{"sf1_id":1672333,"sf2_id":"RnoEW00e","title":"The Leaves of Fall Act 3: Something That Matters (Part 4)","author":"Oliver_Hart","words":2947,"posted_at":"2021-01-11T20:42:50.000Z","tags":["Adventure","Alternate Reality","Anon","Boy","Brother","Bunny","Classroom","Couple","Emo","Fight","Girl","Green text","Greentext","HMOFA","Halloween","Heterosexual","High School","Hmofa/","Human","Kissing","Plot Development","Rabbit","Siblings","Slow burn","Young Romance","anthro/human"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1672333-the-leaves-of-fall-act-3-something-that-matters-part-4","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/s/RnoEW00e","image_url":"https://cdn.sofurryfiles.com/submissions/thumbnails/d2/7e/d27ecf43-3281-4513-89b5-6c1014d4d74c","description":"You've never really 'fit in' with the heavily divided Ranchview High School crowd. Jock, Goth, Prep, Cheerleader, Nerd... you were never any of these. But as Halloween approaches, strange things start happening, and a dark ritual begins with the finding of a curious red book. It's a race against time for you and your friends to stop a group of students from ushering in an age of darkness, and to also figure out just what the hell is wrong with that rabbit.  \n~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  \n  \nAbout this version: originally, The Leaves of Fall was split into two pastebins to compensate for the length of the story. Given that pastebin has chosen to censor this story for ambiguous reasons, it will forever be stored here and on AO3. This new version contains spelling, grammar and content fixes. Please understand that the content is all the same as the earlier versions minus some sentences being changed and fixed up. I cannot stress this enough: no new content has been added. It's my hope that this is a cleaner, easier-to-read version of the story.  \n  \nCover: [https://imgur.com/a/vZS4Q](https://imgur.com/a/vZS4Q)  \nSam (drawn by Akella of /hmofa/) [https://imgur.com/a/nk3t1wT](https://imgur.com/a/nk3t1wT)  \nFan art collection: [https://imgur.com/a/SCCSIQv](https://imgur.com/a/SCCSIQv)  \nAccompanying playlist (WIP): [https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL9aXlzDRA49QKxgYsOV2JuDd410\\_nI-0J](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL9aXlzDRA49QKxgYsOV2JuDd410_nI-0J)  \nAlternative link: [https://www.sofurry.com/view/1479078](https://www.sofurry.com/view/1479078)  \nTotal word count: 147,552 words","content":"\\\u003e\"Unwanted.\"\n\n\\\u003eThe words fall from your father's lips like they were 20 tons apiece\n\n\\\u003eHis face is stern and hard; carved out of granite and limestone, weathered by whiskey\n\n\\\u003e\"And that's all she'll ever be. A burden. Hold her arm out,\" he commands\n\n\\\u003eJacob is still\n\n\\\u003eYou tremble all over, fear tracing cold fingers up and down your spine\n\n\\\u003eTears swell up in your eyes, but you can't look away from Dad's hard stare\n\n\\\u003eBe strong\n\n\\\u003eBe brave\n\n\\\u003eYour brother puts his hand on your shoulder while Dad sucks on his cigarette\n\n\\\u003eSmoke tendrils — midnight black — wisp up into a cloudless sky and evaporate into the sunlight\n\n\\\u003e\"No,\" Jacob says, his voice clipping hard in his throat\n\n\\\u003eHe's nervous, standing besides the car, parked at the rail yard\n\n\\\u003e\"You don't need to hurt us. We learned our lesson already,\" Jacob says\n\n\\\u003eYou look up into your brother's bruised face\n\n\\\u003eHis jaw is set hard and stern — just like Dad's\n\n\\\u003eHis eyes burn with heat and anger\n\n\\\u003eAnd despite the fear and trembling in his words, he's still Jacob\n\n\\\u003eHe's still his father's son\n\n\\\u003e\"What's the matter with you?