Chapter 2: Day 9
"Dude," Chester said over the phone. "Are we ever going to get together or what?"
Timmy stared up at his room ceilings and withheld another sigh from escaping his lips as he turned over on his side. His eyes scanned the room then landed about two to three feet away from his position upon his bed.
He frowned. The clock by his bedside read one o clock. Upon seeing the time he tightens his eyes closed then slowly opened them. It was late, and he had things to do the next morning. He had to cut this short. Vicky hated it when he did chores half asleep.
"Sorry," He told his friend as he ran his fingers through his hair. As he tried to think of how to cut their conversation short. "I just can't."
The was a paused on the line then A.J, who had been listening to his two friends speak, spoke up.
"The witch?" The bald boy asked, and Timmy bitterly chuckled.
"Why else?" He said, and he heard a heavy sighed escaped his two friends. Timmy closed his eyes again and tried not to cry. Life wasn't fair. It was summer, and they could not hang out all because Vicky decided they shouldn't. Life was not fair.
"It's okay," Chester spoke up after a while, his voice sounded bitter. Timmy noted the blonde did not sound like he believed his owe words. "Maybe some other time?"
"Yeah..." A.J spoke, and Timmy sadly nodded as he answered in agreement.
"Okay," He said. They all knew the wasn't going to be a next time, not anytime soon anyways. Not until his parents returned from their so call "business" trip.
A silence fell over the three boys; it whispered of defeat and helplessness. It spoke of their status in life, of the fact that because they were children that they held no rights and no power unless given so by those older them. It was a horrible silence that they all hated.
"I hate her," Chester said after awhile.
"I know," Timmy replied.
"I wish she was-" A.J joined.
"Me too," Timmy whispered, and the three giggled at the thought, the unspoken words of what they wished to happen to Vicky hovered between them. It almost made Timmy feel better about his situation, almost.
"I got to go, guys," He said after awhile, once their laughter had ceased. His friends understanding his predicament answered.
"Good night Timmy,"
"Good night," He told them and the phone line when dead. Closing his little flip phone, because his parents thought he wasn't yet ready for a smartphone, Timmy leaned over to his bedside table. Placing his cell phone upon the table wooden surface, he leaned ever more and off his lamp switch. Once the light departed from his room, the twelve-year-old leaned back into bed and processed to sleep. He had another day of slave work awaiting him in less than six hours; he wanted to get as many zzz's as he could before then.
Of course, sleep never graced him with her presence and so less then twenty minutes later his eyes flew open. He was too restless to sleep. His angry and sadness about his life, his situation, refused to let him sleep.
Pushing his blanket off himself, he swung his legs over his bed and sat up. From outside his room, coming through his window, he noted the sounds of cats and dogs and a car or two driving down the street. It was a typical night. Frowning, he stood. Maybe a glass of warm milk could help him sleep? Maybe?
"Maybe," The boy whispered hopefully into his dark room.
The twelve-year-old, leaving his warm bed behind, quietly opened his bedroom door. When he had pushed the door opened -enough- he stepped through the open space and begun his journey down the hall, heading for the stairs.
As he when, he thought up ways on how to get past the "witch."
He knew if he just got passed Vicky's - his parents actually- bedroom that he was as good as gold.
Tipping toeing, Timmy made it to his parents' door and paused. He knew he had to be very careful. Vicky was a light sleeper. One wrong sound and she would be awake, ready to destroy whoever had awakened her. It had happened once before.
Closing his eyes Timmy listened, trying to locate the sound of Vicky snores.
Okay, that was the noise of the refrigeration down the stairs... And that was a car driving by. Now...two dogs barking. Yet... no sound of snoring. Tighten his eyes close, he concentrated. At first, he thought maybe his sitter was up reading or something. It happens. However when he did not hear the sound of paper touching flesh, he dismissed the idea. A few seconds later of rejecting the idea that Vicky was up and reading, he heard it. It was strange. It was weird. It sounded like soft moans. It sounded strange coming from the room that once belonged to his parents. Opening his eyes and a bit curious, Timmy leaned down as quietly as he could to the door keyhole and peeped into the bedroom.
What he saw both shock and confused. Shock him because he had never seen his babysitter in the position she was currently in before and confused because it made his stomach stirred in a way he did not understand. It was a very uncomfortable feeling. He did not like it.
Slowly Timmy stood up and back away from the door, his milk idea forgotten. As he headed back to his room and his bed, he tried not to remember what he had seen through the keyhole of his parents' bedroom. He tried not to remembered; Vicky spread out upon his parents' bed, naked, eyes closed, her right hand clinging her bared breast and her left hand between her legs moving back and forward. It was weird.
Once he made it into his room and bed, the young boy pulled his blanket over his head and waited for the day. He knew he was not going to sleep that night.
