Jane stood before her son's bedroom door, intensely apprehensive of what she was about to do. The event that occurred the night before was only a fraction of her fear's origin. What truly scared her, and also filled her with dread, was that a character twice Arthur's age subjected her own son to boxing training, which resulted in him becoming fierce, mean-spirited, and possibly sadistic. Earlier she considered confronting him if he attempted to leave the house. If she did though, would Arthur attack her? She wished David would've skipped work to aid her, but his latest client offered him a great amount of money to provide catering for their office party. Jane had to deal with Arthur herself.
In spite of the risk of a physical attack, the aardvark sensed a pinch of confidence that things would not be as bad as she theorized. The night before, her son did not display any signs of foreboding when she and David confronted him and his instructor. He had the same reaction when his instructor threatened them with a switch blade. Yet that morning, when she passed his bedroom door, Jane was sure that she heard Arthur murmuring to himself; not only that, but it sounded like he was whimpering as well. Was Arthur actually repenting? Based on the facts she and David had, it was an irrational presumption. But his sobs were undeniably genuine. The only way to know for sure was to enter her son's room, a controversial mission that had to be completed.
Jane urged herself to relax and drain all the anxiety out of her system. In order to succeed, she had to be perfectly composed, an emotion that would greatly express her comprehension abilities which would help lower the risk of a fight with Arthur. A fight, verbal or physical, would be least likely if the young aardvark truly regretted every bad thing he had done since the model plane incident. Plus she had all the time in the world to talk to her son. After all, when he didn't come down for breakfast, she called the school saying he was ill. All she had to do now was go into Arthur's room, gather all the information from him regarding his instructor and his boxing training, report everything to the police, and schedule an appointment with a child psychologist. With great tranquility and proper wisdom, her goal would be achieved and the gradual return to normality would commence.
Taking another deep breath, Jane molded her right hand into a fist, raised it to the door, and after a silent prayer, knocked three times.
The only reply she got was silence.
Jane took a big chance and slowly opened the door. "Arthur?" she said. "Arthur, is it alright if I come in?"
Again, no response.
She feared that Arthur had jumped out the window and ran off. The assumption was immediately debunked when she saw her son curled up in the heart of his bed. He stayed in this position as his mother cautiously strolled to the bed and sat down next to him.
"Arthur," Jane said, shaking her son's shoulder. "Arthur, say something, please. I want to help you."
Those words finally provoked a response from Arthur. He lifted his head to gaze at his mother. "I'm sure you do," he murmured in a hoarse voice.
"I'm serious, honey," Jane said calmly. "Your father and I are worried to death about you. We've always been worried since the fight with Binky. When your punishment was over, we wanted to talk to you in exchange for letting you watch TV again."
"I knew you would," Arthur mumbled.
"What?" Jane asked growing a little fearful.
"Forget it," said Arthur. "I should've listened. I would've been able to stop myself."
It sounded like Arthur was holding back tears by the tone of his voice. He was regretting his actions; but how did it happen in the space of one night? That's what Jane was determined to find out.
"Arthur, what are you saying?" Jane inquired.
"I said forget it!" Arthur cried, throwing the blanket over his head.
"There's no way I'm not!" Jane stated as she grabbed the blanket and threw it aside.
Regret hit her with the speed of a racecar and the force of a pouncing tiger. Arthur was sure to begin an attack on her now. Once he became too aggravated, she deduced, he would start threatening her verbally; then, if things were to escalate between them, those threats would become physical.
Jane was wrong however. Her son remained motionless, seemingly unaware that his mother tore the blanket off on him. His reaction contributed to the belief that the 8-year old was in fact ruing all the violent things he had done to his friends and family. The only question which was yet to be answered was, how did his view of things change so quickly?
There was no time to reflect, at least that's what Jane thought. Her desire to know the full story of her son's unholy beliefs gnawed at her, demanded her to stay in the room until she got what she needed- the reason why he decided to become a boxer, and the identity of his boxing instructor.
After silence rained for what felt like a half-hour, Jane got the courage to continue her inquiry. "Arthur, I don't mean to upset you in any way," she said. "I'm still horrified over what happened last night, and so is your father. We didn't think the situation with you and your sister would intensify like this. After your father told me you and your instructor attacked him, I was angry. After your instructor threatened to kill me, I became- and still am -afraid for my life.
