AN:

Happy New Year everyone!

I am so happy to see my obsession with this story is contagious! To all my new readers, welcome to this fun take on a Christmas classic.

Chapter 31

The autumn breeze was warm on my face as I fled as fast as my skateboard would carry me. Hidden in my jacket's pocket, the handgun bumped against my leg every time I pushed the skateboard forward. I didn't find its heaviness as reassuring as I thought I would.

After finding Marvin's stash in another drawer, I had left the house in a hurry. I hadn't counted how much money he had hidden in the flashlight and had stuffed the loose bills in my backpack before running downstairs.

So far, everything had gone according to plan, yet the further away I ran, the more an emotion ate at my guts. It wasn't happiness, which was odd. I should've been ecstatic; I had escaped, I had won! Any triumph I might've felt, however, was drowned by anxiety. I hadn't been outside on my own since… Since back in Winnetka. Everything seemed so threatening.

I remembered how I used to walk and run errands by myself. Being alone on the street had been so natural. I was disturbed to see how my months of captivity had eroded my confidence. All I felt as I took my skateboard down quiet streets was fear. Fear of leaving my familiar environment, fear of encountering strangers, fear of the unknown.

I kept telling myself there was nothing to be afraid of when a car sped past me, honking. Just what I needed! I tripped and fell while the driver laughed his head off, no doubt proud to have scared some punk kid out on his skateboard. What an asshole!

I retrieved my skateboard and set out again. Not too far to go. In just a few blocks, I would reach the gas station and diner where I would call home. Or the police? I really should call the police, but maybe I would call home first. My parents would want to know where I was.

And I longed to hear their voices.

A warm feeling spread through me, overcoming my fear. I pushed my skateboard harder. Marvin had told me I would never see my parents again, but he had been wrong! My parents would take me home where I would be safe.

Would I, though?

I had a sudden flash of Harry. Back in that dark unfinished basement, belt in hand, hadn't he warned me what would happen if I ever ran away?

"I'd have to call Sid and Charlie."

I hadn't considered Harry's brothers when I had hatched my escape plan. Now that I was so close to succeeding, Harry's words came back to haunt me.

"They would find you, and they would kill you, Kevin. If you made it home, my brothers would follow you there. Chances are, they'd be waiting for you. Is that what you want?"

Is that what I wanted?

I pushed my skateboard forward, willing the thought aside. Harry had lied! His brothers wouldn't be able to hurt me, no one would. I would be safe! My family would be safe! But, Harry never lied, Marvin did, the little voice of reason reminded me. What if Harry had told the truth? What if, by the time I made it home, Sid and Charlie were there waiting for me? What if they hurt my parents? My siblings?

No!

I wouldn't let them! I would tell everyone! I would tell my parents, I would tell the cops. They would stop Harry's brothers. But would they believe me? Sid was a cop; why would anyone believe me over him? When had anyone ever been interested in hearing my side of any story?

I was sweating, but not from the autumn sun. The warm feeling that had carried me this far evaporated, leaving me feeling cold. I was doing the right thing, wasn't I? Yes, yes I was, I told myself to keep going. Harry and Marvin weren't family. I had a family. A loving family who missed me.

But did they?

I allowed my skateboard to slow down. What if my family was happier without me? My parents had claimed to want me back, but what if they hadn't meant it? What else could explain their trip to Florida?

What happened next was my fault. I was so filled with doubts that I crossed the street without watching for incoming traffic. It was the sound of the vehicle skidding that jolted me back to reality. I turned around and yelled in surprise as the crest of a Dodge van slid to a halt mere inches from my chest. I lost my footing and had to grip the hood of the van to keep myself from falling while my skateboard disappeared under the vehicle.

Close call!

An all too familiar close call.

It played like déjà vu. My eyes, glued to the Dodge crest, slowly moved to the drivers. Through the windshield, none other than Harry and Marvin stared back at me. Harry was behind the wheel and part of me thanked heaven for his good reflexes. At his side, Marvin was holding a forgotten coffee cup, his eyes round with surprise. Equally stunned, none of us moved. A fresh wave of adrenaline then whipped me into action.

