EmpathyfortheDevil: I'm so glad you enjoyed the first two chapters! I hope you continue to enjoy the story! Thanks for the review!
Hey, guys! I am so, so sorry I haven't updated since December! A lot has happened, but let's just say I am finished with my third semester of nursing school! Three down, one to go! I finished with all A's, so hopefully ya'll can forgive me for a lack of updates. Anyways, I'm working on getting a job at a children's hospital, but I'm hoping I can update a lot over the summer. My issue is that I have so many partially written things for this story, but cannot for the life of me actually finish one and decide what to upload. Hopefully I can get over this and update more frequently for me. If there's something in particular you'd like to read about, just leave a review for me and I'll make that a priority over anything else I have written. Anyway, I don't have much else to say so I'll stop talking and let you read. See you in the next chapter!
Childhood should be carefree, playing in the sun; not living a nightmare in the darkness of the soul. - Dave Pelzer
Al and me have been in foster care for a week. We got to go home yesterday. She's gone. She got arrested last Friday. Al told Winry everything that had been going on since before Dada got married to her. We have a social worker now. Her name's Mrs. Davis and she has soft skin, a nice voice, and smells good. She's nice but she made us go to foster care. Bad stuff happened in the first house we stayed in. The family was mean and they had a lot of rules. Annie was nice, though. But everything is confusing now. Annie's rules are different from the Porters' rules and I don't know what Dada's rules are. After Mrs. Davis dropped us off at home, Dad didn't go over rules. I don't know what he wants. All we did yesterday was unpack. Nobody really said anything. I gave Dada a big hug but I didn't know what to say to him. I still don't know. It's Saturday. It's almost lunch time. I couldn't eat breakfast. Dada tries to talk to me but I don't have any words. Al's still sleeping. I'm kinda worried. Is sleeping late okay? I don't know. I don't know Dada's rules. I'm scared. I don't want to be a bad boy. I don't want to break any rules. But how can I not break rules if I don't know what they are? I'm in the living room with Dada. I'm worried about Al. The TV's off. Dada's reading. I'm just sitting here. I'm worried. I look over at Dada. He checks his watch and stands up. My heart beats funny. I'm scared. Where is he going?
"Wh-Where are you going?" I ask. I'm scared. I don't wanna be alone. It's hard to breathe. Dad looks at me.
"I figured I should go check on Al," Dada says. "He's been sleeping a while. I'm a little concerned." I nod.
"I'm worried," I tell him. "Can I go, too?" Dad blinks and smiles at me.
"Of course," he replies. "Happy to have you." Without thinking I put my hands up in the air. I want Dada to pick me up and hold me. I want him to. But I'm embarrassed. I'm thirteen now. I shouldn't want Dada to carry me. Should I? I don't know. I blush and lower my arms. I can't look at Dada now. He wouldn't want to cuddle a bad boy like me.
"Ed, do you want me to pick you up?" Dada asks me. I'm embarrassed but I nod. I feel Dada touch me so I tense up. Am I in trouble? I'm scared. What's he gonna do? I feel him lift me up and he puts me on his hip. He's holding me like he did when I was little. It makes me feel a little safe. I sigh and rest my head on his shoulder. He pats my back and I feel safe for the first time in a couple days.
"Thanks, Daddy," I whisper softly.
"No problem, little man," Dada says, using my special nick name. Mom's nick name. Dada carries me up the stairs. We go to my room and Dada knocks on the door. Al doesn't say anything so Dada opens the door. I gasp. Al's in the middle of the room, shaking. He's soaking wet, standing on a drenched part of the carpet. He's sucking his thumb, whimpering as we get closer.
"Alphonse," Dada addresses softly. "Al, what's the matter? Are you okay, sweetie?" Al whimpers and I squirm.
"Dada, what's wrong with Al?" I ask. I'm scared. Why is he just standing there? Why won't he say anything? What's wrong with him?
"I'm not sure," Dada replies. "Al, it's okay, sweetie. I'm not angry with you. It looks like you had an accident. Did you have a bad dream?" Al shakes his head, tears running down his face. "What happened?"
"I-I…." Al whimpers. "I had t-to go potty a-an' g-got sc-scared. I'm n-not s-supposed to l-leave the r-room until sh-she tells me to. I-I'm s-sorry." Dada shakes his head.
"Oh, sweetie," Dada sighs. "Honey, you can leave your room to go potty. She doesn't live here anymore. Her rules weren't fair and don't matter anymore. If you need to go potty, you can go, okay?" Al nods and starts crying harder, hiding his face with his arm. Dada squats down and pats Al's back. I pat his head and say,
"It's okay, Alphie," I comfort.
"Al, why don't we get cleaned up?" Dada suggests. "You can wear jammies all day if you want but I think we need to get out of these wet ones. What do you think?" Al nods. I fidget. I wanna help. I take care of Al. I always do.
"Brother?" Dada asks, calling me my other special nickname, "Do you want to pick out some nice, warm jammies for Al?" I nod. I hurry to the dresser and pull out Al's favorite pair of pajamas – his pair of footie pajamas with cats on them. I grab some underwear for him and hurry over, handing the clothes to Dada. He smiles at me and pats my head, taking the clothes.
"Thank you," he says. "Okay, Al, Brother brought your favorite jammies. I'm going to run downstairs and grab something to clean up the carpet. Why don't you get dressed while I'm downstairs?" Al just stares at him and Dada leaves. Al stares at the clothes but doesn't do anything. He's just sucking his thumb. What's wrong with him? I get closer and say,
"Al, you gotta get dressed. Dada might get mad if you don't! We don't know what his rules are! You gotta listen to him!" Al looks over at me and grabs the pajamas. He just holds them. I'm getting scared. Why won't he listen to Dada! We might get in trouble! "Al, you gotta get dressed! C'mon!" I'm practically begging. I don't wanna get in trouble the first day we're home! He might put us back in foster care! Dada comes back in and I turn around.
"Al didn't listen! I tried to get him to get dressed but he didn't listen!" I cry. Al whimpers and starts crying loudly, Dada patting my head.
"It's all right, Ed," he tells me. "Al's having a bad day and needs some help. It's okay, I'll help him." I nod, Al crying loudly like a little baby. Dada walks over to him and squats down. He puts a hand on Al's head and softly says, "Alphonse, it's okay sweetie. I'm right here. I'll help you get dressed, okay?" Al is still crying and shakes his head. "Honey, you can't stay in these wet clothes. It won't take long at all. You can suck your thumb when it's all done if that's what you're worried about." Al nods and Dada helps him get dressed. Dada zips the pajamas and Al demands to be held. I fidget nervously. Are we allowed to do that? I don't know. Is Al in trouble 'cause he peed everywhere? I don't know that, either. I don't know what the rules are. I'm scared. Dada picks Al up and cleans the carpet. He walks over to me and takes my hand.
"Let's eat lunch, boys," Dada says. I shake my head.
"We can't," I tell him. "B-Bad boys d-don't eat lunch." Dad's brow furrows.
"You aren't bad boys," Dada replies. "Are you hungry?" I shake my head. I'm not hungry. I don't eat much anymore. At Annie's, I ate but I never finished my food. She never got mad. Will Dada? I don't know. I don't know the rules. I don't know what Dada wants. We go downstairs and go to the living room. Dada sits down on the couch and I sit next to him. Al's on his lap. He's shaking. He's sucking his thumb. I'm so scared. I don't know what's bad and what's good. I don't know what his rules are. Can I ask? I don't know if I can ask. Bad boys shouldn't talk. Bad boys don't tell people what they want or need. Bad boys cry because they know they've been bad. That's what she says. I'm scared of her coming back.
"Boys," Dada says softly, "We have soup. Want me to make soup? That's easy on the tummy, right? Annie told me that you've had tummy issues and haven't had much of an appetite." I swallow and shake my head.
