Sorry for the wait on this chapter, I had to rewrite many passages to do it justice. On the plus side, it is much longer that the previous ones.

Enjoy!

Chapter 3

Harry, Marvin and I moved around a lot. For a while, it felt like every few months we would just pack and go. Another town, another city, they dragged me across states and even crossed the border to Canada a few times. We stayed in more places than I care to remember. They rented houses, bungalows mostly, on the outskirts of towns with no immediate neighbors. We lived in one or two cottages, a renovated farm, and once, a townhouse in New York.

After a while, all these places just seem to blend into one another. The only one I remember clearly, the one I'll probably never forget, is the house they took me back to on that Christmas Eve of 1990. It was an old country house, much bigger than the houses we would inhabit in the years to follow. It stood alone on a propriety that seemed to stretch for miles. There were tall trees shading it from the road and a cedar edge running around the back of the house to a double garage. I counted two chimneys and many large arched windows on the upper floor. It must have been a beautiful house a decade earlier, but it now showed signs of neglect.

Of course, I didn't see much of the house upon arrival. It was well past midnight by then and not a single light lit the driveway or house. It felt like we had driven for hours, but I suppose it hadn't been that long. The rest of the journey had been silent for the most part, but that did nothing to assuage my fears. I was hungry, parched, tired, and cold, not to mention that my shoes and pants were still wet from the Murphy's basement. And I was scared, so scared. Yet somehow, as long as we had been on the road, I had forgotten that I would not be going home. It was only when Harry parked the van into the garage that I began to realize that there was no way out for me. Had it not been for the duct tape, I would have resumed my screaming. However, as Harry and Marvin seemed determined to ignore me for a while longer, I did my best not to attract their attention. Harry was the first to break the awkward silence:

"What do you want to do?

– Get drunk?" came Marvin's terse reply.

"Yeah well, you and me both, Marv. But right now, we have a little bundle of misery to take care of."

I had no difficulty guessing to which "bundle of misery" Harry was referring to. I swallowed hard and twisted my wrists, hoping to loosen Marvin's knots. I had been at it since Marvin had first sat down, but with very limited success. My wrists felt raw and any move from my part sent a fresh wave of pain up my arms, but I was determined.

"Take care of? What exactly do you suggest we do, Harry?

– Hell if I know…

– Listen, can we just… not do this right now? My feet are killing me, my head is about to burst and I'm not even sure I'll be able to walk tomorrow. I can't deal with the brat right now!

– Okay Marv, take it easy. I'll take care of the kid and we can talk things through in the morning.

– What are you going to do?" asked Marvin.

Harry didn't answer right away, thinking hard.

"Storage room; I'll lock him in the storage room. He can't cause trouble down there.

– Yeah, okay…" Marvin opened the door of the van before pausing and turning back to Harry with a warning:

"Just make sure he can't booby trap the storage room."

I did not know my captors much, but it didn't take a genius to figure Harry was the one leading their duo. It was therefore with apprehension that I watched him get out of the van, muttering to himself. To Harry's credit, he was not half as violent as I expected him to be after his rather… colourful threats earlier that evening. He was by no mean gentle, half leading, half pulling me along, but he didn't trip me, he didn't hit me, he didn't even yell at me. It would be one of our most civil interactions for many months to come.

Harry didn't waste a second and led me straight through the back door, into the kitchen to what I saw were stairs leading to the basement. He turned the basement lights on, but what I saw was hardly comforting. Hard cement steps led to what I could see was an unfinished room filled with firewood. Although I had reeled earlier that day upon hearing Marvin imply that I was afraid of the dark, I was still very much afraid of unknown and dark places, and that basement certainly qualified. I refused to take another step further. Not that Harry cared much.

"Walk, if you know what's good for you."

The duct tape kept me from answering, not that it would've made much difference with Harry. Still, I held my ground.

"Okay, kid; here's the deal: either you walk down those stairs, or I push you down."

Harry, always the great negotiator.

To this day, I'm still unsure whether Harry would've made good on his threat. I certainly believe him though, and my reaction was not to his liking. To my shame, I felt my throat contract and tears fill my eyes, which only irked Harry.

"Don't give me that!" he snapped, dragging me behind.

