Hey guys! I'm so excited because this is my new multichapter that I am determined to finish! I know I've said that before but I was young and inexperienced and now I'm older I hope that my writing is more mature and I can create stories with a real plot that has some depth. I would hope that is the case at least. I will try to update as regularly as I can but I don't know as of yet now often that will be. I am taking my time with this to ensure the best quality work so I hope you'll wait for me and eventually it will be complete.
WARNING: I have to make it clear that this deals with strong themes of abuse throughout. Even though there may not be much of it in this prologue, there will be many violent scenes to come in later chapters. If this could be triggering for you or hurt you in any way please do not read. I do not want to cause any harm.
Although Winnie the Pooh and the Power Rangers are mentioned, I do not own them. If I did it would mean me having to go back in time and change my date of birth.
Very sadly I also do not own Big Time Rush. I have sent the contracts to them but I don't think they have gotten there...must be the postman... ;)
A hiss broke out as the drops of antiseptic drizzled into the cut, glazing it with transparent liquid and hopefully enabling a quicker healing process than the last had, considering it had been reopened the very next day by another lashing. All of them had scars covering their body, scars that wouldn't go away no matter how much they wanted them to. Another hiss and words of comfort were added to the thick silence that had filled the room as one worked to clean up the visible markings as best as he could.
"It's ok, just a little more and we can go and read that story with Logie, yeah?" a chestnut 17-year-old whispered apologetically, knowing that this had to be done but always wincing along with the boy in front of him for causing this added pain to the obviously painful gash.
"Ok...but can I have a Power Rangers band aid?" dark, almost black orbs stared up at him pleadingly and anyone, even James himself could not resist that puppy dog look that Carlos so dearly loved to use for his own gain. Usually, it worked every time.
The elder chuckled slightly, though it was slightly hoarse from the yelling he hadn't been able to suppress earlier in the kitchen. He had already patched the youngest of the three up; luckily the littlest hadn't received the worst of it today. He would have to look at his wounds as soon as the other two were in bed and asleep like he usually did. He didn't like them to see him get hurt and tried to keep all of it from them as much as he could. Of course, there were times when that simply didn't work, but he could try.
"Sure buddy, the red ranger, right?" he asked, although he knew off by heart that Carlos would never appreciate anything other than a red ranger band aid, unless they had the ones with all of the team on them. He would practically scream in pure joy if they had those in the house and James would have to gently remind him that they couldn't be too loud. They never could.
Once the band aid was firmly in place, James cleared up the medical supplies and put them back into their respective slots in the small handheld first aid kit that he had thought to acquire many years back. It had been a very useful purchase over the time he had lived – there both with and without his brothers – and he more often than not had to replenish it every few weeks when the stocks got low.
James had grown into quite the medic. At first the only thing he knew about any sort of medical attention was grazes and bumps. It was limited and didn't help him much in the first few years that this had been going on.
But over time, he had read up, both online and in books about the different types of injuries and how to best take care of them. Soon after, he had purchased said first aid kit with the little savings he had and never looked back. He may have gotten some things wrong at first, but now he knew everything from bandages to CPR.
It was not a nice feeling when you knew that the latter may be necessary in their household.
When he was done, he took Carlos in hand and led the 9-year-old out of his bedroom and into the one that the other two shared. Their bedrooms were seemingly their safe sanctuary as it were. Their father never came up here. Instead, he would crash out on the couch before he could even think to venture upstairs.
James was at least glad about that. He couldn't imagine how much worse their situation would be if they had to endure more torture when they thought they were safe.
Entering the room directly opposite his, he smiled as he saw a small brown-haired boy sitting on a bed covered in Winnie the Pooh covers, sucking his thumb. It was a habit that James had bit yet been able to get rid of as of yet. He expected that it was a stress reliever and a comfort of sort, which meant that he supposed he didn't mind so much if it meant the little one felt safe whilst doing so.
In the arm not raised to his mouth, he held his very own Winnie the Pooh, though the bear was in unmistakeable bad condition compared to the pristine fellow on the television. This Winnie the Pooh was missing its left ear, having been chewed off when Logan was teething. He was also half an arm short, after being snatched and thrown into the path of a lawn mower when Logan was 2. James had only just gotten to the bear in time and saved it from their enraged father who, that time, had told the toddler to grow up and stop hugging dolls.
