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Water was boiling on Stove. Tyler stood with his head tilted to the side as his daddy watched the steam float up to Skylight. He shifted uncomfortably on his feet and shook his head. "I don't get it…" he admitted.
Daddy was still very focused on the water but he replied, "We're gonna make your face so hot that Spider will have ta take you to the hospital." Turning to him, Tyler's daddy looked more awake than the child could ever remember him. "N' when you get inside, all the way inside, the first doctor or nurse you see, you yell 'Help! Police!'"
Glancing over to the door with unease, Tyler bit his lip. Daddy grabbed a cloth from the counter. "Maybe next year, when I'm six."
His daddy shook his head. "No. Tonight," he said, looking back at him. "I'm the daddy. Sometimes I gotta make decisions for the both of us."
That wasn't fair. At least not to Tyler. But he didn't want to admit to Daddy that he was scared or nervous. Daddy said he had to be careful, that this was their only chance. The world sounded interesting, but Tyler liked Room. He knew that Spider had stolen his daddy, but that wasn't Room's fault. Room was their home.
Soon enough, though, Daddy had picked him up the armpits and carried him back to Bed, pulling the covers over him and tucking him in snug. Daddy was so much stronger than him. Race wondered if he'd ever be able to get that strong.
His daddy rushed back over to Stove and turned it off, taking some oven mitts and carrying the pot closer with the cloth over his shoulder. Racer gasped when the cloth went into the pot and then touched his face. It was burning. "Ow!" he cried, tears building up in his eyes and he wondered why on earth Daddy was doing this. "Stop it!"
Jack shushed his son. "Hey, shhhhh, it's okay… remember what we talked about. Go floppy and get tired. We need Spider ta think you're sick," he coached softly. The sun had just set. They didn't have too much longer. Jack used the cloth to dab hot water over his baby's skin and make a mess of his curly blond hair. "Shhhh… it's okay…"
The innocent, small child whimpered and tried to turn his face away as Jack continued to dab at his face. That pale skin began to turn red in no time and Jack's heart broke. Still, he didn't stop. "Daddy…" the boy whined, trying to push his hands away. Jack didn't stop. He just hushed his son again and kissed his chest.
The young man glanced over to the door, a trembling breath leaving his lips. "Stay floppy. You're gonna stay floppy n' you're not gonna move 'r say a word. You're too weak, okay?"
A small sob escaped Race and he tried to hide under the blanket as Jack continued to dab at his skin. Without warning, the man stuck his fingers into his mouth, forcing himself to gag and choke. He spit and threw up just a bit onto his hand before he rubbed the substance onto the pillow beside his son. "Ew!" the child sobbed, confused and horrified and so scared. "What are you doin'?! Stop it!"
"I'm sorry, baby, but I gotta make ya smell sick," Jack said, a bit more urgently than he intended to. So many emotions were whirling around inside of him and he couldn't keep up. His heart was pounding against his chest and there wasn't a thing he could do to stop it. "Hey, show me what you're gonna do when ta get ta the hospital. Show me the note," he pleaded, brushing the child's hair back. The kid felt like he was burning up. "Come on, Tyler, you can do it."
With a tiny, trembling hand, Race did as he was told. He reached into his pocket from beneath the blanket and held out a small piece of paper. He didn't know what it said. Jack had written it before he'd boiled the water. But when he reached for the small thing, something fell off of it. "What's this?" he breathed, reaching down for the small white thing that turned out to be his own tooth, the one that he'd given to Race a few days ago. A ghost of a smile passed across his lips before it disappeared again. "Look…" Taking the small boy's hand in his own, Jack curled those little fingers around the bad tooth. "Now you have a little part of me with you. Always," he promised.
Then he went back to dabbing the boy's skin as the child whined and whimpered, squirming beneath the cloth. "I don't wanna go! I wanna stay with Daddy!" he begged, trying to reach out for Jack.
Jack gently guided the boy's arms back down and helped place the note and the tooth back in Tyler's pocket. "Shhhh, it's alright, kid, it's okay. You remember what I said," the young man pleaded. "You do exactly as I said, n' we'll be okay. I'll be with you when it's over, alright?"
Shaking his head, the child groaned. "I ain't ready—"
"Yes you are, Tyler James. You're ready… you can do this," Jack promised. His boy whimpered and Jack just continued to try and make him look sick until his watch beeped. "C'mon, c'mon…" he muttered. The anticipation could've killed him. "You're doin' good, baby, that's so good." Brushing the boy's hair back, Jack kissed his burning forehead. "You got a little bit a' me, n' you got a little bit of your Uncle Specs, n' you got your strong," he encouraged, referring to the boy's hair.