Their basement was much bigger than the one at my house, and mostly empty, except for some tools on a distant shelf and the wood furnace. At the far end of the basement stood the storage room, an impressive looking door equipped with a lock. Just one look was enough to convince me I did not want to be locked in there. I tried to catch Harry's eyes with a pleading look, but he ignored me as he fiddled with the key. No sooner had he opened the door that Harry pushed me inside the pitched black room.

"Get in there and be quiet!"

With my hands still tied, I lost my balance and fell on my side in a muffled scream. But Harry, uncaring bastard that he was, had already closed the door behind me.

And I was left alone.

In the dark.

It was at this point that reality caught up with me. As I lay there, on a cold hard floor, I finally broke down and burst into tears.

I shouldn't have done that.

Living under Harry and Marvin's roof, I was quick to realize that once tears started to fall, there was no stopping them.

Best to avoid them entirely.

What took me much longer to master were my train of thoughts. There are many thoughts I keep locked away in a corner of my mind. Too many thoughts. Mostly of my family, and my life before I crossed the burglars' path. Had I dwelt on them day after day, I never would have survived. Too bad I had to learn that lesson the hard way, starting on that fateful night.

Instead of relaxing my body and concentrating on my bindings, I let my mind summon the faces and voices of my loved ones. I missed them so much, and the more I focussed on them and the memory of our last exchange, the harder I cried.

Problem was, I was still gagged.

I quickly found myself choking on my tears, fighting to catch my breath, only adding to my distress. To make things worse, my mind played tricks on me and I could've sworn there was something in there with me. A childish fear, I know. I am well aware that scary things and people don't hide in the dark. However much I know this, to this day, even after all this time, I still can't stand being locked in the dark.

I will always remember this night as the worst of my life. Many more would follow, but none left their mark as much as that nightmarish Christmas Eve.

My tears eventually ran dry. At some point, I sat down, eyes wide open. I was beyond tired, but I wouldn't sleep and, as the hours passed, I fell into a dazed state.

That's how Marvin found me the next morning when he came to check on me. I watched him warily, sitting in the shadows of the room, as he stood in the doorway, somewhat hesitant to come near me. I suppose his caution was warranted after the events of the previous evening. My traps had been ingenious, original and unexpected. They had served their purpose, which was to protect my house. They had also unfortunately taught Harry and Marvin never to underestimate me again.

I didn't flinch when Marvin turned on the lights to inspect the room. He didn't speak right away and only after making sure there were no nasty surprises waiting for him did he turn his attention to me. Boy was Marvin tall! To my eight-year-old self, he looked nothing short of a giant! And it suddenly occurred to me that I had given that giant every reason to want to hurt me. It worried me for about a second, but I was too exhausted to be afraid.

I watched Marvin frown as he knelt to my level to remove the duct tape. I tried my best to dig deep into my anger and bravado. I wanted to curse at him, spit in his face or, better yet, kick him in the face! The first words to escape my lips were, alas, not half as threatening as I would have liked them to be.

"I wanna go home."

I did not recognize my own voice; it was much too high and weak. I saw Marvin tense up at my words, and he avoided my gaze as he answered:

"Are you thirsty? You want some water?"

At the time, his words made no sense. Didn't he hear me? Growing agitated, I repeated my request:

"I wanna go home."

But again, my words fell on deaf ears.

"How about breakfast?" was Marvin's reply. "You want some toast? Or cereals?"

As casual as his words were, they chilled me to the bone. A part of me understood that he wouldn't answer me because he had no intention of taking me home, but I clung to the belief that this… situation was just temporary. That before the end of the day, I would be back home and would forget this entire episode. I found Marvin's refusal to answer me disturbing to say the least. Without thinking or meaning to, I shouted:

"Take me home!"

Marvin's reaction was so swift I barely had time to finish my sentence. His hand flew to my mouth, slamming the back of my head against the wall behind me, making me yelp in pain. This time, he looked me square in the eyes as he spoke.

"Don't do that."

His tone remained calm, but his face had darkened. The events of the past evening were clearly not forgotten or forgiven.

"Scream again and I'll gag you and leave you down here. Understand?"

I don't think I could have nodded even if I'd wanted to. But if being quiet was what it took to get out of the storage room, then I would be quiet. He removed his hand and I waited a few seconds before voicing my most pressing need:

"I need to go to the washroom."