Fuck!

I ran.

Half a second later, I heard the tires of the van spin into drive, followed by a crunching sound. My skateboard was history. And I really could've used my skateboard, anything for a little speed!

With the van on my heels, the gas station and diner were out. I would never make it to the end of the street, let alone all the way to the gas station. I had to find shelter elsewhere, and fast! Abandoning the open street, I blindly ran up the first private lawn I came across to a brick bungalow, like so many in the area. There was no car in the driveway, but that didn't stop me; what choice did I have? I reached the side door of the house, rang the bell and even tried the doorknob, but it was locked.

As the van came speeding up the driveway in pursuit, I frantically assessed my options; I was faced with a locked house, a wooden fence and a padlocked garage. Wooden fence it was! I climbed the garbage cans next to the door and leaped over the fence.

"Kevin!" Marvin's voice rang in the air. "Kevin, stop! Come back!"

He wasn't angry. Anger would come later. Far from calming me, Marvin's call made my heart pound. He was too close! Over the fence, I, however, came to an abrupt stop. My eyes swept the backyard and I wanted to scream. What had I done? There was nowhere for me to run! Nowhere to hide! The wooden fence ran around the backyard, solid and high. I was trapped! Why couldn't the owners have a chain-link fence, which was easy to climb?

The above-ground swimming pool near the patio might've been the answer to that question. The owners had probably only wanted to prevent children from drowning in their pool. How could they know their good intentions might trap some dumb kid trying to escape his kidnappers? That's when I located a red oak tree growing by the fence on the other side of the pool. If I climbed one of its branches, I might be able to escape in another yard! I might even find help!

My hesitation cost me precious seconds. The fence was more an inconvenience than an obstacle for Marvin who jumped over it with ease. His feet hit the ground behind me as I fled for the tree.

"Kevin, get back here!"

I ignored him and pushed myself to run faster. My lungs were killing me, begging for a break, but I couldn't slow down. I circled the pool, my eyes locked on the tree. Its branches were so high!

I sprinted the last few feet and got a hold of one of the lower branches. My muscles strained under the effort. A daily regimen of television, piano, video games and skateboard had not prepared me for this unexpected pull-up session. My feet found the trunk of the tree for support and I managed to pull myself upward. I was almost there when something yanked me down. Marvin! He had grabbed my backpack, and wasn't letting go. My feet slipped on the trunk of the tree.

"Gotcha!"

But not quite. Marvin continued to wrestle with my backpack until I felt the zipper come undone, which was followed by a surprise cry:

"What the hell!"

Startled, I caught a glimpse of Marvin, showered in cash. I might've laughed, had I had any breath left. Perfect distraction! But it wouldn't last. I pulled myself back up the branch, just as Marvin grabbed one of my legs.

"Let go!" I hissed, kicking at him, but my aching arms couldn't hold on anymore.

Marvin gave my leg another yank and I fell at his feet, panting. As I lay there, catching my breath, I wasn't scared, I was angry. My plan was a total bust, and it was Marvin's fault. I didn't wonder why he and Harry were back. I knew why.

The watches.

The watches the idiot had forgotten were the reason Harry and Marvin had turned around and had come upon me.

He was too distracted by the money that had spilled from my backpack on to the grass and bushes nearby. He picked bills off his clothes and now seemed split between dealing with me and chasing the money dancing in the wind.

"How did you get out? And where did you get that money, huh?" Marvin asked, pulling me to my feet.

He might've been intrigued by my escape, but his curiosity had been overshadowed by another question: Money. Now that he had caught up with me, Marvin picked bills off his clothes and seemed split between dealing with me and chasing the money dancing in the wind.

I was beyond angry and needed to humiliate him, no matter the cost.

"The money? I found it.

– Oh really? Where? Under your mattress?" Marvin replied with sarcasm.

"No." I broke into a mean grin as I confessed. "In a hollowed flashlight.

– A hollowed- Wait, you've been in my room!" Marvin gasped.