Sniffling, the boy tried to snuggle close to Jack even though Jack was squatting down beside the bed rather than sitting on it. When he couldn't quite hide in the young man's chest, the child sobbed quietly. "I'm scared…"
Those words dug deep into Jack's chest. "I know," he responded, leaning his forehead down on top of Tyler's.
For a long moment, they were quiet. Jack prayed to the heavens, to any higher being that might've been listening to just help this go right.
But he knew that if someone was up there, they'd stopped listening a long time ago.
An eternity passed by before something Jack could hear the code begin to be punched in from the outside. He gasped, immediately shooting to his feet and shoving the pot of boiled water under his bed. He hid his mouth behind his hands and almost rushed to the door before stopping himself. He hadn't felt this much adrenaline in a long time.
Almost six years.
The door scraped open and Spider walked in. Forgetting the rules, Jack let himself be frantic. "Finally!" he cried, tears rushing down his face as the stress pulled him down.
Spider glared at him. "Hey!" he growled, slamming the door shut behind him. "You know the rules. Not a sound until the door's shut!"
"I'm sorry," Jack whined. "Tyler's sick." The words hurt to say. He forced himself to believe it for just a second.
The old man looked him over. "What?"
"You cut the power!" Jack cried, sure to stand in between his son and this horrible old man. "It was freezin'!"
Trying to inspect the child from over Jack's shoulder, Spider rolled his eyes. "You had that comin' after what tried ta pull!"
"Well, I couldn't keep him warm n' now he's burnin' up n' shakin'!" Jack cried. In another life, he would've made a hell of an actor. That's what Specs used to say.
Irritated and more than annoyed, Spider sighed. "Just give him some of those painkillers I left you—"
"I tried!" Jack gestured to the bed where his own vomit stained the pillow. "He just keeps puking them up." His voice was broken and hoarse. He stood in front of the bed, not liking that Spider was trying to step around him and reach for the child. "Don't," he tried, only for a hand to grab at his shirt and pull him away. The young man's back hit the wall. He sobbed. "Don't!"
"Shut up!" Spider snapped, cuffing a hand over Tyler's forehead as the boy gasped and tried to curl away from him. His whole body trembled beneath the touch. "Stay still," he ordered. The boy flinched. Jack resisted the urge to rush towards him, not wanting to make any of this worse. This had to work. It had to. "Jesus, he's on fire," the old man hissed.
Jack sniffled and stepped closer to his son. "H-he's too small… he needs real medication."
Sighing and shaking his head in annoyance, Spider rested his hands on his hips and licked his lips. "Okay… I'll bring him something stronger tomorrow—"
"No! He's five years old!" Jack cried. "He's dehydrated! His body can't fight this off! He needs antibiotics!"
"And you'll get them!" Spider shot back, heading back over to the door. "Tomorrow!"
Jack's heart dropped. Spider was leaving. Just like that. Jack's little boy could be dying and Spider didn't care. "Wait, stop! He needs to go to the E.R. tonight! He's never been this sick before! He needs a doctor!"
"I'll see you tomorrow, Kelly," Spider sighed, disappointed in the turn of events as he shoved Jack down to the ground and punched in the code to the door.
Shoving himself back up, Jack tried to stop the door from slamming shut. "Wait, no! Stop-!" He was too late. The door slammed right in front of him. "You bastard!" he sobbed, pounding his fist against the door like he'd done so many times before. "Please…"
The man was not coming back. Jack was trapped still in Room, someone's prisoner and hardly anything more.
The fire that had built back up inside him, the one that had been cold for so long, was beginning to fade again. He didn't want to let it. For the first time in years he'd felt real again. For the first time since his baby was born.
Walking back to the bed, wiping the tears away, Jack gently lay down and curled around his little boy, holding him and trying to forget about what he'd been trying to do.
But that feeling that should've been completely squashed was still inside of him.
The need to get out.
"Am I still goin'?" Tyler whimpered, taking quick, terrified gasps of air, almost hyperventilating.
Jack sighed and pressed a kiss to the child's hair. "No… not tonight…" he breathed, trying to not give away how hard he was struggling not to break down again.
He just held his baby until he fell asleep.
"It's okay…" he promised. "It's okay…"
It wasn't okay. Things hadn't been okay in a long time.
