Feedback: definitely.

Thanks to Myownspecialself for beta reading and giving me a pat on the back. I needed that!

Economics deals with the problem of how limited resources can best made to serve man's unlimited wants. In "An Essay on the Principle of Population," Thomas Malthus undertook to prove that human populations tend to increase more rapidly than food and other necessities. The result is a struggle in which some people succeed and become wealthy while others fail or even starve.

Go over the lesson again. Think. Next week, holidays will be over. Next week, you're going back to the boarding school. Tests. Exams. You can't fail them. You won't. You're good at it. You're a geek.

*An atom's chemical behavior is determined by its outermost shell (or, in heavier atoms, two shells) of electrons. If the outermost shell is complete, the atom is inert. All electrical faces within the atom are satisfied, and nothing is left over to make the atom interact with other atoms. Instead, atoms with incomplete outer shells seek to fill such shells in any way they can*.

Concentrate. Focus on the words. Sentences. Thoughts. So perfect. Crystalline. Safe.

According to Darwin, under the constant struggle to exist, organisms with useless variations were almost sure to die before they could have young ones. Living things with helpful variations, however, survived and reproduced. In other words, the struggle for existence selected organisms with useful variations but made others die out. Many newly developed organisms remained in their old homes, where they struggled successfully against older forms, crowding them out of existence. Other new organisms made their way into different surroundings, where they prospered and kept on changing.

Another thrust slammed him hard against the desk. Lex clenched his jaw and curled his left hand tighter around the edge, clung to it for dear life, his right wrist pulled up, twisted, pinned against his back, his body kept still by his father's weight, his cheek pressed into the desk.

Words and grunts breathed over his neck. Warm. Damp. Smell of brandy and sweat and expensive cologne.

"Are you a whimpering little girl, Lex? If you're a girl, this is what you deserve."

Don't listen. Don't cry. It will end soon. Just switch off. Close your eyes. Shut him out. Block everything out. Tear your mind away.

Ants do not build a permanent nursery for the eggs, larvae and pupae. They move them from room to room to find just the right degree of moisture and warmth. Often they take them out of doors in the sunshine. If danger threatens, they snatch up the helpless infants and rush them back into the nest. After the eggs hatch, they lick the larvae constantly. This looks like a show of affection.

The body on top of him went rigid and stirred and pulled out. The pressure eased. Lex heard sounds of clothing being rearranged, a fly being zipped.

"I'm never ever going to get a call like that from your school again, do you hear me?" Lionel warned. "You disappointed me. Your mother spoiled you. But I'll teach you to behave like a man. Like a Luthor. I don't want to hear again you've been bullied by other kids. Understood?"

Shaking, Lex tried to push himself up. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. A hand slapped the back of his head. His forehead hit the desk, sending a sharp pain all over his body.

"Are you mute?" his father asked. "Do you need another lesson?"

"N-no," Lex stammered.

"What?"

"No, dad," Lex immediately corrected.

"Well, good boy. Now I've got a meeting," Lionel said, in a business-like tone. "Think over our conversation."

Lex heard him leave the office. He lay there for a while, doubled over the desk, eyes fixed on the wall, glazed. Then, a wave of nausea hit him hard. He stood, hurriedly pulled up his boxers and pants, a hand flying to his mouth as he ran for the bathroom. He knelt in front of the bowl and gagged twice before actually vomiting his breakfast.

He hadn't expected this. He thought he could get off this time. He had begged his teacher not to call his father. He had hoped he had convinced him. And his father had deceived him. He hadn't told him anything. He had behaved as if he didn't know what happened at school. Waiting pointedly for the end of the holidays. And now he had punished him for having been systematically beaten and robbed by the older boys.

Lex placed his hands on the rim of the bowl and pushed himself back. He went to the sink, rinsed his mouth, and looked up into the mirror. It gave back to him the image of a fragile-looking fifteen-year-old boy, with haunted eyes, very pale features, bruises on his forehead and at the corner of his mouth. The perfect picture for a campaign against child abuse, like the one his father endowed for tax-allowance and public-image reasons. Thinking of that, he willed his lips to shape into a trembling, sarcastic smirk.

It wasn't the first time, and he knew it wouldn't be the last. There wasn't much he could do to protect himself. Except trying not to give him an excuse to exercise his power over him.

Staying detached. Taking his mind off.

When he was nine years old, Napoleon Bonaparte was sent by his father to a French government military school. A sensitive, lonely boy, Napoleon was constantly bullied by his fellow students, who resented his gloomy, melancholy ways. Their cruelties, however, only made him withdraw into dreams of personal glory and military triumphs.

Away. Elsewhere, in an abstract world, out of your father's reach. Out of your schoolmates' reach.

Just survive. Learn your lessons.

And wait.