That evening after Logan had cried himself to sleep, James had sat up with his late mother's sewing box, looked up a YouTube video online and had stitched into the early hours of the morning.
By the time his brother had woken up, Winnie the Pooh's severed arm had been tied off halfway up to his shoulder, and although it made the toy look slightly unbalanced, Logan couldn't have thanked James enough. As well as having dealt with the arm, James had personalised the bear and stitched in the four-year-old's name onto the red t-shirt that the bear was famous for wearing. Nevertheless, Logan was chuffed.
Carlos bounded up to his younger brother and climbed onto the bed, looking at the book that Logan had chosen for that night. Nodding his approval, he got himself sat comfortably on the bed and patted the spot next to him, indicating for James to settle in-between the two. James took the story and smiled as he felt two little bodies curl up beside him.
This was how it should be. Not having to worry about anything. No fears or anything to be afraid of. Or anyone. Just relaxed and happy, in their own world where nothing could get to them. It seemed nice when this happened.
For only a sleep away they would have to face the music. Face their cruel and unforgiving lives. It didn't matter that they were out of the door to school after only slightly more than an hour of being awake, because to them that felt like a lifetime.
It wasn't how James wanted his little brothers to grow up at all.
When he pictured a family at breakfast, he saw everyone smiling and greeting each other. Logan would run up and hug their mother, who wouldn't have passed away so tragically. She would pick him up and tickle his sides whilst asking him how he slept and of course not forgetting to ask him if Winnie the Pooh slept well too.
Carlos meanwhile would automatically run over to see what was cooking, most likely bacon or eggs or even pancakes. His father, reading the daily newspaper, would chuckle lightly and comment how Carlos had eyes bigger than his stomach or something like that, reaching over to ruffle the lad's hair and pull him in for a gentle noogie.
James would enter laughing and go over to hug his father after Carlos had been let go. He would be enthusiastic about asking him what time his ice hockey game was that afternoon so he wouldn't miss it. Instead of making sure that James wouldn't set foot into the ice rink, let alone let him play hockey, he would support James' talent for the sport with open arms, like every good parent. His mother would tell him to be careful whilst laying out the heaping plates of breakfast on the table and they would eat and converse until they had to finish getting ready and go to school.
Instead, the next morning they were sure to be woken up by the crashing downstairs as their father woke up still under the influence of whatever he had drank or taken the night before. He may be a bit more sober, but his balance would be off and he'd be cranky because of it. They would descend the stairs quietly, even Carlos, as to not anger him any more than he already was and enter the kitchen without saying anything.
Their father would be sitting at the breakfast table, in last night's clothes (which would most likely be stained) and once he acknowledged their presence, he would scowl and mutter expletives under his breath until he could muster up the effort to haul his aged body onto its feet and drag James over to the cooker, wanting his breakfast made for him.
James would start cooking one and only one portion, all the while trying to keep an eye on what their father did to his younger brothers. Any move, each flinch and every breath he would criticise and try to second guess what would come next. He would protect them as much as he could, put his life on the line for them if it came to it, but sometimes he just couldn't get there in time. There were also those times when protecting them may even get them hurt more. You could never know with their father.
Carlos would go straight to the table, sitting down and looking at the floor, not daring to avert his eyes to any other point in the room. He longed to be able to watch how James cooked the food, yet he would be accused of loitering and being in the way by their father. Their father hated people getting in the way of him and Carlos knew he could get as many as twenty lashes with the brass-buckled belt if he did. So, extremely unlike his character anywhere away from the man, he remained silent and invisible.
Logan would at first cower behind his brothers upon entering the kitchen. But when his two brothers went their separate ways, he would force his legs up to their father and wait to be spoken to. He too would keep his gaze fixated on the tiles below. Finally, his father would smirk up at him, watching the boy tremble, before making him recite the rules put in place for the entire household. One by one, Logan would repeat what his father had told them years ago, also announcing the consequences for each rule if they were to not abide.