"I-I… we can't," I insist. Dada lifts Al off his lap and puts him on the couch.
"I'll make some anyway," Daddy says. "If you decide you can eat, it'll be there for you, okay?" I nod and Dada leaves. Al crawls up into my lap. He's sucking his thumb. He's shaking. He's scared. We don't know the rules. I'm scared if we break a rule we don't know about that Dada will send us away. I'm scared Dada's mad 'cause I told him I wanted to stay at Annie's and that I love her. I felt safe at her house. I don't feel safe here. She hurt me here. She hurt Al here. This house is where I got hurt. All the memories are in my head. They won't go away. We're not safe here. Al whimpers. He feels warm and sweaty. He shivers and gets closer to me. I can hear him sucking his thumb. The sound is soft and constant. It makes me feel a little better. I wonder if Al feels sick.
"Al? Are you okay?" I ask him. Al shakes his head.
"I don't feel good," he replies in a whisper. He lurches forward and throws up all over me. He coughs and gags, throwing up again. I pat his back, Al throwing up a third time. He finishes, crying a little.
"It's okay," I comfort. "It's okay. Do you have throw up on you?" Al nods and Dada is back.
"Oh, my gosh, what happened?" He asks. I freeze up. Are we in trouble? I whimper and shake my head.
"He's sorry," I say. "He's sorry! He didn't mean to!"
"Ed, I know that," Dada says but I don't believe him.
"Don't be mad at him!" I cry. "He doesn't feel good! It's not his fault!"
"He's not in trouble," Daddy tells me and I shake my head.
"You're a liar!" I yell. Why am I yelling at Dada? Won't that just get me in more trouble? "You're lying! You'll just tell her and we'll get in trouble! You always do! You hate us! I gotta take care of Al 'cause you hate us! I hate you!" I stand up and carry Al upstairs. I'll change him. Why did I yell at Dada? I probably just got us in lots of trouble! I shake my head. I can't think about that. I gotta take care of Al. I always gotta. I do more daddy things with Al than Daddy does. I carry Al to our room. I help him change into new jammies. He says with his eyes he wants to take a nap.
"You gotta wear a Pull-Up, then," I tell him. "You've already gone pee everywhere. If you do that again, I bet Dada's gonna get mad." Al's lip trembles and he nods. He puts one on and gets dressed again. Al crawls into his bed and I get in with him. I gotta stay with Al. I gotta try to keep him safe. Al cuddles up next to me.
"I love you," I tell him. Al nods.
"Love you, too," Al whispers, shutting his eyes. We didn't sleep good last night. I bet Dada's mad at us for that, too. She always was. I'm still tired. I decide to nap, too. I gotta stay with Al anyways. I shut my eyes and fall asleep.
I quickly sit up, breathing heavily. I had a bad dream. My heart is racing. I want Daddy. But I still think he's mad at me. I bet he is. I've been a bad boy. I was bad at the Porters' and at Annie's and I kept Dada up all night last night. But I'm scared. I want him to hold me and make me feel better. I tense up. Uh-oh. I gotta go potty. I gotta pee. I gotta go now. I grab my leg. I'm shaking. I'm whimpering. I gotta make it. If I don't, I'll be in trouble. I don't know what's gonna happen to me if I get in trouble. I put my leg on and stand up. My whole body's shaking. I can't have an accident. I'll get in trouble! I have to go so bad! What am I gonna do!? I make it into the hallway and start crying. I can't hold it! My socks are wet. I'm soaked. What am I gonna do!? Dada's gonna be so mad at me! I was such a bad boy! I'm crying harder. I gotta hide! I run to the bathroom and shut the door. I cry and look at myself in the mirror. I know what I gotta do now. I don't want to. I didn't mean to! It was an accident! But that never matters. I gotta do it.
"I-I'm a bad boy," I cry, someone knocking on the door. I freeze. Oh, no!
"Edward?" That's Dada! He's found me! I'm gonna get in trouble! "Edward, sweetie, are you okay? What happened?" I keep crying. He's gonna give me and Al away! We're too bad!
"I'm s-sorry!" I wail. "I d-didn't mean t-to! P-Please don't g-give us up!"
"Give you up?" Dada asks. "I would never give you up. I'm not angry, sweetie. Just tell me what happened, okay?" I'm sobbing. I guess I gotta tell him.
"I-I had a bad dream," I cry, my chest hurting. "I had to g-go p-potty an' t-tried to make it but I c-couldn't! I'm sorry! Don't spray me with the hose! Don't lock me in the basement! Please! I'll be good!"
"Oh, Edward," Dada sighs. "Honey, you're not in trouble. I know it was an accident. Are you scared of getting in trouble?"
"Y-Yeah," I sob. "I don't know your rules! I don't wanna be a bad boy!"
"Okay, okay," Dada says gently. "Why don't I talk to you and Al about the rules when Al gets up? Until then, I promise you aren't in trouble. I'm not mad at you. I want to help. Can you let Dada help you?" I nod and open the door. I love Dada. I love him so much. I want him to love me. I want to feel safe in his house. Dada smiles at me and I shake my head. I hurry over to him and he gives me a big hug.
"I'm s-sorry!" I cry, Dada patting my back.
"Oh, little man, it's okay," Dada comforts, holding me close. "It's okay. You didn't do anything wrong. It's okay." I can't stop crying. Dada carries me to my room. He helps me change my clothes. Al wakes up. Dada comforts me 'cause I can't stop crying. We go downstairs. Dada cuddles us both. After a while, I stop crying. I'm still scared. I'm not safe. I don't know what the rules are. Dada promised to tell me. I squirm on his lap. Is he gonna tell us the rules?
"Are you feeling better now, Ed?" Dada asks me. I nod.
"Y-Yeah," I say softly.
"Okay, then let's talk about the rules," Dada says. I see Al stiffen up. My heart is beating funny. What are the rules gonna be? "I want you both to know that it is very difficult to make me mad, okay? I'll punish you if you behave badly, but I'm not going to punish you for making mistakes, having accidents, or crying. You are allowed to cry, cuddle, carry your stuffed toys, be afraid, and shut down as much as you need to. You both have been through so much. I'm not going to get mad at you and punish you for processing everything." I'm sweating again. I still don't know what's good and bad! I still don't know what Dada wants!
"B-But what are the r-rules?!" I ask frantically. It's getting hard to breathe! What are Dada's rules?
"You want specific rules?" Dada asks. Al and I nod.
"Br-Breaking r-rules gets bad boys in tr-trouble," I tell him, wheezing. My heart is beating in my ears. She always said breaking rules gets bad boys in trouble. That's why we were always in trouble. We were always breaking rules. We need to know what Dada's rules are so we don't get in trouble.
"Okay, okay," Dada says. He sounds calm. He hums and says, "Okay, here are some rules. No fighting or lying. Go to bed on time and do your homework. No foul language. Um…." Dada trails off. I think he doesn't even know what his rules are. That's confusing. How can I know what the rules are when Dada doesn't?!
"Wh-What about peeing in bed?" I ask miserably. "That's against the rules, right?"
"Honey, no," Dada assures me. "That's okay because it's an accident. You don't do it on purpose."
"B-But bad b-boys pee in their beds," I whimper.
"No, Ed, that's not true," Dad tells me. "She lied to you when she said that. Wetting the bed is something lots of kids go through. It's normal and it's not bad. I know it's embarrassing but it's not a bad thing. You are not a bad boy. You are a very kind, smart, gentle boy. You are a silly boy with a great laugh who cares about his little brother. You are a very good boy."
"Al, too?" I ask
"Al, too," Dada confirms. "You are both such good boys."
"B-But you d-don't even know your own rules!" I cry. "I don't know what you want!"