\" Dad rises to his full height, standing at eye-level with Jacob. His ears stick straight up like pillars. “You were always a good boy, not like this runt here.\" He motions to you with a half-assed shrug of his shoulders. \"First I catch you two with my gun…\" he lifts his greasy work shirt up a little to reveal the pistol tucked in his waistband “…and then I catch you two trying to run away?\"\u0026nbsp;\n\n\\\u003eDad jerks his chin to a pile of old clothes, two backpacks, and a gleaming aluminum baseball bat sitting besides his rusted sedan\n\n\\\u003e\"You got something to prove?\" He asks giving Jacob a hard look\n\n\\\u003eYour brother doesn't answer\n\n\\\u003eDad scowls harder, his lower lip trembling as rage boils and churns in his guts\n\n\\\u003e\"You think you're some kind of man?\" He asks again\n\n\\\u003eYour mind is cast back to the last time — in the kitchen — when Jacob said he 'was a man'\n\n\\\u003eThe blow your father dealt him still makes your heart skip\n\n\\\u003eAfter a silence, Dad bends down to your pathetic height, curving his gnarled spine\n\n\\\u003eYou're just 14, Jacob 20, and even for a girl, you're small, thin and delicate\n\n\\\u003eYou're trying to be strong, but you can't help the tears\n\n\\\u003eDad's expression is cold\n\n\\\u003eHis dead eyes look directly through you\n\n\\\u003e\"Roll up your sleeves. Hold out your arm.\"\n\n\\\u003eJacob grips your shoulder tight\n\n\\\u003eYou know what's coming next\n\n\\\u003eDad holds the cigarette lighter from his car up to you so you can see\n\n\\\u003eIts coils glow angry and red with trapped heat\n\n\\\u003e\"Dad,\" Jacob starts, looking down at you. “Don't. She didn't do anything wrong. I was the one who came up with the idea to run away. I made her do it. If you have to punish anyone…\"\u0026nbsp;\n\n\\\u003eJacob's courage falters as he looks down at the hot lighter, still bright orange\n\n\\\u003e\"Punish me. Not her,\" he says with a hard swallow\n\n\\\u003eDad squats down and roughly grabs your thin arm with a fierce scowl, still chewing on the end of his cigarette\n\n\\\u003eHe rakes back your sleeve, exposing your thin, brown fur\n\n\\\u003e\"Don't worry,\" he says. “You'll get yours. You two wanna act so brave? Thinkin' you two can just run off?\"\n\n\\\u003eYou're shaking something awful\n\n\\\u003eJacob's hands dig into your flesh\n\n\\\u003eYou try to focus on his presence and not your dad ringing his heavy hand around your delicate wrist\n\n\\\u003e\"All you'll ever be is a burden,\" Dad says to you\n\n\\\u003e\"Be strong,\" Jacob says in a whisper\n\n\\\u003eYour eyes slam shut\n\n\\\u003eYou jerk your head to the side and grit your teeth\n\n\\\u003eDad slams the lighter onto your arm, just below your shoulder\n\n\\\u003eThe pain hits you like a fucking train, searing into your fur and then your tender flesh\n\n\\\u003eYou can hardly hold back a scream\n\n\\\u003eYour heavy feet stamp into the dirt as dad lazily twists the lighter against your fur\n\n\\\u003eThe scent of gravel\n\n\\\u003eOf dust\n\n\\\u003eCigarette smoke\n\n\\\u003eOf burning fur\n\n\\\u003eYou suck these in deeply and let them pollute your young lungs\n\n\\\u003eYou want the cancer\n\n\\\u003eAnything to produce an absence in you\n\n\\\u003eVoid the soul\n\n\\\u003eCash the check\n\n\\\u003eHow do you disappear completely?\n\n\\\u003eWhat would Samurai Outlaw do right now?