Chapter Text
The first time it happened, Jonathan was five. He didn't remember why it happened, he just remembered his father raising his hand and striking him. He must have done something to deserve it... why else would his father have struck him?
Joyce didn't condone hitting a child. Lonnie claimed to have the same views... except for when he was drunk. The few times Joyce caught a drunk Lonnie in the middle of disciplining Jonathan, she had put a stop it to. Jonathan wasn't sure what was worse - the beating or the screaming between his parents.
At first, Jonathan had been desperate to reconcile his parents, so that everything could go back to normal. He didn't talk back to his parents, he did all of his chores without complaining. He tried his best in school, earning mostly A's and B's. But eventually he began to discover that it didn't matter what he did. Lonnie always found an excuse when he was drunk.
Lonnie's inability to hold down a job was a contributing factor in his reason behind the bottle. Joyce would tell Lonnie not to bother coming home if he was drunk, but sometimes he came back anyway. Their fighting would often wake Jonathan and Will up. Will would cry while Jonathan pulled the covers over his head and pressed his hands to his ears, attempting to drown out the screaming.
When Joyce wasn't around, Jonathan took the majority of the abuse, Will being too little. He always tried to fight back, but wasn't strong enough. There was one terrible time that Jonathan had walked in on Lonnie raising his hand to hit Will. Jonathan had attempted to shove his father away from his little brother, only Lonnie was like a brick wall and didn't budge. Jonathan had received a sharp slap across the face for that, but at least Will had been spared.
Occasionally, Jonathan would come to school with a visible mark or bruise. Teachers who appeared concerned would ask how things were at home, but he came to find out that most people didn't really care... they said one thing, but meant another. Most people in Hawkins turned a blind eye when it came to these types of things. So he would just shrug and remain quiet. Internalize the pain and push it aside to the back of his mind.
Jonathan could only remember a handful of times that Lonnie tried to connect with his oldest son. In particular, Lonnie tried to get Jonathan to participation in a school sport or take up hunting. Jonathan wasn't into sports. Not to say that he wasn't athletic, but his run was a bit awkward and his hand-eye coordination could use improvement. Lonnie had forced Jonathan to participate in Hawkins' little league baseball when he was in elementary school. Joyce tried to encourage him in this, said it would help him make friends, but Jonathan hated every minute of it. He remembered the look of disappointment in Lonnie's eyes every time he struck out or missed catching a pop-fly. Gathering his courage, in fifth grade, Jonathan had told Lonnie that baseball was stupid and he didn't want to play anymore. Much to his surprise, Lonnie hadn't argued or raised his voice or hit him. Instead, Lonnie let out a deep sigh of disappointment and simply nodded. Somehow, that was worse.
When Jonathan was nine, on the eve of his tenth birthday, Lonnie announced that he was going to take Jonathan hunting. Joyce had reservations, but Lonnie put his foot down, stating that it was time Jonathan became a man - and what better way of doing that than killing something.
Lonnie took Jonathan out into the woods behind their house and gave him a lesson in the basics of shooting and gun safety. It was okay at first. Jonathan liked being out in the woods, liked the smell of the fall leaves and the bite of the chill air. Lonnie told Jonathan stories about his father taking him hunting. They started tracking small game and soon came upon a rabbit. Lonnie helped Jonathan line up with his target and take aim. But once Jonathan looked down the sight at the rabbit, all he could imagine was Thumper from Bambi... and he froze. His father prodded him in the ribs, urging him to take the shot. Jonathan's eyes filled with tears and he began to shake his head.
Lonnie had sighed, deep and angry. "Stop being a fucking sissy and shot the goddamn rabbit."
Jonathan's chin quivered. He shut his eyes and pulled the trigger. BANG. The shot rang out, deafening in the silence of the forest.
Eventually, the ringing in his ears began to fade. He could faintly hear crows cawing in the distance. Lonnie thumped Jonathan on the back, praising him for his first kill. He jogged over and retrieved the rabbit, holding it by the ears.
Jonathan's stomach heaved and he almost retched. His eyes swam with tears. Lonnie extended the creature toward Jonathan and the final string holding him together snapped. Tears began to stream down his cheek and Jonathan sobbed. Lonnie had stopped in his tracks, rabbit's ears still clutched in his hand.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" he snapped.
Jonathan shook his head, unable to speak. He had murdered Thumper. His father didn't understand. His chest hurt and it was hard to breathe. Jonathan began to hyperventilate, unable to catch his breath.
"Don't take it so personally," Lonnie muttered darkly.
Lonnie grabbed the collar of Jonathan's jacket and pulled him along. Jonathan following, stumbling along behind his father. He continued to sob, big crocodile tears running down his face and neck. Lonnie released Jonathan once they reached their front porch, shoving him toward the front door. "Go on inside with your mama," he instructed, turning away from his son.
Jonathan sought comfort in his mother's arms. Joyce held him, rocking him back and forth, as he attempted to stammer out what had happened. Lonnie left and didn't return that night.
Jonathan and Will slept with Joyce in their parent's bed that night. Joyce snored and Will kicked in his sleep and Jonathan cried. In fact, Jonathan cried for a better part of the week, his eyes so red and puffy that he was sent home from school on account the faculty thought he had pink eye.
By the time Jonathan turned twelve, Joyce had kicked Lonnie out of the house for good. Well, mostly. He still showed up sometimes and Joyce, in a moment of weakness, would allow him back into the house. Things would be good for a week or two - Lonnie would act like a good husband and a decent father. Until something happened and he snapped, lashing out at Joyce or Jonathan.
Jonathan became more introverted, preferring to observe others than interact with them. It was safer that way, keeping a distance between himself and others. Less risk of getting hurt or ridiculed. When he was thirteen, he bought his camera with money he had saved up over several years doing odd jobs for neighbors and a few small business owners around Hawkins. Hawkins High School allowed Jonathan the opportunity to learn more about photography - and he found that he loved the development process. The dark room was a sanctuary of sorts for him, the warm red light bathing everything in soft shadows in stark contrast to the odor of the chemicals. More times than not, he was alone, which he desperately craved within the concrete walls of the school. The photography allowed him to capture images that revealed hidden truths and secrets; allowed him to see a person for who they really were in that moment...
Jonathan was fourteen the last time Lonnie hit him. Jonathan and Will had been visiting Lonnie at the hotel he usually stayed at outside of Hawkins after Joyce kicked him out of the house. Lonnie had been on a bender all weekend and Jonathan had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Jonathan remembered being shoved up against the wall and the sound of Will screaming at their father to stop. In that moment, before a fist collided with his temple and his world faded to black, he saw his father for who he really was, saw the person he feared becoming himself. He saw a monster.