Shock and outrage registered on his features as he took a second look at the money scattered across the lawn. My smile broadened. It wasn't a pleasant smile.

"Harry told you to find a better place to hide your cash."

Marvin looked about to throttle me. I might've taunted him some more had Harry not rounded up the edge of the pool. Seeing the money around us, he stopped and cocked his head.

"What the hell is this?"

I wasn't afraid of Marvin, but Harry was another story. My smiled disappeared and my mouth went dry.

"It's my money! The kid stole it!

– Stealing from family, kid? I thought we had raised you better than that."

Against my better judgment, I was ashamed by the accusation. I wasn't a thief! Harry didn't sound angry, but I wasn't fooled; he would make me pay for this little escapade. Confirming my suspicions, Marvin grumbled, pushing me forward:

"Just wait till we get home!"

I knew what that meant!

Harry. His belt.

I wouldn't let them hurt me, not again! I threw off Marvin's grasp and drew the gun from my jacket.

"I'm not going back!"

I had not expected to need the gun, much less use it and was perhaps as surprised as Marvin to discover it in my hand.

"Is that my gun?"

Marvin looked to his partner in alarm.

"Stay where you are!" I shouted at Harry who had taken a step forward, frowning.

"Marv; don't tell me that thing is loaded.

– I always take the magazine out." Marvin replied while eyeing the gun in my hand in which the magazine had clearly been loaded.

"Yeah, but you left it in the drawer, right next to the gun." I told him. "Real useful."

I wasn't jeering at Marvin. I just wanted to make sure he understood I knew what I was doing. A handgun was no pellet gun, but the basics were similar, and from the way Marvin gritted his teeth, I'm sure he remembered how I handled that weapon.

"Kevin, put the gun down; it's dangerous.

– No! You're going to hurt me!

– No one's going to hurt you." Marvin pleaded, while looking around, fearful that my shouting might attract someone.

"Liar!

– Come on, kid; when have I ever hurt you?"

True, Marvin had never raised a finger on me, but that was only because Harry handled the disciplining.

"You'll let Harry hurt me."

Harry did not deny the accusation. If anything, he looked more menacing than ever.

"Fun's over, kid; you've made your point, now give us the gun.

– No! I'm going home!"

My voice cracked. I knew it was over, but I wasn't ready to accept it. This was my last chance to go home. I had tried too often to run. I sensed that after today, Harry and Marvin would take drastic measures to make sure that didn't happen again. If I didn't escape them now, I never would.

"Kid; you know as well as I do the only place you're going is home, with us. Now give me the gun."

Harry's refusal to give in to my demand made me fear how right he was. I might've been the one holding the gun, but Harry was still in control. I had to make him see I meant business.

I took the safety off.

Far from scaring him, Harry smiled. As if having a gun aimed at him was anything to laugh at!

"Kevin, you're not going to shoot." Harry told me. "We're family."

Family.

If I had learned to play on Harry and Marvin's weaknesses, so had they learned to play on mine. Damn Harry for knowing me! I wanted nothing more than to escape their hellish family, but I wouldn't pull the trigger and Harry knew it. Sensing my hesitation, he took a step forward, extending his hand.

"Give me the gun, Kevin.

– We're not family! We'll never be family, I am not like you!"

That's when Marvin struck, bursting forward to pry the gun from my hand. The scuffle that ensued is a confused blur in my memory. Marvin held my wrist with one hand while struggling with the gun with the other. I don't think he meant to hurt me, but Marvin twisted my wrist and forced the gun down, making me cry out. It all happened so fast. When I wouldn't let go, Marvin swept his leg behind mine and my breath caught in my throat as up became down. My back hit the ground, and the next thing I knew, a gunshot sounded in the air. Had I pulled the trigger? Had Marvin? We'll never know, and maybe it doesn't matter.

A shot had been fired.

Marvin screamed.

The gun was in my hand.

I couldn't move, frozen on the ground. I forgot all about running away as I watched Marvin clutch his arm. A dark stain spread on his coat. When he took his hand off; it was covered in blood.

"Marv!"