\n\n\\\u003eDad's grip on you tightens and an anguished scream rakes itself out of your chest\n\n\\\u003eSamurai Outlaw would fight back\n\n\\\u003eYour brother's baseball bat\n\n\\\u003eYou could make a break for it\n\n\\\u003eYou could… stand up for yourself\n\n\\\u003eFor Jacob\n\n\\\u003eMove it\n\n\\\u003eMove your FUCKING FEET\n\n\\\u003eFuck\n\n\\\u003eYour arm is starting to feel numb as the pain resides\n\n\\\u003eDad releases his vise grip on you\u0026nbsp;\n\n\\\u003eWhen your eyes unglue, you hesitantly look down at your arm\n\n\\\u003eThere's a ring of singed fur where the lighter was pressed against your tender flesh\n\n\\\u003eBeneath that your pale skin is bright red and oozing blood and pus\n\n\\\u003eIt looks boiled over and ugly\n\n\\\u003eYou try delicately touching it, but draw your hand away when even the slightest probing sends shockwaves of agony through your body\n\n\\\u003e\"Your turn,\" Dad says between his smoke\n\n\\\u003eHe grabs Jacob's arm and shoves his sleeve upwards\n\n\\\u003e\"We're not done — not yet.\"\n\n\\\u003eA train whistle sounds over head\n\n\\\u003eYou stand on railroad ties, facing the tunnel as if it were the barrel of a loaded gun\n\n\\\u003e\"When I was your age, my father used to take me out to the tracks and make me dodge trains until I could barely move.\" Your Dad takes a long swig out of his bottle\n\n\\\u003eJacob stands off to the side, watching you with nervous eyes\n\n\\\u003e\"And I know you two been out here. I know all kinds of shit you two been up to. Jacob been bringin' you out here so he can jump ties, just like his old man. But not like you.\"\n\n\\\u003eHe spits into the dirt and mashes it with his heels\n\n\\\u003e\"You ain't blood.\"\n\n\\\u003eYou stare straight ahead as a train whistle shrieks in the tunnel\n\n\\\u003eAn advancing light begins to burn in the fathoms of darkness\n\n\\\u003eThe sun on your fur glazes you in a nervous sweat\n\n“I-I'm sorry!\" You cry\n\n\\\u003eYou're a coward\n\n\\\u003eThe worst kind\n\n\\\u003eWithout your brother you're not even a coward\n\n\\\u003eYou're nothing\n\n\\\u003eA train horn drowns out your pleading\n\n\\\u003eDad can only laugh in sharp fits\n\n\\\u003e\"Everyone's always sorry but nobody wants to own up to it.\" He takes another heavy pull on the bottle. “Now, I want a good clean dodge. No bullshit. No jumping too soon. You may be a bitch but I ain't raise no cowards.\"\n\n\\\u003eJacobs voice reaches your ears\n\n\\\u003e\"You're not a coward, Sam. C'mon, just like we practiced. One good jump. Then I go. And then we go home. Okay? Just a good dodge.\"\n\n\\\u003eYou can hear the hurt and worry in his voice\n\n\\\u003eThis isn't like those other times\n\n\\\u003eThis is under the eyes of that bastard father.\n\n\\\u003eWhen you look over, he's standing next to Dad, his mouth set in a hard, determined line, as if to say 'I know you can do this.'\n\n\\\u003eYou can feel the ground start to tremble as the train presses little earthquakes into the tracks\n\n\\\u003eIt's getting closer\n\n\\\u003eThat small bulb of light is now stretching its limbs\n\n\\\u003eGrowing like a beam of sunshine shot through the darkness\n\n\\\u003eThe horn blares\n\n\\\u003eThe train rolls on\n\n\\\u003eSurely the conductor must see you standing there?\n\n\\\u003eWhat does it matter? It'll take miles to stop\n\n\\\u003eVomit rises in your throat and you start to choke\n\n\\\u003eYou're a coward\n\n\\\u003eA gut-puking coward\n\n\\\u003eThe horn shrieks again\n\n\\\u003eYou force the vomit back down into your gut\n\n\\\u003eYou can't move\n\n\\\u003eOh fuck\n\n\\\u003eYou can't…\n\n\\\u003e…Can't even think straight\n\n\\\u003eThe train blows out of the tunnel in a hurricane of steel\n\n\\\u003eIt's barreling forward\n\n\\\u003e\"GET READY!