It didn't take long for Racer to pass out after Jack switched the lamp off. The stress of everything that had happened that day caught up with the child quickly and Jack hoped he hadn't made his son truly sick. He held him for a long time before he slipped off of the bed and sat at the table.
This couldn't be it. That couldn't have been the only plan he could come up with. He'd never been the smart one. He was just clever, good at getting out of situations on the spot because his instincts would kick in. This was the first time he couldn't talk himself out of something, the first time he couldn't fist his way to the surface or skirt around something. It was the first time he truly didn't know what to do. For six years he'd had no idea what to do.
Sure, he'd done his best to keep his son safe. Tyler was all he had. He'd done his best to preserve that boy's innocence. He'd tried to make the kid a heavy sleeper, shining the lamp in his face at night while prompting him to go back to sleep. He'd led Race to believe they were living in some kind of post-apocalyptic world where they were the only two people that existed and Spider was some kind of alien that was helping them out. He'd told the child again and again that they were in a safe place, that no one could get to them, when the truth was that Tyler James had been born a prisoner.
He just didn't know it.
That innocence was already at risk. The child was five and Spider still didn't seem to understand what he was doing to the boy.
Jack stared up at the skylight. He still couldn't see the stars. He was in New York. He was in New York City, the place where he'd grown up, the place where he'd been abandoned, the place where he and his brother had been fostered and adopted, the place where he ran through the streets feeling invincible and free even if he wanted so badly to see the rest of the world. He knew his baby would want to see it too, if he only knew what it truly was.
Tears began to fall silently down Jack's face as he just watched the sky. He couldn't keep living like this. Tyler couldn't keep living like this. He tried to make himself go numb again, move through each and every day like this was it, like there was nothing else out there, but the thoughts wouldn't leave him alone, the terror of what would happen when Race actually grew up. The last person who'd grown up with The Spider around to take care of them had ended up going crazy, believing every word that old man said to be the truth and believing everything else to be a lie.
Sometimes it scared Jack how much Tyler looked like Amelia, her blond hair and striking blue eyes forever a part of him. Jack always tried to focus on the one thing he knew the boy had gotten from him.
His baby had his smile. Tyler had such a carefree smile and a pure laugh and a strong heart and if he grew up in Room, it would all be taken away.
Race would go numb just like Jack had. And Jack couldn't let that happen.
The tears fell faster now as an idea coursed through Jack's head. His face screwed up in pure sorrow as he knew what he had to do.
Getting out didn't matter to him.
Getting Tyler out was all that needed to be done.
Jack pressed his hand over his lips tightly, holding back the sobs that threatened to escape him and squeezing his eyes shut as he cried. The plan hit him hard. He only let out a small whine as he glared up at the sky.
He was the clever one.
He just hoped his mama was right.
"Do you remember that story I told you a long time ago?" Jack asked Tyler in the morning as the boy quietly munched away at his cereal, clearly still shaken by the night before. "The one about the Trojan Horse?" Tyler looked up at him, waiting for him to continue. "You remember how… how those soldiers pretended to surrender and flee and convinced Troy that the war was over?" A small nod was all the response Tyler could give. "Yeah… then the soldiers hid in the wooden horse until the Trojans took it inside because they thought it was a gift and Odysseus and his men jumped out and won the war…"
Those big blue eyes looked up at him, wide and frightened. The child was still confused, still not fully grasping the situation. Jack never wanted him to. "It was just a trick," Race stated.
Letting out a breath, Jack nodded. "Well… that's what you're gonna do…"
The little boy didn't say a word. It was so unlike him to be this quiet and Jack couldn't do anything about it. He didn't have time to coax the boy into this. It was what needed to be done.
It was their last chance.
"You understand how… how that's even cleverer than playin' sick? Because you're gonna…" Jack swallowed hard at the mere thought of saying these words out loud, hardly able to fathom the idea. "You're gonna… play dead…" The young man did all he could do to keep a straight, calm face. He swallowed hard and watched his son go stiff.
It was early in the morning. The sun wasn't up yet. Jack needed to hurry. If Spider was going to come back with medicine, if he thought Tyler was so sick that he couldn't wait till his normal visit, he'd come early. It's not like he had other things to do other than sit around on his ass and get off on the thought of the two innocent people he had locked in a cage in his backyard.
Jack felt sick.