"Edward, listen to me," Dada says. "I want you to continue being who you are. I want you to keep working through what happened to you and be nice to myself and Alphonse. Keep telling the truth and I'll keep thinking about what the rules are, okay? Maybe I'll talk to Annie. Did you like her rules? Did they make you feel safe?" I nod.
"Her house is safe," I tell him. Dada nods and kisses my hair.
"Okay," he replies. Al sighs and closes his eyes. We sit with Dada until dinner time and just like lunch I can't eat anything.
Dada tucks me and Al in at the same time. I have a later bedtime than Al usually, but I wanted to go to bed with him. Dada reads us Al's favorite book, The Velveteen Rabbit, and kisses us both. We're in our own beds. I can hear Al whimpering. He's scared. I decide to sleep with him tonight. He needs me. I take care of Al. I always do. Sometimes, I feel like I'm more like a daddy for Al than a brother. It's weird. But I know lots about Al. Like, I know what sandwiches he likes the best. It's peanut butter with banana in the middle. Dada doesn't know that. I know Al's favorite drinks. His first favorite is milk and his second favorite is hot chocolate with marshmallows. Dada doesn't know that, but I do. Al's favorite color is light blue and his favorite show is Avatar: The Last Airbender. I don't know if Dada knows those things, but I do. Al's favorite candy are Crunch bars and he's still losing teeth. I think Dada knows that. I know how to calm Al down and make him feel better when he's scared better than Dad can. It's 'cause he's never here. That's why he doesn't know as much about Al as I do. That's why I gotta take care of him. Al falls asleep curled up next to me. He's tiny and warm and I gotta keep him safe. We don't know the rules of Dada's house for real so I gotta keep him safe. I shut my eyes, bad memories rising up in me as I start to fall asleep.
Someone's screaming. It's scary. I sit up and turn the light on next to my bed. Al is screaming. He's scared. I watch him. He's kicking and screaming really loud. The bed is wet. Al's in a Pull-Up. It must have leaked. That happens sometimes. I get out of bed. I need to take care of him. He's not kicking anymore. I need to help. I gotta help. Al needs me. He's crying. He's scared. I get closer and I watch him some more.
"Al?" I ask softly. "I'm right here. It's okay." Al looks over at me. He can barely breathe he's crying so bad.
"I-I w-was bad," he sobs.
"You're not a bad boy, Al," I tell him. Al's not a bad boy. I might be, but he's not. Al's a good boy. He always has been. That's why I gotta take care of him and keep him safe. I couldn't always do that. She's stronger than me and hurt him a lot. "You had a bad dream, right?" Al nods. He's crying so hard.
"Boys?" Dada asks, coming in. "Is everything okay? I heard crying."
"Daddy," I say quickly, "Sorry! Al had a bad dream! The bed got wet even though he's in a Pull-Up. He didn't mean it, really! I'm trying to calm him down. I'll take care of him an' get him all cleaned up."
"Ed, you don't have to do that," Dada says. I shake my head.
"Yeah-huh," I insist. "I'm more like Al's daddy than you are sometimes." I blink, Dada's face looking really sad. Did I hurt his feelings? I shift on my feet and say, "I'm sorry. What did I say?"
"Nothing, Ed," Dada says. He squats down and says, "You are such a good big brother and I'm very proud of you. You do such a good job taking care of Al and I am so grateful you two have each other. But, Ed, I'm Al's daddy, right?" I nod.
"Yeah," I answer.
"So, there are things that I should do with Al and things you do with Al," Dada explains. My brow furrows. What things can Dada do with Al that I can't?
"What?" I ask.
"I mean that I am going to do daddy things with Al now," Daddy tells me. "I'll help him get cleaned up and change his sheets and help him with homework. I'll do daddy things and you do brother things. Does that make sense?" I shake my head.
"But I take care of Al," I protest. "That's my job!"
"Ed, you can still help Al and make him feel better but I'll do daddy things with him now," Dada says. I shake my head and Dad tells me, "Sweetie, you never should have had to do those things with Al to begin with. That was forced on you and it wasn't fair. You don't have to take care of Al that way anymore. Now you can just be Al's awesome big brother. I think that's a much better job for you. What do you think?" I shake my head.
"B-But I love him," I cry. "I wanna help him. He's my best brother friend."
"I know, sweet boy," Dada says, petting my hair. "But if I do daddy things with him, it'll be easier for you to be his best brother friend. You can play with him and make him laugh and hang out with him in ways I can't. I think that's pretty neat, huh?" I nod. I guess that's kinda cool. It's like my own job. And if I can still help him with stuff, that can be my new job.
"Can I still help sometimes?" I ask.
"Of course you can," Dada tells me. "I like when you help. You're a good helper."
"Then that can be my job," I answer. Dada smiles and I look over at Al. He's still crying. He's got Chico under his arm. He's shaking. I bet he's cold.
"Daddy," Al cries. "I'm s-sorry!"
"Al, you didn't do anything wrong," Daddy says gently. "Come here, sweetie. I'll make you feel better and get you cleaned up." Al nods and puts his thumb in his mouth. I watch Al crawl over and Dada picks him up.
"Dada, Al's scared," I tell him.
"I know," Dada replies.
"I am, too," I admit.
"Do you want to know a secret?" Dada whispers. I blink but nod.
"O-Okay," I say.
"I'm scared, too," Dada says. "I think we all are. We can talk about what's scary when you feel ready."
"Can we also give lots of hugs?" I ask. Hugs make me feel better. Hugs make me feel safe.
"Of course we can, sweet boy," Dada says. "We can give lots and lots of hugs." I give Dada a hug and Al's not crying anymore. He's sucking his thumb.
"Can we sleep in your bed, Daddy?" I ask. Dada nods.
"Yes," he replies. "Let me get Al cleaned up. Why don't you try to potty and I'll meet you in my room with Al?" I nod. I grab Lamby and my blankie. I hurry to the bathroom and use it. When I'm done I go to Dada's room. I crawl up into his big bed, waiting for him and Al. They come in and Dada gently puts Al next to me. He curls up next to me, Dada on his other side. I exhale, feeling the safest I've felt since leaving Annie's house. I close my eyes, Dada keeping those bad memories away for a little while.
It's Monday. I'm not going to school today. I don't know if I'll be back this year or not. It's over in two weeks so what's the point? Dada canceled his classes today. He can't do that tomorrow, he says. Teacher will come over tomorrow. I'm still in bed. Al's next to me. I don't think he's sleeping. Al's been weird since we got home. He talked at Annie's house and talked on a little Saturday but didn't talk at all yesterday. He was sleeping and when he wasn't sleeping, he was just lying in bed, wide awake. I'm scared something's wrong with him. What if Dada doesn't care? What if Dada doesn't do anything? Dada keeps saying he loves us and that we're not bad boys. I don't believe him. I want him to love me. I don't want to be a bad boy. But Dada doesn't love me. How could he? He always chooses her. He always sides with her. He doesn't care what happens to me and Al. I gotta take care of Al. I always gotta. Dada doesn't care about two bad boys like us. I wonder how long it'll take until he starts hurting us, too.
"Edward," Dad says, quietly opening the door. He walks in and says, "Hey, buddy. Are you ready to eat?" I sit up and shake my head. My tummy's upset. I don't wanna eat.
"Okay, that's fine," Dada tells me as he walks over. I tense up as he squats down in front of me. "Do you want to get up?" I nod.
"Pick me up," I demand. Saturday, Dada said we could act like babies as long as we needed to. He said it was okay to cry and be held. He said it was okay to have accidents and tell him things, even bad things and feelings. I wanna see if that's true, but I don't wanna get in trouble.
"Sure," Dada replies. He picks me up and I hold him tight. I want Dada to love me. I love him. I love him so much. I hope he really does love me, too. I sigh happily, resting my head on his shoulder.