"But that's not the point why I'm here. I need to know why things had to be this way. What made you want to take boxing lessons? Was the young man with the switch blade your instructor? And why, after spending maybe three weeks with him, are you starting to reconsider it all? Please, Arthur, I need to know; I need to help you."
Arthur laid on his bed, unspeaking and unmoving. Judging from his facial expression, one could tell he was deliberating whether or not to speak and how much it agitated him. His mother was purely and immensely distraught regarding his conduct at home after his subjection to boxing, yet it puzzled him that she and his father didn't attempt to bring him to a psychologist or, at the very least, follow him and Sharkbite to the boxing gym- the opportunity to do either must have appeared once or twice; the reason why neither parent took it was a mystery. The boy still felt rueful and, after a minute of careful thinking, decided to explain why he was exceedingly sad and not hostile.
Arthur did not sit up or change position when he spoke. Jane didn't mind; as long as her son was communicating, she was fine with it.
"Last night, I felt like the greatest kid alive," the young aardvark began. "I spend hours after school training for the tournament and the whole thing was the best thing to happen to me. Everyone cheered for me and I won a thousand dollars- well, actually I won five hundred since I gave Sharkbite the same amount, but it didn't bother me.
"Everything seemed to be in its place even after you and Dad showed up. I didn't care when he pointed that switch blade at you; I thought he was protecting me so I can continue pursuing a boxing career. Then I thought things over and I realized what I had done."
"When did you think it over?" Jane inquired.
"Last night after a terrible dream I had," Arthur responded. "It was a glimpse into the future- at least what I thought it would be. I was rich, loved the world over, and had a collection of championship belts along the wall. I was living the good life until I heard the doorbell rang. At first, I thought it was someone playing ding-dong ditch. Then, one by one, my old friends came in, limping and crying; their faces were bruised and bloody. They said I had beaten them up but I had no memory of it.
"The last thing I remember before I woke up was running outside to escape them. I turned around and found you, Dad, D.W., and Kate lying on the ground, looking just as bruised as my friends were. I tried to wake you up but you didn't. Sharkbite appeared beside me and told me everyone in my life deserved to die."
Needless to say, Jane was beyond disturbed at her son's description of his dream. It injected her with more distress than any other egregious event in all her life. She feared not only for her son's grim future but her family's safety. Her instincts told her to phone the police. But if Arthur's instructor were to learn of this in any way possible, he would surely stalk and then attack them like a lion hunting a herd of gazelle.
As her trepidation swelled, Jane asked her son: "Is this Sharkbite the one who got you involved in boxing?"
"Yes," Arthur replied. "I remember you met him once long before the tournament."
"You're right," said Jane. "It was the day you got into that fight. How did you two meet exactly?"
Arthur finally sat up before recalling his first encounter with Sharkbite.
"After I got away from Binky," he said; "I stopped to catch my breath. Sharkbite got my attention when he remarked on how good my fighting skills were. We started talking and I told him about D.W. and what she did, and how everyone hated me now. I thought he was gonna disown me like everyone else, but he said I did the right thing. Next thing I knew, I was at the boxing gym learning how to be a better fighter."
By now the three main questions Jane had for her son had been answered to a good extent. Arthur was sure to know the name of the boxing gym he was brought to and at least one of the members knew of this Sharkbite character, so the matter would be put to an end in no time. Even so, three new questions emerged. Had anyone ever noticed Arthur's presence and wondered why he was there? If so, was it never brought up to the management? And if that was true, what was the reason for such negligence?
"Arthur, was there anyone else at the boxing gym besides you and Sharkbite?" Jane questioned.
"Yeah, there were two older guys named Austin and Kyle," Arthur stated. "They were bullies to us, but mostly to Sharkbite. It started with them making fun of me for being at a boxing gym; then, after Sharkbite insisted me to sign up for the boxing tournament, they told me I was making a big mistake and demanded us to end my training. The guy running the place (his name is Derek) said the same thing. Instead of listening to them, we made a bet with Derek that if I won the tournament, no one was to say a word to anyone."