I had never seen Harry move that fast as he ran to Marvin's side. His partner, however, pushed him away, hissing between his teeth:

"Never mind me; get the fucking gun!"

Hearing Marvin speak those words wasn't enough to shake me out of my shock. Never mind the traps I set for them on that 1990 Christmas Eve, this was different. This wasn't a pellet gun; this wasn't a harmless stunt; I could've killed Marvin!

"I didn't mean to." I gasped as Harry rounded on me.

"Kevin, give me the gun."

Horrified, I let Harry take the gun from me.

"I didn't mean to; it was an-"

Before I could finish, Harry brought the gun down and smacked me across the face. I saw stars and went down, whimpering. The iron taste of blood filled my mouth. From somewhere in the back came Marvin's voice.

"Harry, the neighbours…"

I pushed myself to my hands and knees, trying to regain focus. Harry's work boots appeared next to me. I lifted my eyes and met Harry's murderous glare.

"Get up!"

I tried to obey, but it wasn't fast enough for Harry who grabbed me by the cuff of my jacket and pulled me to my shaky feet. He then shoved me in front of him. In a daze, I saw how Marvin, as white as a ghost, was collecting loose bills while holding his injured arm. The stain on his arm was larger, I noted. Distressed, I saw how blood was dripping off his fingers.

"Abba, I'm-

– Don't!" Marvin snapped. "Don't you say a fucking word; I don't want to look at you."

I probably deserved that, but I always found Marvin's rejection unsettling.

"But I'm sorry!

– Marv told you to shut up!" Harry growled. "Forget the money, Marv; we gotta leave!

– But they'll know…" Marvin argued, picking up more bills off the bushes. "The owners of this place… they'll know something happened. They'll call the cops.

– You got most of it. By the time they get back, if they find a couple of bills here and there, they'll consider this their lucky day, now let's move!"

Marvin took an unsteady step toward us, but then stopped and reached for the pool, holding on to its side.

"Can you make it to the van?" Harry asked with worry.

"I'm fine. I just need a sec. Go, I'll catch up."

I was more worried about Marvin than I was willing to admit it to myself. I kept looking back at him as Harry led me away. I hadn't processed what had happened yet. The van in the driveway, however, brought me back to my senses. I was supposed to escape! I stiffened in Harry's grasp and looked to the street for help. If I could just get someone's attention! Harry must've guessed my intentions as he grabbed me by the throat and slammed me against the van.

"Listen to me, you little shit," he snarled in my face. "someone will have heard that gunshot and called the cops. Do you know what that means?"

The cops? Oh, please let someone have called the police! Harry must've read the hope in my eyes as he smacked again; not as hard as the first time, but enough to make my teeth rattle.

"News flash, kid; if the cops come, it won't be to help you." Harry then informed me. "You shot Marv, remember? If the cops catch you, they'll throw your ass in jail. And we're in Tennessee, kid; you'll get the chair!"

Going to jail? Getting the electric chair? Harry's words painted a terrifying vision of the future. Obviously, given the circumstances, no judge would've condemned me for shooting Marvin. And the idea of a child going to the chair for a mere flesh wound is laughable, but I was too young and too distressed to think clearly.

"It… It was an accident. I didn't mean to!" I stammered.

"You wanna argue that with a judge?

– No!

– Then do as I say and get in the fucking van!"

Harry had struck fear in my heart. What was the use of the running away if I ended up in jail? If I was executed? Harry, as angry as he was, wouldn't let that happen to me. He was still willing to protect me, I naively thought.

I stepped into the van.

The ride back home was as quick as it was quiet. Marvin sat in the back with me where he still wouldn't look at me. He hadn't taken his windbreaker off, so I couldn't tell how bad his injury was. Judging from his ashen face and his forehead beaded with sweat, it couldn't be good.

As soon as we arrived home, Harry dragged me to the basement. I braced myself for the beating that was sure to come, but that wasn't our first order of business. Standing before the open door, Harry then looked at the key, which was on its hook, right where they had left it that morning.

"How did you get out of the basement?

– Marv forgot to lock the door."