"You're so sweet," Dada says. "I love you, too, honey." I lift my head and look down at Al. He's still sleeping. Dada's making him wear pull-ups at night 'cause he's been peeing the bed so much. I'm worried about him. I know Dada said on Saturday that he was gonna start doing daddy things with Al but I don't believe him. I do daddy things with Al. I always have. I'm more like Al's daddy than Daddy is. I'm worried but I don't know what to do about it.
"C'mon, Ed," Dada whispers. "Let's let Al sleep." I nod and Dad carries me out of the room.
"Daddy," I say, "I have to pee."
"Okay," Dada replies. He puts me down and says, "Go potty. I'll meet you in the dining room."
"But I'm not hungry," I tell him.
"I know, but you should get something to drink at least," Dad says. "And who knows? Maybe watching Dada eat will make you hungry." I shrug and walk away, Dad walking down the stairs. I pause. I still kinda want to see what'll get Dada angry. Maybe I shouldn't go potty. Maybe... I shake my head. I'll get in trouble if I'm bad. I'm not stupid. If I want Dada to love me, I need to be a good boy, not a bad boy. I want to be a good boy. I'll go potty. Dada will be happy if I do and he'll love me. I go potty and wash hands. I look up, my face staring back at me in the mirror.
"I'm a bad boy," I say. That's what I'm supposed to say when I see myself in the mirror. I don't know why. I just am. She always said it was to teach me that I was a bad boy and teach me what I did wrong. It taught me that I'm a bad boy, but it never taught me what I did wrong. Maybe it's 'cause everything I do is bad and wrong.
I leave the bathroom and walk down the stairs. Dada's waiting for me. I go into the dining room and stand in the doorway. Dada's drinking coffee. He's got a bagel. I don't want a bagel. I don't want to eat. I'm not hungry. And even if I was, there's no guarantee that Dada will feed me. I don't know what to do now. The last week has been scary and weird. The grown-ups aren't acting like they should. Grown-ups are supposed to make rules and make me follow 'em. They haven't done that. Annie didn't have rules and Dada really doesn't, either. I'm confused. I don't know what Dad wants. I don't know what is bad and what is good for him. I don't know what he wants. Dada looks up and I flinch, holding my breath. He might be mad.
"How long have you been standing there?" Dada asks. I don't say anything. Dada stands up and I back up. Should I apologize? It never worked with her.
"Um," I squeak, backing up into the wall. I'm shaking, Dad pausing in front of me.
"Sweetie, what's the matter?" Dad asks and it sounds like he's worried. "Are you scared?" I swallow nervously and nod.
"Am I in trouble?" I whisper. Dad frowns.
"In trouble?" Dada questions. "Why would you be in trouble?"
"I, uh, just stood here," I tell him, my voice shaking. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do."
"What you're supposed to do is come join Dada for breakfast," Dad says. "I know you're not hungry, but I'll get you whatever you want to drink."
"Bad boys don't sit at the table," I blurt.
"Well, I don't know any bad boys," Dada replies. "You're Ed and you're a good boy." I stare at him and Dada reaches for my hand. I shrink back, whimpering 'cause I'm scared.
"I'm sorry," I say.
"Ed, I'm not going to hurt you," Dada tells me. "It's okay, baby. Come here." I swallow and get closer, Daddy pulling me into his tummy. He hugs me and I relax in his arms. "You're safe. It's okay." He rubs my back and picks me up. He holds me close and asks, "Did you go potty?"
"Yes," I say.
"Good boy," Daddy praises me. I feel my tummy gurgle and Dada kisses my hair. "Someone sounds hungry."
"No," I insist. "I'm not."
"Ed, it's okay if you are," Dad says.
"Bad boys don't eat breakfast," I tell him.
"You're not a bad boy," he replies. He carries me to the table and sits me down on a chair. "Now, what do you want?" I stare at the wooden table. I want Fruity Pebbles. They're my favorite. But I'm not allowed to eat breakfast because I was bad last night.
"Edward?" Dada asks.
"I was bad," I remind him. "I cried all night and wet the bed. I kept you up. I was bad. I don't get food when I'm bad."
"You were scared," Dada says. "You had bad dreams. And yes, you wet the bed, but I know you didn't mean to. You're not in trouble and you weren't bad. If you want something to eat, you can tell me." I look away, breathing funny, and shut my eyes in case he changes his mind and gets mad. Getting hit is easier when you can't see it. Kinda.
"Uh, Fruity Pebbles," I whisper. "Please?" I look up at Dada and see he's smiling at me. It's a nice smile. It makes me feel safe.
"Those sound yummy," he tells me. "I'll be right back. You want juice?" I nod.
"A-Apple," I say. Dad smiles and leaves. I stare at the table. My face has been smashed into the table a lot. It hurts. I don't like it when she does that to me. I know I'm bad, but I don't want to get hurt. My throat gets tight and my cheeks get warm. I start crying. I don't wanna cry. Crying gets bad boys in trouble. If you're crying, it means you know you were bad. I didn't do anything bad this morning, but I did something bad when she hurt me.
"Edward," Dada says. I look up at him and he sets the bowl and cup down. He gets closer to me and asks, "Why are you crying?" I shrug. I don't know how to tell him why I'm crying. Besides, he might get mad if I do. I'm trying to stop. I don't wanna get in trouble. But I can't stop. My chest is tight and my throat is closing up. I can't stop crying.
"Honey, what's the matter?" Dada asks me.
"I-I w-w-was th-thinking a-about her h-hurting me!" I cry loudly. It's hard to breathe. My chest is moving really fast but I'm not breathing. What's wrong with me? Why can't I breathe?!
"Edward, baby, try to calm down," Dada says. I can't! Daddy, I can't! I'm coughing, my tummy getting upset as I cry. I throw up all over the table, wheezing loudly. I fall out of my chair, crawling away from Dada. I've done it now! He's mad for sure! I didn't mean to! I crawl all the way to the wall and curl up next to it.
"I-I'm a b-bad boy," I say. I say it over and over again. I don't even know where Dada is anymore. Where am I? I'm scared. I'm scared! I want Daddy!
"Edward." I frantically look around. Dada is kneeling down in front of me. He smiles at me. That makes me feel less scared. "Are you okay? Do you feel sick?" I shake my head.
"J-Just sc-scared," I tell him.
"What are you scared of?" Dad asks.
"I w-was bad, s-so sh-she's gonna g-get mad an-and hit me," I explain.
"Ed, first of all you weren't bad," Dada says. "Second, she is in jail, far away from us. She's never gonna hurt you or Al ever again. I promise." I don't believe him. She's been hurting me since I was little. Sure, the police took her away, but that doesn't mean she's gone for good. She'll come back, one day.
"I'm sorry," I sniffle.
"It's okay," Dada tells me, smiling at me. "Are you still hungry?" I nod and Dad says, "I'll clean the table off and you can eat. Sound good?" I nod again and hold my arms up to him. He picks me up and I rest my face on his shoulder. He rubs my back. I feel safe.
"I love you," I whisper. Dada holds me tighter.
"I love you, too," he replies. Dada carries me to the table and puts me on a chair. He cleans up the throw up and gives me a bowl of Fruity Pebbles and apple juice. He sits next to me and I stare at the food. Dad picks his bagel up and starts eating. I guess it's okay for me to eat. I pick up my spoon and take a bite, cautiously eyeing Dad. He doesn't get mad or freak out, so I guess it's really okay to eat. I take a few bites, already full. Will Dada be mad if I don't finish? Annie never was. And Dad has always been nice to me and Al. I put my spoon down and stare at him.
"All done?" Dada asks. I nod. "Okay. Good job, Ed." I stare at the table and Dad takes the dirty dishes. He takes them to the kitchen and comes back.
"I wanna see Al," I tell him.
"Why don't you go see if he's ready to get up?" Dada suggests. I nod and slide off the chair. "I'll be in the living room if you need something." I nod again and hurry up the stairs. I go into our room and open the door.