Once more, Jane's questions had been settled with fair-minded answers that staggered her. It was tremendously astounding to know that three people were aware of what her son was going through, and that none of them contacted the authorities beforehand. Jane guessed that Sharkbite must've had some level of control in the gym despite his age and idiosyncrasy. It was unrealistic, but she couldn't think of any other explanation for the negligence.
Jane sighed. "It's clear to me how this all happened and why it did. But tell me the truth, Arthur; did you stop to think about what you were doing, at least once?"
"When Sharkbite told me about the tournament, I was a little scared," said Arthur. "Then I remembered how everyone treated me like crap, so I gave in."
"You know, if you ever feel angry, you have me and your father to talk to."
"You really think I would want to talk to you after hurting my feelings?"
Arthur's retort stupefied his mother. Jane did not expect such a thing to come out of her son's mouth, and upon coming out of her daze, she tried to reason with her son. "Arthur, it's okay if you feel angry or sad or afraid, but that doesn't mean-"
"It doesn't mean what, Mom?!" Arthur barked. "D.W. disobeyed me when I told her not to go near my model plane! I get it now that I shouldn't have hit her, but that doesn't mean you should let her off the hook!"
"Arthur..." Jane uttered as she quivered.
The 8-year old aardvark backed away from his mother to give each other some space. He became conscious of the fact that he was letting rage control him, allowing it to make all the decisions for him. What was worse was the only profit he would gain: unleashing all the fury from his soul. Thankfully, the notion of releasing it upon the very person who gave him life and was trying to give him aid compelled him to resist the temptation.
Arthur still couldn't contain all his anger. He heaved a deep sigh and said, "I don't mean to make you cry, but I still can't get over it. You can say what you want about D.W. but it won't erase the fact that her so-called curiosity brought us to where we are. You and Dad just let her off easy; you didn't even scold her. Say what you will but I'll never accept it as rightful justice, and nothing you can say or do will change my mind."
For the duration of the subsequent period of silence, Arthur kept himself at a distance from his mother; he was hunched over and his eyes were fixed to his mattress. Jane was hunched over as well, but unlike her son, the assertion he made about his sister mortified her. Pangs of conscience thwacked her from the base of her spine up to her brain. Everything her son told her was true. Pardoning D.W. of her wrongdoing was more than favoring one child over another. Jane was aware that it was her and David's job to teach their children right from wrong and a punishment like a time-out or restriction from a specific activity was to help them understand that immoral behavior is not tolerated in the world. By reprieving discipline from her second youngest, D.W. would accept the belief that she could commit any misdeed she set her mind to and evade the consequences, including arrest and prosecution.
Contrition coursed through Jane's body and tears dripped from her eyes. She made sure that Arthur didn't know she was crying; she didn't want him to think he was winning the argument and that she deserved to be miserable. As the only parent in the house at the moment, Jane had to keep herself completely composed to fully gain her son's trust. Even after he said he regretted hitting D.W. and trusting Sharkbite as a friend, it was uncertain if Arthur still saw her and David as oppressors. Because of how far they had gotten in their inquiry, Jane was determined not to leave the room until her son agreed to accept the help of a professional.
After another minute of stillness, Jane finally spoke to her son. "You're right that we should have punished D.W.," she said quietly; "and we should've talked to her when she was touching your model. I'm glad to know you're sorry for what you've done, but don't think I'm still against you."
Arthur lifted his head up to look at his mother with a stern expression. "The next time D.W. does something wrong, whether to me or someone else, you promise that you'll call her out, so she doesn't do it again?" he asked.
"Of course Arthur; it's my job to make sure you and D.W. stay out of trouble," Jane responded. "And I think it's best if you weren't anywhere near that boxing gym or Sharkbite."
"I beat up Dad and Binky on his orders," Arthur stated. "He made me his pet. Why would I continue to obey him?"
Jane gazed at her son in surprise. Said emotion started to morph into delight as she comprehended the sincerity in Arthur's statement. "You'll agree to give up boxing? And to tell everything to the police?" she inquired.
"I will, Mom," Arthur said, crawling over to his mother and sitting beside her. "Consider it the first of a hundred amends I have to make."