Blaming Marvin seemed believable, the sort of mistake he would make early in the morning.

"Bullshit!" Marvin shouted from the top of the stairs.

Harry's eyes remained on me.

"Kid, I can buy Marv forgetting a lot of things, but locking the basement isn't one of them. I'm going to ask you nicely. One. More. Time. How did you get out of the basement?

– Why should I tell you? You're going to beat me either way."

I expected another slap for that cheek, but Harry narrowed his eyes and replied instead:

"You deserve more than a beating for what you did to Marv."

I lowered my eyes in shame. I had never wanted Marvin or anybody to get hurt! I looked up the stairs, but Marvin had disappeared, presumably to take care of his wound.

"Is he going to be okay?" I mumbled, almost embarrassed to reveal how much I cared.

"Don't know. The sooner you tell me how you got out of the basement, the sooner I can go check on him and find out."

When I remained silent, Harry tore my backpack from my shoulders. It was still hanging open, but besides most of the bills, I don't think I had lost anything. Harry dug through it, looking for a clue. He took the Talkboy out first. I did my best to appear casual, as if I didn't care what was on the tape, but Harry must've guessed I had taken it with me for a reason. He pressed the play button, the tape rolled and the voice of my dad was heard loud and clear:

"We'll never give up on Kevin. We will-"

Harry stopped the recording, took out the tape, which he held on to, before smashing the Talkboy on the concrete at our feet. The Talkboy, like my skateboard, was history. I jumped back before this display of violence and expected another slap, but none came.

Harry didn't say anything, not a word, as he returned to my backpack. When his hand closed on my elephant, I saw him wince and take out his hand as quickly as he had dove into the bag. A trickle of blood ran down his fingers. More carefully this time, Harry took the elephant out of the bag. The blade fell at our feet.

Harry tossed my elephant in the basement and retrieved the blade. The wheels in his mind were turning as he inspected the lock on the door. Harry didn't know what part the blade had played in my escaping, but he knew I had used it. He didn't look at the strike box.

"That's a utility knife blade; where'd you get it?"

Harry wouldn't stand for the silent treatment for long, and so I settled for a half-truth.

"Found it.

– Just like you found Marv's money? And his gun? You're a real little snake, you know that?"

I felt the heat rise to my cheeks.

"I am not a snake!

– So you didn't shoot Marv back there?

– It was an accident!

– No, it wasn't!" Harry snapped. "You don't point a gun at someone by accident."

Maybe Harry wasn't completely wrong, though I would never say so out loud. As I glared back without answering Harry's tone then changed as he leaned over:

"Now, are you going to tell me how you got out of the basement? Or do I have to ask with my belt?"

I cold shiver ran up my spine. Although I was responsible for Marvin's injury and knew I might deserve some punishment, I wasn't ready to face Harry's belt. I raked my brains, but couldn't come up with a brand new escape plan on the fly.

Hating myself every step of the way, I reached into the strike box and handed Harry the eraser. His initial puzzlement was replaced with a glint of admiration as he put my plan back together.

"You walked back the deadbolt? With the blade?

– Yeah.

– Show me."

By Harry's tone, I understood that I had better get this right, or I would really get the belt. I swallowed hard and placed the eraser at the back the strike box. This time, I made sure it was well in place. Harry and I then stepped into the basement. He locked the door and crossed his arms.

"Well, go ahead, unlock the door."

I steadied my hand and felt for the deadbolt with the blade. It was easier this time, maybe because I knew I could do it. I didn't drop the blade once! When the door popped open a few minutes later, I couldn't help but be proud of myself. I quickly lost my smile when I looked at Harry, waiting for his reaction.

"Where'd you learn to do that?" was all he said after a long pause.

"TV.

– You've been listening to too many goddam things on TV." Harry said, drumming his fingers on the tape of my parent's recording.

He didn't say anything else, making me nervous.

"Are you going to punish me now?"

– Would that help? Cause I thought we had put this running away behind us. That with time, you'd come around. But here we are, with Marv and I stuck cleaning up your mess. Again. We can't keep doing that."

