marbles. 

He nodded as the ambulance pulled up, briefing the driver, he then ensured he had everything he needed to process his paperwork, and left the area with Abbi’s father in custody.

Isn’t paperwork done at the station after the suspect is taken in? You don’t just process the arrest on site, as far as I know. Also, I assume he was read his Miranda rights, but that wasn’t discussed, so who the fuck even knows anymore.

The ambulance workers stitched me up then and there. While they were finishing up, Abbi called us a taxi, which shortly after returned us to my home.

Excuse me? 

No. James would need to be taken into the hospital. If he’s groggy like that, he might have a concussion, and he needs to be observed. You don’t just slap a bandage on someone who just got a head injury and send them home. All of these people should be fired. 

Abbi and I rested on my bed covers still wearing our shoes and everything. My mind was too distracted by what had happened when we came in to worry about dirty blankets. Breaking the silence Abbi said, “You’re the most loving and selfless person I’ve ever known.” 

I am so tired of James and how everyone worships him for doing nothing. He got whacked in the head and did nothing to protect Abbi beyond moving in front of her. He said nothing when she was being verbally abused, and just generally acted like the cardboard cutout he is. 

I still felt conflicted about so many things outside Abbi but I didn’t want to ruin her compliment so I replied “But you forgot to include yourself, Abbi.”

 She smiled doubtfully. I stared into her eyes, and she tried to look back, but was struggling with emotions rapidly overtaking her. 

She began tearing up and said, “Well James, whatever love I have, it’s all for you.” 

This is—

I could get into how absurd this is, and the psychology regarding abuse victims latching onto people who are kind to them as a survival method, but I’m way too tired for that.

Tears began to fall down her face, “I love you too,” I said. 

She started crying and pulled herself tightly against me. “I love you,” she whispered under her breath continuing to cry.

Together, we drifted gently into a warm sleep.

Uh. Okay. So that was a weird and wild ride. I hated it. It was probably supposed to be romantic, but it was just a lot of savior complex shit mixed with trauma bingo and so many clichés it’s making my head hurt. It was a cookie cutter piece of prose that exists in a million wattpad books, and even those manage to do it better than this drivel. 

It was also an elaborate way to get Abbi into James’ bed, and that’s stupid and trite and unoriginal and everything in between. It was also totally insensitive and poorly researched. Those cops and EMTs need to be fired, a trained poodle could do better than that. The total lack of procedure or research of any kind, while unsurprising, was still baffling to me. 

God, this book is aggressively stupid. 

I’ll see you next time.