Standing from his chair, the man held his hand out of his baby and the child took it cautiously. Jack led him to sit on the floor before he shoved the small table to the side of Room and made sure that the rug was completely exposed before sitting down across from the boy. Blinking back the tears in his eyes, Jack cupped his hands around Tyler's cheeks. "We're gonna…" he paused, taking a deep breath to calm himself. "We're gonna roll you up in Rug s-so that when Spider comes, he can't see you. He won't see that you're alive inside…"
"I don't wanna be dead," Tyler whispered.
Sniffling and quickly wiping away the tear that had begun to fall, Jack shook his head. "That's okay, because you're just gonna be pretendin'," he assured his boy shakily. "We're gonna roll you up, n' you're not gonna go floppy like last night, you're gonna get real stiff like…" Jack fished for some kind of example. "Like a robot, yeah? You're not gonna make a sound. N' Spider's gonna come in n' take you out an' put you in his truck… and he's gonna…" Jack bit his chapped lips for a moment, trying to think of some way to explain. "He's gonna find a place ta lay you down…"
Quickly shaking his head, the boy pulled away. "No…"
"Mhm," Jack countered. "But it's okay because you're gonna wiggle out n' you're gonna run like the little racer you are n' you're gonna get help, yeah?"
Still scared and confused, the child didn't respond. Jack brought his son close to his chest and kissed his hair, brushing the long curls down the boy's back. This was the only shot they had.
As carefully as he could, Jack picked Racer back up and laid him down at the edge of the rug. "We're gonna practice, okay? You can do this… you still got the note?" he asked. His son nodded, his watery blue eyes staring up at him. "Okay. Go stiff, baby. Stiff like a robot." The child tried to do as he was told. And Jack laid the edge of the rug over the kid's small body. Then he rolled the boy up all the way to the other end. "Okay, now… Spider's gonna pick you up," Jack called to the child he could no longer see. He picked up the rug like he assumed the old man would when he came back. "And he's gonna put you in his truck n' it's gonna feel shaky, like this." He shook the rug a bit and then put it back down with a grunt. He didn't have the strength that he used to. "That's when you know it's time to roll." He moved out of the way of the rug. "Roll, Tyler!"
The boy tried. It was slow going, but he still tried.
"Roll, roll, roll! C'mon, you can do it!" By the gasps of air Jack could hear, he knew the child was panicking. So he helped him just a little bit, unable to stop himself until Race was at the very end. "Wiggle! Wiggle, wiggle!"
"I can't!" the boy screamed. "Daddy, I can't! I'm stuck!"
Jack shook his head. "No you ain't. Wiggle yourself out! You can do it!" The child managed with great difficulty and Jack rushed to help him up. "Okay! That was good, you did good, Racer! That was so good! We're gonna try it again—"
"No! I don't wanna do that again!" Tyler yelled, trying to be defiant.
The young man wasn't listening. If he listened, he would give in. "We're gonna make Rug shorter this time. There won't be as many turns." He folded the ugly rug in on itself just a little before standing back to his feet. "Okay, lay down," he ordered gently, pointing to the folded.
Though he looked terrified, Race did as he was told. Jack adjusted him a little bit and took his wrists, guiding the boy's hands to his face. "Like this, alright?" He rolled Tyler up again, telling him over and over again to stay stiff. "Okay, good, that's good. Okay, you're in the truck, kid. Roll!" To Jack's honest surprise, Tyler managed to roll fairly quickly, but every time he stopped, Jack continued to cry out, "Roll, Tyler! Roll, roll, roll!" because Race couldn't stop. He had to be quick and quiet and smart. The five year old rolled and wiggled as hard as he could until he was out. And Jack let out a breath of a laugh. "Yes, Tyler!"
The boy wasn't listening. "I hate you!" he screamed at the top of his lungs. The anger only lasted for a single moment before the tears came.
Sobering at that, Jack rushed to his baby. "Okay… okay…" he soothed, pulling Tyler into his lap and rocking him back and forth in his arms. "Okay, I know, I'm sorry, but I need you ta get this… I'm sorry…" the boy continued to cry, shaking and gasping for air. "Hey… hey…" Jack coaxed, shushing the child softly and letting him cry for a long moment before he began speaking again. "Once upon a time, I was all alone," he began. "I would sit n' watch TV f'r hours… until I was a zombie." The words began to calm his son. This was familiar. This was normal to him. He loved this story. "But one day, an alien sent you down from heaven." Tyler sniffled and melted back into his chest, making Jack just want to curl up and hold him forever. "I caught you before you could fall n' I said, 'Hello, Tyler James… I'm your daddy n' you're my baby,' n' then I gave you all the love I had left in my heart so's you could be happy…" Looking down at the boy, Jack's throat tightened. He brushed the tears off of the child's face, refusing to cry himself. "You made me real again…"
It took a long while for the tears to dry and the boy to hug his daddy. Light peaked in from the skylight and Jack hugged his little boy tighter somehow, not wanting to let go for even a second. "Tell me again…?" Tyler asked. "What do I do?"