Harry stared long and hard at me.

"Am I wasting my time with you, kid? Are we going to do this forever?"

I straightened up.

"Not forever, no; one of these days, you're going to make a mistake and I will escape. So you might as well break every bone in my body, cause no matter what you do, no matter what you say, I'll always keep trying to get away!"

Is what I wish I had said.

It would've been ballsy. Stupid, but ballsy. I bit back the retort, and stared defiantly back at Harry. Somehow, I think he got the gist.

"Or should I just save myself the trouble. Listen to my brothers and get rid of you?"

Harry didn't need to spell out his threat; I understood what he meant. Strangely, it didn't frighten me.

"If you could do it, you would've done it already." I stated with calm and absolute certainty.

Probably not what Harry wanted to hear, but I knew it was true. Harry would not kill me. Not now, not ever. If he were ever going to kill me, he would've done it that night he held a gun to my head.

No, Harry wouldn't kill me, but that didn't mean he was above hurting me. I had therefore prepared myself for his anger, a slap, a punch, something. Instead, Harry just stayed where he was, studying me, deep in thoughts. That weird look he sometimes had was back, making me uneasy. His fits of rage were less unnerving than that cold calculating look. Then, as quickly as it had appeared, Harry's thoughtful look disappeared, replaced by a cunning smile that put me on edge. Harry was up to something.

"So, I guess we'll have work extra hard to keep this family together, huh?"

Family? I thought nervously. Harry still intended to keep this charade up? After I shot Marvin? Could we even call ourselves "family" anymore?

"Come on, kid; let go.

– Go? Where?

– Upstairs."

Upstairs? That didn't make sense! I had expected Harry to roll out my punishment by now. I swallowed my questions and followed him. We first stopped by the liquor cabinet to retrieve a bottle of Tequila, than Harry led me to the first floor. We passed the bedroom and office and entered the bathroom where we found Marvin.

I watched Marvin shyly from the doorway. I wasn't sure how I would be welcomed. He was sitting, eyes closed, on edge of the bathtub. He was taking deep breaths as he held a compress to his arm. His coat and shirt lay on the floor, covered in packages and crumbled bloody bills. The first aid kit was open on the counter, its content spilled over and there were used gauze pads in the sink.

When Harry and I entered the room, Marvin opened his eyes.

"About time!" he sighed. Upon spotting me behind his partner, he added, "Hey, why'd you bring the little fucker up here?"

Marvin had every right to me angry with me, but I was still hurt by the insult. He was usually so playful and patient with me, but everybody has their limits, even Marvin.

"Come on, Marv; don't be like that. The kid said he was sorry." Harry said, pulling the cork from the Tequila bottle before handling it to his partner.

"Hey, who got shot here!

– Yet you're still talking; it can't be that bad." Harry replied as he washed his hand.

– Easy for you to say, it hurts like a motherfucker." Marvin mumbled before taking a deep gulp of liquor straight from the bottle.

I stood by nervously, unsure what I was supposed to do, until Harry finished washing his hands.

"Come here, kid."

I didn't want to get too close, but Harry grabbed me by the arm and dragged me till I was standing next to Marvin. He didn't hurt, me, but his grip was hard enough to let me know I wasn't off the hook. He handed me a flashlight.

"Hold this. Hold it high." he said. "Let's see what we're dealing with."

Holding the flashlight. I could do that, no problem! Easy peasy! That was until Harry removed the compress from Marvin's arm. I felt the blood drain from my face. Real gunshot wounds are not like what you see in the movies or on TV. Bullets don't make neat little holes, they don't slice the skin as a blade would, but tear through it. Bullets wounds are messy and unforgiving. Under different circumstances, the ten-year-old boy I was might've been impressed by the wound, or at least pretended to be. Given that I was responsible for the ugly injury, all I felt was a mix of repulsion and guilt.

Marvin's bicep had taken most of the damage. The bleeding from the deep gash that dug into his arm had lessened, but to me, any blood was too much blood. Harry later told me it had been lucky that the bullet had hit the outside of Marvin's arm and not the inside, as that was where a major artery ran. No matter how many horror movies I had watched with Marvin, I had no stomach for real blood and averted my eyes.