"Al?" I ask softly. I hear the bed squeak but don't see Al. I walk over to my bed. Al's still laying down, but he's awake. He slides his eyes over to me and I ask, "Wanna get up?" Al turns his face away and starts sucking his thumb. I'm worried about him, so I ask, "Need to go potty?" Al doesn't say anything to me. I tug on my shirt and ask, "Um, are you okay?" Al doesn't say anything again.
"I'm gonna get Daddy," I tell him. Al doesn't look at me or say good-bye. I'm scared and worried about him. I hurry down stairs and go into the living room.
"Dada," I say nervously. "Al's acting weird." Dada lowers the book he's reading and looks at me.
"Weird how, Ed?" He asks.
"Um, he won't look at me," I explain. "I ask him stuff and he doesn't answer. He's just lying in bed. I'm scared."
"Well, let's go in together," Dada suggests. "Maybe all Al needs is some encouragement, yeah?" I nod.
"Yeah," I agree. I like this plan. I think it's good. Al talked to Dad over the weekend. Maybe he'll talk to Dada now. Dada stands up and we start walking. I wanna hold his hand. I reach for his hand but stop before I touch it. Dad probably doesn't want me to hold his hand. I'm a gross, dirty, bad boy. I sniffle loudly, my throat getting all tight 'cause I wanna cry.
"Ed," Dada says gently, grabbing my hand. "It's okay, honey. We'll get Al to feel better, you'll see." I'm not sure Dada can. Al's acting really weird. I like that he's holding my hand, though. It makes me feel a little better. We walk up the stairs and go into my room. Al's still lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. Dada and I walk over and Dad squats down by the bed.
"Al," Dada says gently. Al's eyes move toward Dada, but he doesn't sit up or say anything. Dad smiles at him and says, "Good morning, sleepy head. Are you hungry?" Al looks away and I twist my shirt. What's wrong with Al? Why won't he say anything?
"Why don't we get up, Al?" Dada suggests. Al doesn't do anything and I hear Dad sigh. Uh-oh. Is Dad getting mad now? "Honey, can we at least go potty? I think you had an accident and need to change." Al slowly sits up and his head bobs up and down. Dada smiles warmly at him, Al staring at him with a thumb in his mouth.
"Good job, Al," Dada praises. "Want me to pick you up?" Al nods and Daddy picks him up.
"Daddy," I say. "Daddy, is Al okay?"
"Ed, Al's just fine," Dada tells me. "I think he's just sleepy." I hurry over as Dad walks to our dresser.
"Is Al gonna sleep more?" I ask.
"Maybe," Dada replies. "Al, do you want to go back to bed or are you ready to get up?" I see Al shrug a little.
"We can color," I suggest.
"Oh, that sounds like fun, doesn't it?" Dada asks Al in an excited voice. Al nods a little and Dada grins. He grabs normal underwear for Al and carries him out of the room. I follow, Dad stopping in front of the bathroom
"Ed," Dada says, "Why don't you get things ready down stairs?"
"I wanna stay with Al," I say instantly.
"I know, but Al may not want you to be there when he goes potty and takes off his pull-up. It might embarrass him." I shake my head.
"I can't leave him," I insist. "Al needs me."
"Ed, remember how we talked about how I am going to do daddy things with Al now?" Dada asks. My throat gets tight and I nod.
"Yeah," I say, my voice shaking.
"Do you think helping Al get changed is a daddy thing or a brother thing?" Dada asks. I swallow, tears in my eyes.
"A-A daddy thing," I answer. I wipe my face and say, "I'm sorry."
"Nothing to be sorry about, sweetie," Dada replies. "We'll be right back, okay?" Al whimpers and shakes his head.
"N-No," Al cries. "B-Brother has to come!"
"Al," Dada coos, "Ed's going to stay right outside the door, waiting for you, okay?" Al sniffles and nods. Dada pats my head and they go into the bathroom. I wait for them. I want to help Al. Why is helping Al a daddy thing now? I always help Al clean up when he has an accident. Why can't I help now? I don't understand. The door opens and I look at them. Dada smiles at me and takes my hand.
"I'm sorry I wanted to stay with Al," I apologize. "I always help. I want to help." Dada nods. He's got his nice, safe smile on. That makes me feel better.
"Ed, honey, it's okay," Dada tells me. "You boys are pretty inseparable."
"Is that bad?" I ask nervously.
"Not at all," Dada replies, walking down the stairs. "I think it's sweet. I always wanted a sibling to be tied at the hip with. I'm happy Mom and I were able to give that to you."
"I, uh, always wanted more," I admit softly.
"More siblings?" Dada questions. We walk to the living room and I nod;
"Yeah. Like, two more, I think. Al would be a good big brother to them."
"Well, Mama and I did want to have more kids," Dada tells me. We sit down on the couch. Al's on Dad's lap and I sit as close to him as I can.
"How many more?" I ask.
"At least one more," Dada replies. "I wanted a girl."
"And the cancer's why you didn't?" I ask, Al looking up at Dada with big eyes.
"That's right," Dada answers. "The part of Mom that made babies had cancer inside of it, so she had it taken out."
"That's a vagina, right?" I ask.
"Uterus, actually," Dada corrects, patting Al's back. "Mom, uh, had ovarian cancer that spread to her uterus and cervix. All that stuff got removed after Al was born. But, um, it spread. First to her bladder, then her liver."
"Dada," Al says quietly.
"What sweetie?" Dada asks.
"V-Va... She said Mommy was a slut 'cause she had cervical cancer so she deserved what she got," Al says. I gasp, starting to shake. Al's not supposed to talk about that! "Is that true?"
"She said that?" Dada asks. Al nods. "Do you know what a slut is?" Al shakes his head.
"N-No," Al whimpers. "Is it bad?"
"Well, bad maybe isn't the best word for it," Dada says softly. "Al, what matters is that Mom wasn't a slut and didn't deserve what happened. Vanessa has been lying to you for a long time, boys. Why she'd lie about Mom, I don't know."
"She also said Mama's death is my fault," Al goes on, starting to cry.
"Oh, Al," Dada sighs, hugging Al tighter. "Honey, what happened to Mom is no one's fault. She got sick. No one is to blame. You had nothing to do with what happened, I promise." Al doesn't say anything. I'm shaking. Al wasn't supposed to say that! We're gonna get in trouble now!
"Al wasn't supposed to say that," I tell him frantically. I'm sweating. My heart is beating funny. What's gonna happen to us now?
"Ed, it's okay to tell me things like that," Dada tells me, looking at me. "It's good, even."
"Good?" I ask.
"Yes, Ed," Dada says, carrying Al down the stairs.
"So, I can tell you things?" I ask. I don't think it's really okay. I told Annie some things and she didn't get mad. But this is Dada and he may get mad. His wife hit me 'cause I'm bad. If I tell him those things, he might get mad at me. Dada sighs and rubs his forehead. Uh-oh. Did I say something bad? Is he mad at me?
"Ed," Dad says softly, looking down at me, "You can tell me anything whenever you're ready. I know it's probably scary to talk about right now, but I'm ready to listen whenever you're ready to talk. You don't have to hide, honey." I squirm on the couch.
"Oh, um," I say, tugging on my shirt. I'm so sweaty. My heart's beating fast and weird. I don't believe him. I want to, but I don't. He'll get mad as soon as I tell him things. I don't feel good. We aren't supposed to tell. Nobody is supposed to know things that she did or said! Dada tries to take Al off his lap but Al won't let go of him.
"Honey, I'm going to get the things you need to color," Dada tells him. "If you want to color, you need to let go, okay?" Al doesn't do anything. He just holds on to Dada.
"I... I can get it," I say. My voice is shaking. My hands are shaking. It's getting hard to breathe. I'm scared. We aren't supposed to tell people things! It's bad! We've been bad! We're gonna get in trouble! I glance around. Where is she? Where is Vanessa? She's gonna hear what Al said! She always does! Then he'll get in trouble! We both will! I shake my head, whimpering as my legs shake. When did I stand up? I can't remember.