\" Your brother calls\n\n\\\u003eYou can barely hear him\n\n\\\u003eOr the train\n\n\\\u003eYou can't even feel the ground shaking anymore\n\n\\\u003eAll you feel is that rush taking over your head\n\n\\\u003eBlood pulsing in your temples\n\n\\\u003eHeart racing in the thin cage of your chest\n\n\\\u003eKnees knocking one another\n\n\\\u003eAnd always the train racing against the tracks\n\n\\\u003eDraining fuel, chugging thick tendrils of black smoke\n\n\\\u003eUnstoppable…\n\n\\\u003eAnd the warm blood rush\n\n\\\u003eAnd your brother shouting “JUMP!\"\n\n\\\u003e\"JUMP!\"\n\n\\\u003eJUMP!\n\n\\\u003eYou feel the heat burning off its front, hear the ear-shattering blare of its horn, see the worried face of the conductor\n\n\\\u003eIts horn shrieks one last time\n\n\\\u003eEverything goes quiet\n\n\\\u003eAnd… You want it to hit you\n\n\\\u003eYou want that oblivion\n\n\\\u003eJ U M P\n\n\\\u003eWith your eyes shut tight, you pretend you're Samurai Outlaw\n\n\\\u003eAnd this is your tragic end at the hands of a diabolical villain\n\n\\\u003eBut you're too scared to even die, aren't you?\n\n\\\u003eToo much of a coward to let this train hit you\n\n\\\u003eAnd yet, you can't move\n\n\\\u003e\"MOVE!\"\n\n\\\u003eUnwilling in life to stand up for yourself\n\n\\\u003eUnwilling in death to die\n\n\\\u003eYou'll exist in a temporary stasis\n\n\\\u003eJust a few simple feet of track between you and oblivion while the train bolts forward, so close it begins sucking air from your lungs\n\n\\\u003e\"SAM!\"\n\n\\\u003eJacob leaps…\n\n\\\u003e…Throws his full, protective weight at you…\n\n\\\u003e…Lunges forward, onto the tracks…\n\n\\\u003e…Knocking you to the other side…\n\n\\\u003e…Sending you crashing into the dirt\n\n\\\u003eYour father starts forward, and for the very first time in your entire fucking life, he looks scared\n\n\\\u003eJacob sits up on the tracks\n\n\\\u003eHis amber eyes meet yours with the most worried kindness you've ever seen\n\n\\\u003eAnd all you can see is relief spreading across his face, for just a fraction of a second\n\n\\\u003eHis mouth starts working to say something, forming shapes and letters and syllables borne out of love\n\n\\\u003eAnd, as if he was never there to begin with, Jacob is gone in a storm of steel\n\n\\\u003eThe train rolls on\n\n\\\u003eThe cops ruled it as a suicide\n\n\\\u003eBut you know it wasn't\n\n\\\u003eWhen the nice human investigators came to your house, you followed along with what Dad told them\n\n\\\u003e\"W-W-We tried t-t-to stop h-h-him,\" you stammered, leg pounding anxiously into the air as you sit at the kitchen table\n\n\\\u003eYou've never been tall enough to reach the floor\n\n\\\u003eYou tried not looking them in the eyes. Somehow, you thought, they'd know it was you that killed him\n\n\\\u003eYou washed up\n\n\\\u003eYou brushed your fur\n\n\\\u003eYou put on some of Jacob's clean clothes (they smelled like him; they made you feel like he was still here to protect you)\n\n\\\u003eHad to look presentable for the officers, after all\n\n\\\u003eYou tried talking loudly but your voice only came out in squeaks\n\n\\\u003eAnd in the back of your mind, sitting at the freshly cleaned table, you can only hear one word on repeat, over and over again, a nauseating carousel of unbridled and unkempt self-hatred: “murderer\"\n\n\\\u003e\"We're deeply sorry for your loss,\" the investigators say, almost in unison\n\n\\\u003eBut it's not that scripted, forced kind of sympathy either. They exude kindness\n\n\\\u003eOne of them claps you softly on the shoulder, his deep blue eyes meeting yours\n\n\\\u003eThose eyes are drunk on starlight and concern, half closed, as if pressed down by the investigator's heavy, troubled brow\n\n\\\u003e\"Listen, if you ever feel like you need to talk to someone…\" the friendly investigator produces a pamphlet from his back pocket “…Just call the number down here.