The psychological torture from the words spilling out of his mouth would torture them all and Logan would finish nearly in tears each time.
When their father had finished, after deciding if James' cooking that day was satisfactory and didn't deserve a beating, they would hurry back upstairs having not uttered anything apart from Logan and the rules.
Congregating in Carlos and Logan's room – since James would help them to get ready first before he himself did – James would produce from his pockets whatever food items he had managed to grab whilst cooking the breakfast. It may be slightly fluffy from the material of his pyjama pants, but they would all wolf it down anyway because they didn't know when they would next get to eat. A bit of fluffiness would never put them off something others take for granted.
The horrors would only stop briefly once at school. James would drop his younger brothers off at their classes. Carlos would go in first, as he was in a higher grade and those classrooms were closer to the gates. For a time, the 9-year-old would forget all of his troubles and once he saw his classroom, would gallop off in front of the other two.
It was a moment of pure happiness and James would gently pull Logan over to the classroom so he could greet Carlos' teacher. Carlos would wave and shout his goodbye before running into the classroom to be with his friends. James wished that they had a normal life, because then Carlos would be able to invite his friends to dinner and continue his friendships outside of school.
The bubbly brother was always able to make friends easily and able to keep them for a long time. He was just a people person. Everyone he met seemed to like him and James knew that he had a fair bunch of friends to choose from if he ever did want to invite someone round if their father magically were to up and leave.
If they were to try that now, goodness knows what would happen.
The boys would then continue on their way towards the younger section of the school. Logan's preschool classroom came into view and James would mentally give out a massive sigh. Usually, Logan would put up a bit of a fight about going into said classroom. James figured it was because he was nervous about leaving him and also of the other children in the class.
Logan was a naturally shy person. He was always very quiet and only really spoke if asked something. He didn't like playing with anyone else other than his brothers and preferred to talk to his toys rather than youngsters his own age. Otherwise, he preferred to use small gestures to communicate, but generally he just went along with everyone else.
This shyness also meant that, to date, the small boy hadn't made any friends. James knew for a fact that the trauma of their home life had made Logan wary of others and unwilling to start up any sort of relationship with them. At such a young age, apart from his brothers, Logan didn't know that there could be good people in the world.
The telltale signs of Logan's reluctance to leave James and go into his classroom for the day would start when he would inch himself impossibly closer to James, almost shrinking into his side like it would camouflage him.
Both of his tiny arms would then wrap themselves around James' larger one and he would begin to make little sounds, whining and trying his very best to pull James back and make his oldest brother take him anywhere else but there. Of course James would probably end up having to pick the boy up in his arms and physically take him there himself.
On bad mornings, Logan would then resort to crying because of how badly he didn't want to be there and it would take a further 15 minutes for both him and the preschool teacher to calm the 4-year-old down enough to be able to get him to slowly let go of James and return to his own two feet.
Logan would still whine when James stepped back, ready to leave, but the teacher would eventually convince him to stay with the mention of a few stories or something like that. James would then walk out of the elementary; waving behind him every so often because he knew Logan would stay there at the door watching until he was out of sight.
Then he would finally head off to his own school, most likely being late for homeroom...again.
And that was only the morning. After picking the boys up from school later that afternoon, their hell would start once again.
James sighed as he closed the book, gently smiling as he felt the warmth of his little brothers leaning up against his sides. Carlos blinked his droopy eyes slowly, taking a while to comprehend that the story was over and that it was time to go to bed.
Usually, James would put Logan to bed an hour and a half earlier than Carlos, but as today had been a bad beating for all of them, he had made some exceptions. He figured they all had needed some together time tonight.
As Carlos clumsily raised himself from his little brother's bed, James looked down at his other side to find Logan already fast asleep, having nodded off halfway through the story. James whispered for Carlos to get into bed as he lifted his littlest brother up and carefully laid him back down under the covers. He made sure his favourite cuddly bear was next to him before tucking him in and kissing his head softly.
Making his way over to Carlos, he found the 9-year-old putting away the book they had just read. James held the covers open, letting Carlos jump in with a flying leap and bouncing lightly as he landed on his stomach in his own Power Rangers-themed bed. James chuckled to himself as he pulled the covers over Carlos, tucking in the edges.