Pressing his lips to his baby's temple, Jack took a trembling breath. "We're gonna roll you up in Rug, and you're gonna go stiff as a board," he relayed calmly. "Then Spider is gonna pick you up and put you in his truck. When you feel it shakin', when you feel Spider driving, you know he's busy, so you wiggle out n' wait for the truck to slow down at the first stop sign. Then you jump out and get somebody's attention and yell 'help!'" Jack explained as slowly and steadily as he could. Tyler sighed against him. "It goes truck, wiggle out, jump, run, somebody… can ya say that?"
"Truck, wiggle out, jump, run, somebody…" Tyler repeated.
"That's right," Jack whispered.
The sun was rising now. Spider could be coming back soon. The sad truth was, Jack didn't actually know. But he sniffled anyway and helped Tyler lay back down on Rug. Jack was ready to roll him up at any minute. "Alright…"
The small child rubbed at his eyes. "What if Spider unrolls me?"
"He won't," Jack promised. "He won't…"
"Are you gonna be there?"
Swallowing hard, Jack held back a whimper. "I-I'm gonna be in your head, telling you what ta do, okay? Can ta tell me what you're gonna do?"
Tyler nodded. "Truck, wiggle out, jump—"
"You wait for the first stop sign before ya jump," Jack whispered slowly. "The truck is gonna come to a slow," he said, using his hand to show the boy. "And a stop. Then you jump… and then what?"
"Jump… run… somebody." Jack wasn't sure he'd ever heard this boy so quiet and anxious before. "Who's Somebody?"
"Anybody," Jack answered, shrugging. "It's the first person you see."
"A real-live person?"
Playing with those long blond curls, Jack nodded. "Yeah… you run up ta the first person you see n' you give 'em the note n' you say 'My daddy is Jack Kelly'." Tyler sighed and stared up at his daddy's face. Jack could only stare back, trying not to sob. The chances of this whole thing actually working were slim. The chances of someone seeing Race and trying to help him, weren't.
But there were so many things that could go wrong and Jack knew that the last priority was going to be finding him. He knew that.
Reaching down, Jack found the small charm on the string necklace that still hung around Tyler's neck. He squeezed it tight. "Do you have Bad Tooth?"
Tyler nodded. "He's in here so I don't lose him," he said, pointing to the back of his mouth.
All Jack could do was let out a small chuckle. He couldn't stop the tears after that, but he forced himself to keep a reassuring smile on his face. "You're incredible…" he breathed, studying every inch of his baby's face. He took in every detail, never wanting to forget what he looked like. "I'm always gonna be with you… not matta' what happens… I'm gonna be with ya, okay?" he forced out, feeling an odd kind of pressure build up in his chest.
"Okay," Tyler whimpered.
Just for one moment longer, Jack stared. He loved this child more than life itself. He never thought it possible to love someone so much, to be so terrified every single day of losing that person, to have only them on his mind every minute of every day. But the thought of Tyler getting out of this place, of never having to live through what he had lived through, was enough for Jack to know that he had to do this. He had no other choice. "You're gonna love it…" he whispered, unable to speak up anymore than that.
Looking up at him so purely, filled to the brim with curiosity and wonder, the boy asked, "what?"
With tears streaming down his face and his voice fading more and more, Jack thumbed at his son's cheek. "The world…" he breathed. "The swing at the house with Grandma and Grandpa and Uncle Specs—"
"And you…"
Jack swallowed hard, sniffling as he knew that this child wouldn't leave if he knew the truth. So he nodded. "Y-yeah…" he forced himself to say. He couldn't tell if Tyler believed him or not. But it didn't matter. For the last time, Jack curled around his baby, holding him gently, twisting those precious curls between his fingers. "I love you, my little Tyler James… so much you wouldn't even believe…" he whispered.
Tyler lay still on the rug, staring up at the ceiling as his daddy hugged him. He didn't move.
They stayed there for an hour. Maybe more. Jack didn't know. He just knew that he couldn't relax. He couldn't fall asleep. He had to be ready.
And when he heard that bang against the door, his heart just about stopped beating.