\" He points to a long telephone number with his pen\n\n\\\u003eYou take the pamphlet from him with trembling little hands and look it over\n\n\\\u003eIt seems to be about loss and grief\n\n\\\u003eThe number is for a free counselor\n\n\\\u003e\"The state offers resources to families like yours.\"\n\n\\\u003eYour dad's eyes are hard and set forward on the other officer, who seems to be regarding the kitchen with a modicum of disgust\n\n\\\u003e\"So you're saying he didn't leave a note?\" The other officer asks, curious\n\n\\\u003e\"Nope, no note,\" Dad returns in a calm breath. “Just up and got himself killed on those tracks\"\n\n\\\u003eJotting quick notes, the officer continues his assessment of your kitchen\n\n\\\u003e\"How about his mother?\" He holds an expectant breath as he meets Dad's gaze\n\n\\\u003e\"She's gone,\" Dad says sharp enough to cut the officer's throat. “She was a cheat. Up and left. That's all that happened.\"\n\n\\\u003eThe officer nods and mutters something to his partner, still scribbling notes with a free hand\n\n\\\u003eDad's eyes flick to the open notepad\n\n\\\u003eA scowl contorts his features. \"What, don't you believe me? My own son is dead and you're— you're-\"\n\n\\\u003e\"Standard procedure. I just need to document all of this for my report, Mr. Garlen.\" He jots a sentence shut and stares with disdain back at Dad\n\n\\\u003eDad nudges you with his feet\n\n\\\u003eYou understand his language\n\n\\\u003eThe unspoken gestures\n\n\\\u003eAll the language he makes out of violence\n\n\\\u003eHe wants you to say something\n\n“J-J-Jacob was a-a-always talking about… it… but I n-n-never thought he'd a-a-actually g-go through with… it…\"\n\n\\\u003eGod, you liar\n\n\\\u003eYou're worse than Dad\n\n\\\u003eYou know you got your brother killed\n\n\\\u003eDad knows\n\n\\\u003eYou want to hop up on the table and scream from the heavens 'YES! I WAS THE ONE WHO GOT JAKE KILLED! IT WAS ME!'\n\n\\\u003eBut you shrink further into your brother's old hoodie without saying a damn fucking word\n\n\\\u003eThe other, kinder officer, nods in approval. “Jesus, nobody should have to go through this. Nobody.\" He rises from his seat. “Got everything, Clemens?\"\n\n\\\u003e'Clemens' follows suit\n\n\\\u003e\"Yeah, I think that should do it.\" His eyes sweep the kitchen one last time.\n\n\\\u003eThey linger on Dad, and his mouth falls open, almost as if he's about to say something\n\n\\\u003eThen his eyes flick over to you, shrunken in your seat, feeling like the smallest thing in the world\n\n\\\u003eHe levels his pen towards you\n\n\\\u003e\"Actually… Samantha? Can I speak with you in private?\" He says\n\n\\\u003eDad raises an eyebrow\n\n\\\u003e\"What for?\" He huffs\n\n\\\u003eWhatever semblance of pleasantness he put on was slipping down his face in the form of sweat\n\n\\\u003eThe officer gives Dad a hard stare\n\n\\\u003e\"I just want to speak to her.\" He turns back to you and smiles sympathetically. “Is that alright?\"\n\n\\\u003e…\n\n\\\u003eThis might be your chance\n\n\\\u003eYou could tell this officer everything\n\n\\\u003eAll the years of neglect and abuse\n\n\\\u003eAll the endangerment\n\n\\\u003eThe scars and welts on your body and arms\n\n\\\u003eYou could get out of here\n\n\\\u003eBut you'd be getting out alone, wouldn't you?