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Chapter Three
Tony shifts slightly to get a better view of the television. The movie's just getting to the good part, and he does not want to miss any part of it. The man has just walked into the house where his 'mother' lives, and he's sure that the girl who has just stepped into the bath tub will be die. Observing each scene intently, he takes note of how the house lies in silence now that he's the only person awake. Outstretched on the couch, watching a classic horror film while the nightly world outside is showered upon, he's almost tempted to sleep.
Almost.
Timmy has only been asleep for an hour. He took the little boy to his room after he found him slumbering on the couch, Spongebob constricted with his left arm, and Spaghetti-O-crusted spoon held firmly with his right hand. He pleaded him to keep the lights on but after a few minutes, he was deeply unconscious enough not to mind his babysitter turning it off.
Deciding—and hoping—that Timmy would stay that way until tomorrow, Tony took out the "Psycho" DVD from his bag then put it in.
Despite his slightly languid state, he thinks that sleeping on the job might not be a good idea. He's sure it's not going to be pleasant both for him and the rest of the Gibbs' family when they find him off-guard. The elder Gibbs will just have more reason to dislike him, while his wife will be lesser pleased with him, especially considering the faintly pink stain on her white carpet. He doesn't want to embarrass Abby, above all.
So, he tunes in closer to what he's watching, hoping that that will be enough to keep him awake. Someone has just walked into the girl's room. Called it, he thinks smugly. Although he already anticipated it, a cold sensation still snakes up his skin as he sees the 'mother' watch the guest. He has seen the film twice before, but every time he gets to that part where the murderer watches the victim, he gets goosebumps.
He guesses that it's tenfold magnified now that he, for some reason, feels that he's also being watched.
He has been feeling anxious after he finished talking to Angelita on the phone. At first, he took it as a result of the elder Gibbs' constant 'I'm watching you' warning to him. He even suspected that he might have placed some kind of camera somewhere in the house to make sure that the teenage boy is doing his job. But then, he found it silly and decided to shake it off.
Not an hour later, he felt alarmed again, and that lasts until this moment. He has reasoned that it's just the storm and the pending danger of losing power, but he knows that those explanations are not sufficient to pacify his nervousness. It's as if the owner of those eyes is breathing down his neck.
The girl in the movie turns on the shower, unknowing of the danger that lurks on the other side of the curtain.
Tony shuffles to get a better view, at the same time attempting to rid of his wariness.
The murderer then rashly parts the shower curtain open, and then raises his weapon. The girl turns around in surprise, and then—
A high-pitched scream behind the couch strikes Tony's ears. Startled, he barrels around, miscalculating the difference between the furniture and the air, and then falls down on the ground. He stands up immediately to confront whoever stands there, but he only finds Timmy reduced to tears and shaking. He quickly grabs the remote from the table, pause the movie, and then come towards the scared boy. "What in the—Timmy, what are you doing? Why are you up?" he asks him, slightly annoyed.
Timmy responds by sobbing, rubbing his drenched eyes with his small, balled fists.
Tony sighs, letting go of his irritation. He should've known better than to watch a horror film with a four year-old around. He kneels in front of him in hopes of calming him down. "Hey, buddy," he speaks softer. "You got scared?"
Timmy nods, his lips bent into a frown.
"It's okay. Don't cry," Tony says before pulling the boy in an embrace. "It's just a movie."
"But…but she's dead," the four year-old responds, his voice muffled by Tony's shirt.
"I know, I know," Tony says. He separates from him, his hands fastened on his small shoulders nonetheless, and then looks him in the eyes with a smile. "But she's not really dead in real life," he continues.
"She's not?"
"No," Tony shakes his head. "She's paid to do that." Timmy sniffs, his crying completely stopped. "And the bad guy is paid to play the bad guy, too."
"Okay," Timmy mutters.
Tony wipes away a tear that rolls down Timmy's cheek. As he does, he realizes that it's not the only thing that is on his face. Brushing away the bread crumbs dotting around his mouth, he asks, "What are you eating?"
"Nutter Butter," Timmy answers.
Tony's jaws clenches momentarily before he begins again. "Where'd you get it?" he inquires further with a feigned smile.
"From Daddy," Timmy replies abashedly.
"Of course he did." Tony makes a face as he stands up. Great. A hyper kid is just what I need, he thinks. He turns the DVD player off then plops back down to the couch after changing the TV back to cable. Timmy picks up the package of food that he dropped earlier, and then he sits beside Tony. "Your geezer of a father's making sure he makes my life miserable," Tony mumbles through gritted teeth.
Timmy ponders about a word from Tony's comment. "Tony?" he speaks after giving up. "What's 'geezer' mean?"
Tony's eyes widen when the question registers to him. "Uh," he stalls, "it means…it means super. Yes! Super. Your Dad's just fantastic, really. He's…he's great."