"Ed, what's wrong, buddy?" Daddy asks. I back away. Dada doesn't care. He'll just tell her what we did! He always does! He always does!
"Stay away from me!" I yell. Who am I yelling at? Am I yelling at Daddy? No. Vanessa's here! She's coming for me. I can't breathe!
"Edward, honey, it's okay." No, it's not! I back into the wall. We were so bad this weekend! We were so, so bad! I fall down. My head hits the wall. Someone's coming for me! I curl up into a ball. I can't breathe. My chest hurts! I'm peeing in my pants. I don't care. I'm gonna get hit either way.
"Ed." I freeze. That's... Dada?
"Wh-What's happening?" I wheeze. I'm scared. I'm so scared!
"Well..." Dada begins, losing his sentence. "I'm not entirely sure. I think you're having a panic attack. I've read a bit about those. Are you scared?" I nod timidly.
"W-We've been bad," I tell Dada, starting to cry. "We've been so bad! We broke every rule! She's gonna be so mad!"
"Sweetie," Dada sighs. He's still holding Al. Al looks freaked out. "She can't hurt you anymore. That's all over now. You don't have to follow her rules anymore. She can't come back here. She's not going to hurt you." I blink, my whole body shaking.
"But we were bad," I insist.
"No, baby," Daddy says gently. "No, you weren't. You've both been very good boys. It's okay to tell me things. It's okay to cry and be upset and have bad dreams. It's okay to be angry or scared. It's okay. You're both doing just fine." I stare at him before I start sobbing. I cry so hard, my chest hurts.
"Oh, sweetie," Daddy says. "Come here." I crawl over and Dada manages to hug me while he still holds Al. He pats my back and I cry into Dada. "Shh, it's okay. It's okay. You're such a brave, strong boy. It's okay, Ed. It's okay. Daddy's here. I'm here." I cling on to Dada, crying so hard I might throw up. I feel Dada slide me onto his hip and he stands up. He walks to the couch and starts to rock us back and forth. Dada's so gentle. He's so nice to me. He rubs my back and whispers nice things into my ear. I wish I had Lamby to suck on. So, I suck on my thumb instead. I'm not supposed to, but it makes me feel better. I lay my head down on Dada, my breathing normal.
"That's it," Dada encourages. "That's it. It's okay, Ed. You're okay." I sigh, shutting my eyes. I take my thumb out of my mouth and hug Daddy tight. He chuckles weakly in my ear; "Sweet boy."
"I love you," I tell him. I do. I love Dada. I love him so much. I think he loves me. I want him to love me.
"I love you, too, Brother," he says. I like that. He said he loves me and called me my special nickname. I like that. Brother's my special nickname 'cause I got it when Al was born. Ed's my normal nickname and Brother's my special nickname. It makes me feel special. Al calls me Brother all the time and it makes me feel special. I shift on Dada's lap, freezing. Uh-oh. I wet my pants! Dada's gonna get mad at me! I start wheezing, crying all over again.
"Honey, what's the matter?" Daddy asks. He sounds worried.
"I-I peed in my pants!" I cry. It's hard to breathe. What's wrong with me?!
"Ed," Dad says softly. "It's okay. It's okay. It's just an accident. You just had an accident."
"I'm a bad boy," I say miserably.
"No, buddy," Dada replies. "No, you're not. You were scared. Annie told me this happened to you last week when you were scared. It's okay. I'm not upset with you."
"I-I'm sorry, Daddy," I cry. "I d-didn't mean t-to!"
"Ed, baby, it's okay," he says gently, holding me closer, "It's okay. Shh, it's okay." I choke and start crying even harder. I hold Daddy tight and he rocks me back and forth.
"Y-You d-don't l-love me 'cause I'm b-bad a-an' g-gross!" I cry.
"You're not bad and gross, Ed," Dada tells me softly, patting my back. "I love you so, so much, sweetie and you're such a good boy."
"I broke a rule!" I cry, almost yell. I'm scared. What's Dad gonna do to me? Lock me in the basement? Use the chain? Oh, God, please not the chain. I'm shaking. Not the chain. "Not the chain," I mumble, still crying. "Not the chain. Not the chain."
"What are you talking about?" Dad questions. He doesn't know. Not the chain. Dada doesn't know. I broke a rule, though. He's gonna hurt me.
"I broke a rule," I repeat. It's hard to breathe. I'm so scared. My chest feels tight. My lungs are on fire.
"Honey, you didn't break a rule," Dad says. "We went over rules on Saturday. Do you need to hear them again?" I nod frantically.
"B-Breaking rules g-gets bad boys in trouble," I remind him.
"Okay, Ed," Dada begins, "The rules mostly exist to keep you safe and healthy, remember? Our rules are that you and Al go to bed on time, that you brush your teeth, you shower at least every other day, that you tell Dada when you have an accident, that you eat, that you do your homework, and ask me to go somewhere. We also don't steal or keep food in our room, do we?" I shake my head.
"No," I reply, my voice shaking.
"We do our best to be kind to one another," Dada goes on. "We tell the truth and say nice things. We don't fight. Dada has some rules, too, about how to discipline you and to take a time out when I'm frustrated. Bottom line here, Ed, is that having accidents is not against the rules. It's okay, honey. It really is." I don't believe him. It's against the rules. It always is, no matter what. I don't mean to be bad. I really don't. I want to be a good boy so Dada will love me and be proud of me.
"You're lying!" I yell. "I'm always in trouble! I don't mean to be bad! Honest!"
"Edward, I'm not lying to you," Dad says calmly. "That's one of the rules. We don't lie to each other, right? Why would I lie to you, Ed? What good does it do? Why would I lie about you getting in trouble?" I'm confused. I don't know. I don't know! My whole body's shaking. I'm so confused. Nothing makes sense to me anymore.
"I don't know," I whimper. "I don't know. I'm confused. I'm scared."
"I know you are," Dada says gently. "We all are, I think. I know it'll take you and Al a little while to realize that I'm not going to just wake up one day and start hurting you. I get that. I know it'll take time for you to trust me again." Dad stops talking, his chin quivering. Al moans wordlessly and hugs Dad tighter. Is Dada gonna cry again? He's been crying sometimes. It's weird. Dad's never cried in front of Al and me. Not even when Mom died. He always cried alone in his room at night. I heard him lots of times and always tried to make him feel better. I don't know what to do when he cries now. It's my fault he's crying. I need to stand in the corner. I don't know how to do that anymore. I used to do it one way, but Annie said that's not how I do it now. That's why nothing makes sense. Grown-ups can't make up their minds.
"Ed," Dada says, his voice shaking, "Why don't you go get cleaned up? I think you'll feel better."
"I-I gotta stand in the corner first," I say. I was bad. I gotta get in trouble now. Maybe if I tell him I'll stand in the corner, he won't hit me with the chain. Dada blinks and sighs, rubbing his forehead. My muscles are tense. Is he mad? What did I do wrong?
"Ed," Dad says. He sounds frustrated. I think he's frustrated. "Ed, you are not in trouble. You don't have to stand in the corner. All you need to do is take a shower and put clean clothes on." I shake my head, wheezing.
"N-No," I whimper. "No, I was bad. I-If you... She's gonna find out and h-hit me! I didn't mean to b-but she doesn't care!"
"Ed," Dada says again. He sounds mad at me. I'm scared. My heart is beating so fast it might blow up. I can't breathe. "Edward, please calm down." Calm down?! I can't! Not when she's gonna get me!
"Shut up!" I yell. "Shut up!"
"Edward, stop it!" Dada scolds loudly. I keep crying, Dad sighing and lowering his head. "I have to call the social worker. I can't deal with this."