\n\n\\\u003eNo Jacob anymore\n\n\\\u003eNot after you killed him\n\n\\\u003eYou don't deserve anything\n\n\\\u003eSomewhere, deep inside, you fight down the urge to go back to the tracks yourself and hurl yourself in front of a train\n\n\\\u003eIf only you weren't such a goddamn coward\n\n\\\u003eLike the bug that you are, your eyes flick towards Dad\n\n\\\u003eHis ashen face is cold with hatred\n\n\\\u003eYou know exactly what he's trying to say, all without ever having to utter a single word\n\n\\\u003e'Don't make it worse for yourself'\n\n\\\u003eYou look back at the officer, who waits expectantly\n\n\"N-N-N-No. I-I don't t-t-think I can t-t-talk a-anymore about thi-this,\" you say, throwing your face to the side to try to hide the lie in your eyes\n\n\\\u003eThe officer frowns a bit, and then bites down on his bottom lip a bit\n\n\\\u003e\"Well, if you ever want to talk to us, you have our card. And if you ever need to… talk… to someone, just call the number on the back of that pamphlet. Okay?\"\n\n\\\u003eYou can't even look him in the eyes\n\n“O-Okay.\"\n\n\\\u003eThe two officers turn and thank your dad\n\n\\\u003e\"And again, we're deeply sorry for your loss,\" 'Clemens' says, before tipping his hat and heading out the front door\n\n\\\u003eIt bangs shut, leaving only you and Dad in silence\n\n\\\u003eDad watches as their car rolls on down the block and disappears around the corner where the streets have no name\n\n\\\u003eHe turns to you, and you can see the fire in his eyes\n\n\\\u003eYou push back from the table, the chair squealing in protest\n\n\\\u003e\"Don't you run, boy,\" Dad says. “Not this time. Not this time.\"\n\n\\\u003e'Boy'?\n\n\\\u003e\"That's right, 'boy', because you're going to pay back what you stole from me.\" His voice begins to break in a slurred staccato. “You're going to give me my son back, you bitch.\"\u0026nbsp;\n\n\\\u003eAnd for once in your life, you can see tears welling in your father's sunken, bloodshot eyes\n\n\\\u003eThey saturate his unwashed fur and burn a path down his cheeks\n\n\\\u003eYou can't be Jacob\n\n\\\u003eJacob was too much like Dad\n\n\\\u003eAnd you're nothing like that. But you can use what Jacob learned. You can be tough and strong and brave\n\n\\\u003eYou think\n\n\\\u003eDad advances forward\n\n\\\u003e\"You bastard son of a bitch,\" he says\n\n\\\u003eYou try to stand at your full height and puff out your meager chest\n\n\\\u003e\"And you ain't even my kin,\" he sobs loudly\n\n\\\u003eHe enters the kitchen and pushes the table aside\n\n\\\u003e\"Well, you smarmy cunt. One day you're going to pay back what you owe. You're going to pay me back-\" his voice breaks. “-One way or another.\"\n\n\\\u003eYour eyes shut tight and you tremble, still trying to hold yourself as tall as your brother once was\n\n\\\u003eBut you're not him\n\n\\\u003eYou're not brave or strong or fierce like Jacob\n\n\\\u003eYou're Samantha- no, SAM Garlen\n\n\\\u003eYou're weak, spineless, and you deserve everything that's coming to you\n\n“I-I'm sorry,\" you whisper, though you don't think Dad can hear you through the cloud of rage\n\n\\\u003eYour fingers reflexively clench onto the pamphlet the cops gave to you like it was some kind of life raft in a terrible storm\n\n\\\u003eAnd then the pain comes","series":{"name":"The Leaves of Fall","previous":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1670329-the-leaves-of-fall-act-3-something-that-matters-part-3.json","next":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1673750-the-leaves-of-fall-act-3-something-that-matters-part-5.json"}}