He gasped, sitting up fast and rolling his son up in that rug as quickly as he could. The tears were rolling down his cheeks and he couldn't stop them. He just kept going as those six beeps sounded above him. "I'm sorry!" he whispered as his son grunted. "Shhhhh! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Tyler! You can do this!" he encouraged, "You can do this…"
The door scraped open.
This was one performance that Jack didn't have to fake.
The young man sobbed as Spider walked in. He hunched himself over the rug and cried. "I have antibiotics and… what are you doing?"
Jack didn't answer right away. He just kept crying as the door shut. His baby was quiet. He was doing so good. "I…" He sniffled, shaking his head. "H-he didn't wake up… I got him ta fall asleep n'... he didn't wake up…"
With a heavy sigh, Spider set his bag down on the counter. "Oh you poor boy…" he breathed. "It must've been worse than I thought—"
Without warning, Jack picked himself up, throwing his fists against Spider's chest in agony. "You killed him, you bastard!" he cried, fighting for only a moment as Spider seized his wrists. Jack just leaned his forehead against the man's stomach, feeling completely destroyed. "You killed my baby…"
Spider was clearly at a loss for what to do. So he let Jack go and watched the boy curl back around the rug. "Are you sure?" he asked.
Bitterly, Jack glared back at him. "Am I sure?!" he growled, his face red with anger and despair. But the bitterness left him quickly as sorrow took over again. He sobbed.
Pacing behind him, Spider shook his head. He reached down for the rug. "Why don't you let me take a look—?"
"Don't touch him!" Jack demanded, shoving that hand away and shielding his son with all the strength he had. "Don't touch him…"
"Fine…" Spider surrendered. "He… he can't stay here…" he tried to explain calmly, as though Jack wouldn't understand.
"Wh-Where are you gonna take him?" the young man breathed, terror taking him over as he began to tremble.
Spider shook his head. "I don't know… I'm trying to think—"
"It can't be here," Jack said. "I… I can't… please don't… It can't be here…"
"Okay…"
Jack squeezed his eyes shut and sobbed even harder, trying to forget about what would happen next, trying to think about his son in his brother's arms, making cookies for Christmas with his mama and his pop. "S-somewhere nice… with trees n' grass… please…" he begged.
A hand came down on his shoulder. Jack tensed. "Fine. A nice place with trees where he can rest," Spider promised.
But Jack wasn't done yet. "Don't look at him… you have ta swear ta me that you won't lay your filthy eyes on him!" he shouted. "Swear it!" His throat was already beginning to go raw.
"I swear," the old man bit out, clearly irritated. "I'm gonna take him now—"
"Be gentle with him, please be gentle—" Jack begged as he was thrown aside.
He turned to watch his captor lift his son up off of the ground. He felt his breath leave him when he saw those big blue eyes looking back at him from that rug as it was carried to the door. In one last attempt to free himself he tried to watch Spider punch in the numbers. Spider noticed. "Turn around! Eyes to the wall!" he demanded. Jack hesitated, wanting to tell his son that he loved him one more time. But Spider didn't care. "Turn around now!" the man ordered.
And Jack did as he was told, hugging himself around his torso as he heard those six beeps and the buzz and the scraping of the door against the floor. He felt light headed, but he didn't move. Not till he heard the door shut.
The slam made Jack flinch as he squeezed his eyes shut tightly. For a moment he didn't even notice that he wasn't breathing. It was like all the air had been sucked out of Room right along with his little boy.
Jack had never experienced anything like this feeling. He couldn't breathe. He could move. Not for a long time. Eventually he turned, staring wide eyed at the door that stood between him and everything else.
That's when Jack screamed.
His legs went weak as he did so, threatening to lay him on the ground before he stumbled forward, hitting his fist against the door as hard as he could before letting his palms just hit the cold metal in desperation. It was nothing compared to the physical pain he felt as reality set over him. He couldn't get to his son. "Wait!" he screamed. "Come back! Don't take him! Tyler!" He tried to pry the door open, knowing there was no handle or knob to twist.
His brain could not comprehend what he had just done as it quickly calculated every small thing that could go wrong.
"Tyler!"
But it was too late to turn back now.
Jack melted against the door and sobbed, willing himself to go numb again as he wailed and looked around.
There was so much more than Room. There was a house and a swing and Mama and Pop and Spencer.
But this was Room.
Room was not his Refuge.
Room was his prison.
As always, thanks for reading! Make sure to tell me what you liked, what you didn't like, what you'd change or what you'd improve by leaving me a review! Love ya, friends!