"No!" Al screams. "Don't call her! We'll be good! Don't send us away!" Dad does hate us! He wants to send us away. He can't deal with two bad boys like us. I knew he couldn't! I just don't get why he'd act so nice and try when he doesn't care.
"You don't care!" I yell at him. "I knew you didn't care!"
"Boys!" Dad yells back. "I'm not sending you anywhere! I just need advice! I don't know how to talk to you anymore!" Dad walks away, Al cautiously reaching for him.
"No, Alphonse," Dad says. "I can't handle this right now. I need to be alone." Al stops, crying loudly as Dad leaves us alone.
"Dada!" I yell. I don't want to be left alone! "Daddy! Come back! We'll be good!" Does Dad love us? I really don't know. I hurry after him, Al trailing miserably behind me. Where did Dada go? Did he leave forever? He might have. I don't want him to! Even if I don't know if he loves me, I love him, and I want him to love me back.
"Brother," Al cries. "Is Dada gonna send us away?" I just look at him. I don't know. I don't know what to tell him. I gotta take care of Al. I always gotta. It's my job. He needs me to take care of him. Al whimpers and lowers his head and I go up the stairs. Al follows me and I cry,
"Dada! Please don't send us away! I'm sorry! I can be good, honest! I want you to love me! Please don't leave me!" I hear a door open. I turn, Dad peeking out of his room. He's on the phone and my heart stops. "You promised!" I yell. "You promised you wouldn't give us up!"
"Edward, I'm not," Dad says but I don't believe him. I wrap my arms around my tummy and start crying harder than I already am.
"P-Please don't," I cry. "Please don't! We'll be good, I promise! We'll be good! We can be good boys!" I cry and cry, Al patting my back as he stands next to me.
"Ed, come here," Dad instructs. Oh, no. I'm in trouble now, aren't I? I know better than to tell a grown-up no. I creep over, my heart beating so fast it's gonna blow up. I'm shaking. What's Dada gonna do to me? I make it over and Dad hands me his phone. I shake my head.
"No," I say. "I'm not supposed to. Bad boys don't use the phone."
"Ed, it's okay," Dada says gently. "This person wants to talk to you."
"No one wants to talk to me," I mumble. Who would? I'm just a dirty, bad boy.
"That's not true," Dad tells me. "It's okay. Take my phone." My hand's shaking. I take the phone cautiously and raise it to my ear. Is she going to be on the other end?
"H-Hello?" I say, mostly whispering.
"Hi, Ed." My heart stops for a second.
"A...Annie?" Why would Annie call me? I don't understand.
"Your dad told me you aren't adjusting well to being back home," Annie says. "Are you and Al okay?" I shake my head, my bottom lip trembling.
"I'm scared," I tell her.
"Of what?" Annie asks.
"Of... that Dada's gonna give us up 'cause we're bad and he can't handle us," I admit. "I'm trying to be good, I promise."
"I know you are," Annie tells me. "Your dad told me you didn't do anything wrong." I shake my head again.
"I-I did," I whimper. "I broke a rule."
"Ed, the rules I had are the same rules your dad has," Annie explains slowly. "Was having accidents, being scared, or wetting the bed breaking rules at my house?" I bite my lip. I don't know. She says it wasn't, but I don't know. I'm also not sure about her rules being Dad's rules. Rules never stay the same.
"I guess not," I reply, my voice shaking.
"They weren't," Annie says. "Your dad is the same way."
"Rules always change," I tell her. "Your rules match now but soon, they'll change. They always change."
"Ed, your stepmother changed rules with no warning, but your father isn't going to," Annie says. "He and I talked about what my rules are and his rules are my rules. They aren't changing, I promise."
"I don't know," I say, my voice shaking. "They always change, Annie. Something that's good becomes bad and then it changes again. I'm just scared that... that when the rules change Dada will... that Daddy... I want him to love me and I don't want him to give us up."
"Edward," Annie says softly, "your father loves you and your brother so, so much. I know it's hard and scary now, but I promise he loves you." I bite my lip and whisper,
"Can I tell you a secret?"
"Of course," she replies.
"I, uh, sometimes wanna live with you at your house," I admit, staring to cry. "I-I'm not a good s-son!"
"Ed, listen to me sweetheart," Annie instructs. "I gave you and Al some stability for the first time in a very long time. I was consistent and fair and that's something you didn't have until you came to live with me. You're not a bad son for craving that. Your daddy knows you felt safe with me and got a little attached to me. It's okay, he's not upset and he doesn't think you're a bad son. That's why he talked to me about house rules is because he wants to give you that consistency you want."
"I love him," I cry. "But I don't feel safe! Al doesn't either!"
"I know, I know," Annie comforts. "It took you a little while to feel safe at my house, remember. Give yourself some time, okay?"
"I got scared," I sob into the phone, "I was scared and got pulled away somewhere! I peed in my pants like a bad boy!"
"Ed, honey, it's okay," Annie tells me. "I know you were scared and so does your daddy." I nod and look over at him. Daddy smiles at me and I somehow cry harder.
"I want my daddy," I tell her.
"Okay, you can hang up," Annie says. "We can talk again soon if you want." I nod.
"O-Okay," I croak. "Bye."
"Bye, Edward." I hang up and run to Dada. He picks me up and I cry into his chest. He holds me close and whispers in my ear, sitting down and rocking me back and forth. I don't feel safe. I want to feel safe. But Dada makes me feel a little better. I'm not as sad or scared when he holds me. I want him to hold me all the time. I wish he could. He did after I lost my leg a couple years ago and couldn't walk. Dada had to do everything for me and now I miss that. I wanna be close to him, like I'm a baby all over again. I'm breathing slower. My heart isn't beating so fast anymore. I'm just crying a little now. Dada's making it all better for me, even though I was bad. Maybe he does love me. I want him to.
"There we go," Daddy says softly. "All better." I sigh and rest my head on Dad's chest. I can hear his heart beating. I like that. It's safe.
"I'm sorry," I tell him. I don't know what I'm sorry for. I just am. Dada hugs me even tighter and kisses my hair.
"It's okay," he says. "You didn't do anything wrong. It's okay."
"Please don't give us up," I beg him. "No matter what, okay?"
"Never in a million years would I give you up," Dada tells me. "Do you want to take a shower?" I nod a little. "Want the bath bench?" I nod again.
"Mrs. Porter didn't let me use it," I say. "I fell."
"Why wouldn't she let you use it, Ed?" Dad asks.
"Um, it took up too much space and she didn't want to move it after my showers," I explain nervously.
"Did you use it at Annie's house?" Dada asks.
"Mostly," I say. "The first day I didn't but after that I did. I didn't always wanna shower, Dada. Only after throwing up or having an accident. I'm tired. I don't like doing that anymore."
"I know but it's important to stay clean," Dada tells me. I shrug. Why does it matter? It's never really mattered before. I guess Dad has cared about that, but I don't get why it matters so much. It doesn't change anything. I wanna decide stuff. Taking a shower is something I decide. I don't want grown-ups to decide everything anymore.
"Go pick out some clothes and I'll get the bench in the tub," Dad says.
"When I didn't use it at Annie's, I didn't fall," I tell him. I'm sort of proud. Maybe he will be, too. "Maybe I won't need it soon." Dada gives me a funny look.
"Ed, you'll always need it," he says. "You have to clean your stump and the bath bench is the easiest way to do that."
"But no one else has to!" I cry.
"No one else is missing a leg," Dada replies. I glare at him.
"Who's fault is that?" I question bitterly, angry tears in my eyes. Dad sighs and hangs his head.
"I suppose mine to an extent," Dada says. "I'm sorry." I shake my head.
"Whatever," I grumble. "I'm not using that stupid thing and you can't make me!"
"I don't want you to fall," Dad tells me.
"Why the hell do you care!?" I yell. "If I have to use it, I won't shower!"