"I'm sure all your friends will understand how you felt for the past three weeks," Jane told him. "Believe me; they had no right to rule you as a monster just because you lost control of your anger."
"Really?" Arthur asked.
"Absolutely," Jane replied.
The next thing Jane knew, Arthur had wrapped his arms around her body and drew him close to her. With a warm smile and a tear running down her cheek, Jane returned the hug. Even Pal got in on the heartwarming embrace. It was cute, and brought a sense of hope that all would return to normal in a matter of days. Jane speculated that David and D.W. would be the first to forgive Arthur when they came home from work and preschool. All of Arthur's friends would follow soon after, and then the normal lives everyone had before the repulsive events would resume in the end.
After leaving Arthur in his room to get a little rest, Jane headed downstairs and into the den where her computer was. The next phase in her mission was to obtain the number of the police department and search for psychologists in the area. The phone book was in one of the kitchen cabinets so she had another source of information in place of the Internet. If neither provided any information, she would call her son's pediatrician and ask for recommended child psychologists. And while she did her research, Jane felt greatly delighted by Arthur's willingness to answer the questions she gave him and supply her with the information needed to end the nightmare at last. For her, life was soon to be normal again.
Outside, the clouds had grown in size and were now a dark shade of gray, indicating a heavy rainstorm was about to occur. Jane wasn't too concerned about the weather; she knew that it was going to happen sometime that day. The weatherman said it wouldn't rain until later but, since the elements themselves were usually tough to predict, there was no real point in saying exactly when it was going to rain.
We'll need a couple umbrellas when we go to the police, Jane thought. That shouldn't be too much trouble unless it's going to be windy.
Jane heard footsteps in another room and guessed that Arthur had gone into the kitchen to grab something to eat. He hadn't come down for breakfast she remembered, so it wasn't much of a surprise- if anything, it was comforting to know that her son was up and about; the thought itself told the mother aardvark her son was ready to go to the police with her to share his side of the story.
At first, Jane thought the next noise she heard was thunder in the distance. It took no less than a second for her to recognize the slam of a car door. Was it David? Had he returned home because he forgot something? There was another slam similar to the first so that assumption was quickly proved false. If it wasn't David, who was it?
Jane got up from her chair and headed for the door. The instant she stepped towards the door, she stumbled back as three loud knocks resonated throughout the open corridor. Taking a couple deep breaths to calm down, Jane strolled to the front door and opened it, and was immediately greeted by a duo of solemn police officers.
"Are you Jane Read?" one officer, a young, deep-voiced rabbit, asked.
"I am," Jane replied; it was clear by her voice that she was a little uneasy.
"We'd like to talk to you about your son, Arthur," the other officer, a middle-aged cat, said. "May we come in?"
"Yes, of course," Jane responded, stepping aside so the two men could enter.
Once they were inside and Jane had closed the door, the rabbit officer told the aardvark the reason for their arrival.
"We have received several phones calls from parents regarding your son," he explained. "They were mostly from mothers who claim Arthur was involved in the boxing tournament that was held last night. Are you aware of this?"
"I do know about this," Jane stated. "Arthur told me everything and I was going to take him to the station to give a statement."
While she told the duo about the conversation she had that morning, Jane swore she heard the cat officer whisper to the rabbit officer: "Do you think this is the mother of the missing girl?"
"I beg your pardon?" Jane asked abruptly.
"Oh, my partner thought you knew something about a missing child's case," the rabbit officer replied. "A little girl was led away from preschool by an older individual. Don't worry, we have officers looking into this. In the meantime, we like to speak to your son. Is he here at the moment, or is he at school?"
Jane swallowed her sense of panic and said, "No, he's here. I'll go get him."
She strolled to the kitchen where she presumed Arthur was having some cereal. He wasn't there. Panic returned as Jane noticed the door to the garage was ajar. She rushed to the door and pushed it open. Even in the dim light, it was patently clear to notice Arthur's bicycle and helmet were gone.
Jane's heart pounded against her chest and she cupped a hand over her mouth, smothering her screams. The two officers ran over and asked her what was wrong. Her only reply was: "He's gone!"