"James?" Carlos questioned quietly, an unusual expression of deep thought upon his face.
"Yeah, buddy?" James replied, sitting on the edge of the bed, next to Carlos' small legs.
"Do you think we will ever have a happy family like that? You know, like the one in the story?"
James hesitated as he looked into the big puppy dog eyes that both Carlos and Logan possessed. How could he tell his 9-year-old brother that as long as they lived here, with their father, that the notion of a happy family was pretty much an unrealistic dream? It would never happen under this roof with their father.
Maybe when James turned 18 next year, he could try and get a job and then find a small place of his own. He could then report his father for the years of abuse they had all endured and because he would legally be an adult, he could take custody of his little brothers. Maybe then they could be a happy little family like in that book.
The reason James had to stay was because if he reported his father to the authorities now, they would most likely be taken into the foster system, where it was very possible that the three would be split up and never see each other again. James didn't want that. He knew all of them wouldn't be able to survive without one another.
So for now, they had to sit tight and wait for another horror-filled year before they might finally be able to start anew and be the happy family they wanted to.
"Carlos..." James started, trying to figure out what to say. He didn't want to disappoint the boy but he didn't want to massively sugar coat it as well. "Someday, we will be a happy family. Just you, me and Logie. And we'll have a real fun time together and never get hurt again. But it isn't going to happen right now. We have to wait a bit more, just until I'm 18 and can look after you guys on my own properly, ok?"
"But you already look after us on your own really well."
James smiled and rubbed the leg closest to him comfortingly. "I'm glad you think so, buddy, but at the moment the state doesn't care if I do a good job, I'm just not old enough to be allowed to on my own yet. But like I said, one more year. Think you can wait a bit more?"
Carlos nodded eagerly and held his arms out for a hug. James leaned in and wrapped his own around his brother, kissing his forehead and whispering a soft "goodnight." Carlos murmured his reply, already drifting off into the land of dreams.
James silently made his way back to the bedroom door, making sure that Logan's nightlight was on before slowly exiting and leaving the door ajar behind him, just in case one of the two had a nightmare, meaning he would be able to hear something was wrong. Also, he knew that the light in the hallway tended to calm them down some if they woke up scared.
When James went into his own room and sat down on his own bed, he finally let a few merciless tears fall from the blockade. All day he put on a brave face for his little brothers, reassuring them that things would be ok and trying to make their lives as happy as could be with current circumstances.
But when James was on his own he could finally let the mask slip and succumb to his emotions that he fought so valiantly to hide.
He knew he shouldn't, but he couldn't help but partly blame himself for all the hurt they endured. If he were stronger he could protect Carlos and Logan better and make sure they never got hurt by their father in the first place. He would be able to fend him off whenever he came in to attack.
Instead, they would all have scars and marks for life because he couldn't get his stupid ass in gear and protect the ones he loved.
Sighing to himself, he reached to the bedside table where the first aid kit had been left earlier. He began to open the red box and grabbed some supplies before pulling off his t-shirt to view the damage.
At least ten long lashes lay upon his chest, marks from the buckle having been torn into his precious golden skin. They stung with great vengeance as he wiped the antiseptic into the cuts, much like he did earlier with Carlos. That was the bad thing about the injuries they sustained. Even though the beating would have finished, they still hurt for a long time after, constantly reminding you they were there.
And as he himself hissed at the discomfort, he cried quietly for all the sorrow that he felt. For how bad life had become. For all of his dreams for himself and for his brothers that would never come true as far as he could see. For all of the pain. For all of the sadness.
"I wish I knew where you were" he whispered absentmindedly, changing into his pyjamas and climbing into bed.
He looked longingly at the starry night outside of the window, the way they twinkled with happiness and freedom. How he wanted that.
"We need you, Kendall."
James closed his eyes and let the last of his tears fall past his lashes. He let his breathing slow and fell into an uncomfortable slumber.
I hope you enjoyed it! Reviews are like freshly baked fluffy cookies. I can't get enough. Please comment and tell me what you think and if I should continue.
Thank you,
~swagUPwindowsDOWN :) x