That request seemed to take Marvin aback.

"Oh, right…"

He pulled me to my feet and, to my surprise, untied my hands without needed to be asked. Marvin then led me back upstairs to a small washroom. I took my time, fearing being sent back to the storage room as soon as I was done, but Marvin made no mention of it. He was surprisingly patient with me, all things considered. After taking in my appearance, he sat me down and cleaned up my wounds, applying some cooling lotion to the raw flesh of my wrists and attending the split-lip I had not even felt until then. I did not protest, remembering how quickly his mood could shift from sympathetic to threatening.

And that was always my problem with Marvin.

Marvin could be nice, he could even be kind. He was the one who brought me treats like candy, chocolate milk or ice cream. To Harry's outrage he also always let me keep my pick of the toys they stole, regardless of their worth, including a Super Nintendo, a PlayStation and a guitar. He taught me how to play and cheat at cards and let me watch movies I definitely shouldn't have with him. I shared my first beer with Marvin and he taught me everything he knew about cars, including how to steal them.

Marvin made it really hard for the child I was to hate him.

But then, whenever I started to let my guard down, when I started to think he wasn't so bad and maybe, just maybe, I could trust him, he would painfully remind me that he was and would always be my enemy.

At least with Harry I always knew where I stood.

I don't think Marvin ever realised how confusing his behavior could be. I could tell he didn't enjoy hurting me, and that my kidnapping didn't sit well with him. I was young, and no matter how much I tried to deny it, scared. Marvin provided me with the protection I craved…To an extent. At the end of the day, if Marvin had to choose between me and him, he would always choose to save himself.

After bandaging my wrists, Marvin took me back to the kitchen and gave me some peanut butter and jam toasts with a glass of milk. It was still early in the morning, not even seven o'clock yet, which makes me now realise how badly Marvin must have slept that night to be up and about so early. He usually sleeps well past nine, unless Harry insists he gets up.

I nibbled absentmindedly on my toasts, careful to keep Marvin in my line of vision. There was no television in the kitchen, but Marvin was listening closely to the news on the radio while drinking some coffee. I did not pay much attention to the radio; I was too tired to listen. I now suppose that Marvin was monitoring the radio for news of my abduction, but it was much too early for that.

It was still dark outside and snow had started to fall. There had clearly been a drop in temperature overnight. The weather, however, was not what I had in mind. Ever so often, when Marvin wasn't watching, I would eye the kitchen door. I never stopped and considered how cold it might be or the fact that I did not have my coat, scarf, mittens or hat. I just wanted to run. Then I spotted something equally interesting: a telephone mounted on the kitchen wall.

I was torn.

The door or the phone?

My preference went to the door, but then I took a second look and saw the triple locks in place. I was tired but not stupid. I knew there was no way I would ever open that door before Marvin caught up with me.

The phone, then.

I looked over at Marvin, but he was still focussed on the news report. Good. I pretended to reach for my glass of milk, but tipped it over instead. Milk spilled all over the table and I jumped back out of my chair. At my sudden movement, Marvin must have expected me to bold for the door, and he threw himself accordingly between me and the exit. He was however quick to notice I had not moved in that direction and seemed unsure of what to do next. Taking advantage of his hesitation, I put on my most guilty looking expression and gasped:

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to!"

Marvin only then seemed to realise what happened and relaxed at my words. I pretended not to notice and took a few steps back, edging ever closer to the phone. Marvin saw nothing. He grabbed a dishcloth, sounding annoyed, but not angry.

"Don't worry about it"

While Marvin was busy wiping the milk from the table, I made my way to the phone, careful not to draw his attention. I knew I didn't have much time, but just as I lifted my hand to the phone, I heard a second pair of footsteps and turned in time to see Harry walk into the kitchen. We both froze and glared at one another. Harry did not look good. His eyes were drawn and red. His head was blistered and was painful to look at. Although he had bandaged his injured hand, I could see it was swollen and that he had difficulty bending his fingers. In other words, I was probably the last person Harry wanted to see first thing in the morning.

"What the hell is he doing up here, Marv?" he growled with all the vehemence of his grudge.