"Edward," Dad sighs.
"I mean it!" I say. "If you put it in there I won't shower! You can't make me!"
"Fine, fine," Dada says. It sounds like he's tired. Maybe he is. "Just be careful, okay?" I glare and stomp away. I don't need a dumb bath bench. It's Dad's fault I lost my leg anyways. If he had just divorced her or listened to Al in first grade, it never would have happened. I go upstairs, pick out clean clothes and go into the bathroom. I start the water and stand in the tub. It's warm. I stand there for a few minutes. I'm angry. At least, I think I am. I really don't know. It feels like I don't know anything anymore. Nothing in my life makes sense anymore. A week ago, life was one way for me and now... I mean, I hated my life. Sure, I'm bad but I hate getting hit and yelled at and blamed for everything. I hate the changing rules and smelling bad and all the games. I hate all of it. But then, things made sense. I knew what to expect. I don't know anymore. It's really scary. I move to grab shampoo, my heart jumping when I begin to slip. I fall down, hard, the water hitting me in the face. Why does this always happen to me? What did I do that made me so bad? How can I fix it? I see the water turn red and I sit up on my knees. I'm hurt. My face hurts. I bit my lip. I hear footsteps. Someone knocks.
"Ed? Are you okay?" It's Dad. He sounds worried.
"I..." My throat is tight. I start to cry. It's loud and it hurts. Dad opens the bathroom door.
"Sweetie," he says, pulling the curtain back. "Did you fall down?" I look up at him. I nod. Dada bends over and says, "Can you get up?" I shake my head.
"I got hurt," I cry.
"I know, honey," Daddy comforts. His voice is steady and soft. I like when he talks this way. It makes me feel safe. Dada leans over and turns the water off. He puts a towel on the toilet and picks me up. He sits me on the towel and gently starts to dry me off.
"I'm sorry," I tell him. My lip hurts. I guess I need that stupid bench after all. I can't even shower like a normal kid. I'm just a freak with a missing leg who's been abused.
"For what?" Dad asks. I shake my head. I don't know what I'm sorry for the most. Yelling at him? Being a bad boy? Not listening? Peeing in my pants? Crying all the time? Wanting to live with Annie? There's so much to be sorry for. I can't just pick one thing.
"I... don't know," I say. My throat is tight. I'm embarrassed. I'm scared. I want to trust Dada when he says things aren't changing. That we're safe. That I'm not a bad boy. But I don't. I don't believe him. Dada sighs and covers me up with another towel.
"I'm sorry, too, Ed," Dada says. "There's so much I wish I could go back and change and do things differently, but I can't." Dad sniffles and he starts crying. I watch for a second before leaning forward and hugging his neck. I rest my head on his, Dada wrapping his arms around my middle. We hug for a while and Dada stops crying. He pulls away and kisses my hair.
"Thank you," he whispers. I nod.
"We said we were gonna give lots of hugs, remember?" I ask. Dada smiles and nods.
"I do, sweet boy," Dada replies. "I do. Thanks, little man. Are you okay?" I nod.
"I'm not that hurt," I say softly. "Dada, I'm sorry I yelled. I can't... what I mean is... I don't know why I say some of the stuff I say." Dad nods.
"It's okay," he tells me, drying my hair. "You've… what I mean to say is that you don't know how to handle everything that's happened to you and Al. I know you're hurting and upset and confused. We're all overwhelmed and it's okay to feel that way." I don't say anything. Dada leans in closer and I tense up. He starts to tickle my foot and I giggle a little. He tickles me harder and I can't help but laugh. Dada tickles me for a few more minutes before stopping and sighs, "I've missed your laugh so much. It feels like I haven't heard your real laugh in years." I look away guilty and we hardly say anything to each other for the rest of the day.
It's morning now. Dada's getting ready to go to work. I don't want him to go. Teacher's gonna watch us. I like Teacher. I love Teacher. But I don't want her here right now. I want Dada. I only want Dada. If Dada goes to work, I'm scared he won't come back. It's been a bad couple days. I have been bad and I know it. Dad might drive to work and never come back 'cause of me. Then what? I guess we'd go back in to foster care. I don't want that. I wanna live with Dada and Al forever. I watch Dada get his things ready for work. I glare. My heart's beating really loud. I feel warm and I'm shaking. I'm scared, but I'm also angry. How could he leave me and Al?! How could he?! Al's up, too. He's just sitting there, watching Dada. He doesn't want Dada to leave, either. What's gonna happen to us? I can't believe he's leaving us. I cross my arms, Dada pulling his long hair back into a pony tail. He glances back at me and smiles. I glare harder at him and quickly look away as Dad looks worriedly at me. I hear him walk over to me. I don't look at him. I'm too mad to look at him.
"Teacher will be here in a few minutes," Dada tell me gently. I grit my teeth and he says, "I'll be home about seven. It's lab day and my TA can't handle the lab alone, otherwise I wouldn't go. But Teacher will take good care of you." I clench my fist.
"You can't go," I tell him angrily, my voice shaking.
"Ed, I need to," Dada insists, putting a hand on my shoulder. I rip it off and start punching his arm.
"No!" I scream. I see Al scurry to hide as I scream so loud it hurts my throat. I keep punching him, over and over again, screaming, "No! No! No!"
"Edward, stop," Dad instructs in a strong voice. I stop. I stand up angrily and start pacing. I yell wordlessly and kick the wall so hard it makes a hole. I don't care. I pick up a glass violin Dada has on a shelf and throw it. It shatters and I don't even look at it. I scream again and pick up something else. I don't even know what it is. I throw that, too, and just keep going. I yell, I throw.
"Edward!" Dada yells. "Stop it!" I scream at him but I don't say any words. I'm so angry. I don't know why I'm acting this way. I'm angry. I'm angry. It's hard to breathe. I feel Dada grab me and I scream again. I start flailing my arm and legs, trying to get away.
"Let me go!" I cry. "Let me go!" I start to hit Dad again. "I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!"
"Edward James," Dada warns. "You need to stop. Now. I don't want to punish you, but I will if you don't stop." I struggle more, but I'm not hitting him as hard. I'm crying. When did I start crying?
"Don't leave," I sob, clinging on to the hand Dada's using to hold my arm. "Don't leave! Please!"
"Ed," Dad tells me softly, "I have to. I'm sorry, but I still have to work. We still need money so we can buy food and all the other things we need. I'm so sorry, sweetie. I wish I could stay with you and Al but I can't." I sniffle and look around. I see the hole in the wall, the broken glass and crystal, all the other things I threw and I start to wheeze.
"I-I'm s-s-sorry!" I wail.
"Shh," Dada comforts. "It's okay. You stopped as soon as I told you to. I'm not angry. I'm not going to punish you. I know how scared you are." I keep crying, Dada gently hugging me tight. "Shh, it's all right. It's okay."
"I-I'm such a b-bad boy!" I sob. "I'm a b-bad boy!"
"No," Dada says gently. "No, you're not. You're scared. You're angry. I know you are. It's okay."
"I-I sh-should be l-locked up!" I cry so hard my chest hurts.
"I'm not going to do that to you," Dada tells me. "Sweetie, even when I do punish you, I'm never going to do it the way she did. The way she used to punish you and Al… it wasn't right. I'm not going to do that to you." I keep crying, Dada holding me tight. I think this is what my life's gonna be like now. I don't feel safe. I don't think I ever will. I am scared and angry and don't know what to do and I think I'm always gonna feel that way. I'm a bad boy. I know I am. This is just the part where Dada either decides I'm bad or somehow decides I'm not. If this is the part after abuse, I think I'd would have rather had nothing change. At least I knew what to expect then. Now, I don't. I think I hate the after part more than her hitting us. Except… I don't. Nothing makes sense anymore.
I don't know what I'm gonna do now. I don't know what any of us are gonna do now.
I'm scared.