Timmy buys the lie and believes it. "Daddy is super," he agrees, taking out another Nutter Butter from the container.
Tony breathes in relief. Hopefully, that's the last time the little boy will use, and ask about, that word.
The rain outside knocks heavily on the roof above, while the wind howls against the windows. A 'severe thunderstorm' warning flashes at the screen, disrupting the program. Tony thinks that it will probably pass after a while, and they will be unaffected. It's just momentary, like that brooding sensation of being observed that's creeping back to him.
"I wanna watch Spongebob," Timmy says.
"Tim, it's 11:30," Tony points out. "I don't think they're playing Spongebob anymore."
"But I wan' cartoons!"
Tony rolls his eyes. Sugar rush is settling in. "What do you say we watch something else?" he turns towards him. "I have 'Up' in my bag. You wanna watch that?"
"No! 've already seen it! I want Spongebob!"
"Timmy, calm down," Tony says firmly.
Timmy crosses his arms petulantly. His lips protrude to a pout.
"It's late at night, and there's no channel that's playing anything for kids anymore," Tony explains patiently. He pulls his backpack to him, and then he draws out a DVD. "All we have is this," he adds. "We can watch it."
Timmy appears offended by the lack of choice given to him.
Tony takes the remote once again, and then clicks the video button. "Now it doesn't really—" A loud boom of thunder outside cut him in midsentence. He stands up alertly, while Timmy looks up at the ceiling nervously. Before any of them can comment on it, the lights go off.
Timmy gasps, and then he screams.
"What in the…" Tony mumbles as he scans the darkness.
"Tony…"
"Stay put, Timmy," Tony orders him. He walks towards the kitchen.
"Where are you going?" Timmy asks, afraid. He cautiously follows the older boy.
"I'm looking for flashlights," Tony responds as he begins searching below the sink. After straining his eyes to make out the silhouette of every object inside the cabinet, he finds it. He switches one on, and the brightness it gives brings them comfort. "Now we're solved," he says to the boy, smirking triumphantly.
As he happens to look out the window, he notices that the back porch light of the neighbor's house is still on. Investigating further, he sees that on their block, they are the only ones who do not have any electricity. "Guess I have to call the electrician then," he says nonchalantly, though the situation is making him nervous. He takes the phone from the receiver, putting an extreme effort to calm himself down, and then consults the sheet of paper handed to him by Timmy's mother.
They then hear a soft rustle from outside.
"Tony, I'm scared," Timmy says, breathing shallowly.
Tony shakes his head. "It's just the wind, buddy," he tells him. "It's okay." He, however, does not believe his own statement. He dials the number, and then busies his mind with the monotonous rings instead.
Boom! Lightning flashes outside as it follows the thunder. However, Tony is almost absolute that the loud sound also resulted from a door being kicked open. Forgetting about the phone on his hands, he turns to the little boy shaking feverishly in fear behind him. "Timmy, I need you to listen to me," he instructs him, acknowledging that there will be other people in the house with them shortly. "Go up to your room, and lock the doors. Do not go out until I tell you. Understand?"
"But Tony…"
"No but's," Tony says. "And I want you to hide where nobody can find you. Is that clear?"
Timmy nods hesitantly.
"Here. Take the flashlight and go," Tony hands him the object, and then gently pushes the boy away.
The violent attempt of breaking in through the front door has ceased, and he guesses that they will try to get in through the backdoor next. He carefully walks out of the kitchen to the living room. "Hey! This is Alan. Sorry if I cannot come to the phone right now…" the electrician's answering machine startles him a bit. Before he can turn the phone off, he notices that the floor leading to the front door is lighted. It has the same yellow one from the flashlight he handed Timmy earlier. "Timmy?" he calls to the boy vigilantly while drawing closer.
"…but if you leave me a detailed message, I'll get back to you as soon as possible!"
"Hey," he calls again, his heart now hammering madly inside his chest.
A muffled scream catches his attention. An "Ow!" follows suit. "Tony!" Timmy shouts. "They're behind you!"
Tony half turns. A silhouette detaches from the shadows on the walls. From what he can make out, the person is almost as tall as he is, and his built is slightly the same. He steps back.
"Hello, Tony," says the boy, his hoarse voice familiar. "Jeanne sends you her best regards."
Tony frowns. Before he can make a move, another person standing behind gagged him with rag soaked with chloroform. He tries to struggle out of his grasp, but the boy's grip is strong.
"No!" he faintly hears Timmy shouting. "Tony! Let 'im go!"
"Shut up, you little brat!"
"To—"
As Tony falls down on the floor, his mind ebbing out of consciousness, he worries about the little boy left in his care. He does not mind being hurt, as long as Timmy's safe. He doesn't need to give the elder Gibbs another reason to think he's irresponsible, make Mrs. Gibbs doubt his ability to take care of another person, and see Abby sad if something was to happen to her little brother.
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