"Light, kid; I need light!" Harry rebuked me. "Don't be a wuss and stop shaking!"

I hadn't realized I was shaking until Harry remarked upon it. I straightened up and did my best to steady the light. Harry proceeded to clean the flesh around the wound and inspect it. My eyes went from Marvin's face, who, when he wasn't drinking from the tequila bottle, scowled at the wall in front of him, to Harry's hands as he worked.

"Good news Marv; it's a through and through, so I won't need to fish for the bullet.

– Hurray!" grumbled Marvin who took another gulp of Tequila.

"But you know the wound's too deep to heal by itself…

– I know the drill! Stitches. Just get on with it."

I sort had to admire his cool at the prospect of getting stitches. Marvin didn't even ask for the pill Harry had given me to numb the pain! Then again, he was downing straight Tequila… Marvin also had plenty of scars, so maybe acquiring a new one didn't bother him so much. From the scar that ran around one of his elbows, to the crescent moon one on his chin hidden by his beard, and the criss-crossed ones on his back, Marvin's body was no stranger to stitches.

Harry finished cleaning the wound. He applied some antibiotic and a thin layer of gel around it. He then grabbed his needles from their emergency kit to sterilize it. I remembered how he had done the same before stitching my forehead and shuddered at the memory.

"Kid, I need you to watch me as I do this." Harry then told me.

"Do I have to?

– Yes, you do. You owe Marv that much."

Shame kept me for arguing. I felt sick watching how the skin was gaping around Marvin's wound, but I did feel I owe him that respect. It seemed fair. But then Harry added:

"You also need to watch, cause I'll do the first stitches, and you'll do the rest.

Marvin had lost some blood, and had already drunk a considerable amount of Tequila, but he was by no means deaf.

"Wait, what? You want him to do it? He doesn't even know how to sew a button, let alone how to do stitches!"

I was with Marvin on this one. I did not want to poke his arm with a needle. I was queasy just thinking about it.

"First time for everything." insisted Harry as he finished sterilizing a needle. "Go wash your hands."

Me? Doing stitches? What was Harry thinking! I wasn't a doctor! I couldn't do it. I just couldn't!

"I can't do that!"

To my surprise, Harry smirked:

"Kid, you've proven time and again that you can do anything you set your mind to. You'll do fine. I'll be right here next to you.

– But I-

– No buts! We're family. We take care of each other. Besides, don't you think it's about time you start pulling your weight around here?"

And that was the moment. The moment Harry finally figured out a place for me in their lives, a place that would ultimately ensure I would never be able to escape, even if I'd wanted to.

Looking back, I can see how Harry took my education well in hand following that disastrous day. Of course, he didn't spell out his intentions. He took his time, taking it one step at a time. I didn't see it coming, could not see what he was playing at.

The devil truly is in the details.

AN:

Finally! I'm where I wanted to be!

Can you believe the last 1000 words or so are the very first I wrote for this story? That was over three years ago! But now it's done. Our trio's relationship has clearly been established, it's time to get to the fun part!

When I first drafted this chapter, I wasn't sure how Harry and Marvin would come upon Kevin once he had escaped. The answer came to me as I rewatched the original movie. I love that scene where Harry almost runs Kevin over. It tells that, although Harry and Marvin are criminals, they don't want to hurt a child. As for Kevin, from what we see in Home Alone 2, he always had a little problem with looking both ways before crossing the street, leading him to be yelled at by truck drivers, so I thought it was in character.

Some of you did get elements of his chapter right. Someone did get shot, but it wasn't Kevin (sorry dear Guest). I know many of you can't wait for them to go to New York and for Kevin to meet Charlie, but we still have a way to go before getting there. Harry will want to be proud of his protégé before introducing him to his favourite brother, so Kevin's criminal talent still needs some work. I mean, he hasn't even picked anyone's pocket yet!

As always, all of you take good care of yourselves and I hope to update soon!