"He was hungry" explained Marvin, unfazed. "I made him breakfast.

˗ You made him breakfast? What are you, his maid, now?

- What was I supposed to do? Let the kid do it? See how long it takes him to get his hands on a couple of kitchen knives? Bet he could come up with all kinds of fun surprises with those.

– As far as I'm concerned, he can starve, for all I care."

Harry looked at me as he spoke those last words, but I was too furious to see my attempt at calling the police foiled by his arrival to be afraid. I think I heard Marvin whisper something that sounded suspiciously like "bullshit", but he quickly added:

"Just sit down and have some coffee, Harry."

Harry shot daggers at me before turning his attention to his coffee. I made no move to sit back at the table with them and neither of them noticed how close I was to the phone. It was risky with both of them in the room, but I still hoped to get my hands on that phone.

"He's eaten; take him back downstairs, Marv. We need to talk.

– I don't want to go downstairs, I want to go home!" came my angry retort.

"Shut up, kid!" yelled back Harry.

He clearly regretted his outburst as I saw him wince.

"Harry, don't scream…" moaned Marvin, massaging his temple with one hand.

"Why did you have to bring him up here anyway? What if someone comes over, huh? Did you think of that?

– Come over? When was the last time anyone came all the way out here?

– You never know, Marv. What if someone hears the kid?

– Like who? The neighbors? I'm not even sure we have neighbors. Will you just chill, we're miles out of town, what exactly do you expect him to do?"

And then the phone rang.

For a split second, the three of us just stood there, stark still. Had I not been so alarmed, I might have been amused by Harry and Marvin's shocked expression followed by the flash of panic in their eyes as they realised where I stood. And then, everything happened all at once. I heard the sound of their chairs scrape against the floor behind me as they scrambled to their feet. But they were too far and I had already grabbed the phone receiver. I lifted the phone and opened my mouth as something came flying at my head, missing me by a hair's breath, only to crash against the wall next to me. Glass flew in all directions and I felt some shards graze my cheek, making me duck and cover in fright. Suddenly, I was lifted off the ground and the phone was ripped from my hands.

"No!"

But my protest was cut short by Marvin who clamped my mouth shut and carried me out into the next room. I heard Harry laugh nervously:

"Sorry about that, damn dog always gets caught in the telephone cord."

I remember being infuriated by these words. I turned my head every way and clawed at Marvin's hand while beating the air with my legs. Considering my level of exhaustion, I couldn't keep this up very long and my body soon gave up. Angry tears burned my eyes and rolled down my cheeks.

"Shh, calm down. It's okay, just calm down." whispered Marvin without loosening his hold.

His words only made me sob harder. Harry was not on the phone very long. When he joined us in the living room, his eyes could've bore a hole in my head. I saw no pity or remorse in them, just a burning fury.

"Get him downstairs. That was work, we gotta go." was all he said.

"What, you want to go now?

– We're a twenty-four-hour service, Marv. It's Christmas day, so we get paid emergency fees, plus holiday fees. That's nearly a thousand buck, it would look real suspicious if we didn't go.

– And us, walking around looking the way we do, that's not going to look suspicious?

– We can cover most of it up. Anybody asks, we got into a car accident.

– Car accident… makes sense. But we'll have to unload the van first." Marvin pointed out.

Harry cursed loudly at that, making me jump.

"I'd forgotten about the goods! I'll… handle the van, just take care of the kid."

On that note, Harry turned around without a backward glance. Marvin didn't argue. He simply took a deep breath and shifted his grip on me.

"Okay, kid; let's go."

The prospect of being locked in that storage room gave me a new, but short-lived burst of energy. Marvin was ready for me this time and, fight as I might, it didn't change the outcome of that day. I suppose I should've been grateful he didn't see fit to tie me up or gag me again, but it took me a while to learn to appreciate these simplest gestures. All I knew was that I was once more locked in the dark.

Alone

For hours.

I pounded my fists against that door until I couldn't feel my hands anymore and screamed myself hoarse, to no avail. Marvin wasn't kidding when he said we were miles out of town. Eventually, I gave up and quiet down. And that's when I recalled Harry's words.

It was Christmas day.

It was Christmas day, and here I was… As silly as it might sound, that was the moment I stopped believing in Santa Claus.