Metallseele
Chapter 4: You came on the wrong party, hon
Crickets were chirping outside, blending with the tranquility of Brad's room, adding to the atmosphere of drowsiness and imagination while Stephen reads his brother another bedtime story for the second time that night. And the older brother was very frustrated on Brad's unsleepy face as his voice tried to lull him to no avail.
Finally annoyed, Stephen closed the book irritably and looked steadily at his brother, who, at that time was staring aimlessly at the foot of the bed.
"And what exactly bothers you this time?" Stephen asked a bit angry, due to the evident fact that his efforts are all just going to waste.
Brad looked up, amber eyes not catching the light of the lampshade, resulting to the blank effect of his eyes. "I'm sorry," he managed to mutter through half-lidded eyes, locked on a point somewhere on the bed.
"Don't tell me you see things again. If Mom would know this, she'll doubtlessly send you to the asylum soon..."
This time, Brad's eyes became attentive to Stephen. "Mom? Where is she? I thought she'd be here tonight..."
Stephen's gray eyes darted somewhere in the room, and rested on the dresser opposite the bed. His chocolate hair, now combed, cascaded down his forehead in a neat manner, partly covering his right eye. "I dunno... most probably at work."
The older brother always knew it was a good lie, which Stephen naturally detested to do, but this time, Brad's gaze never left his brother's direction. Stephen felt it and returned the stare.
"What?" he spat, and was surprised to see Brad's usually fair expression with innocence transferred by pain and sadness, which awfully resembles Stephen's usual expression. "What is it?" Stephen asked again, when he gained no response from the child in question.
"But tomorrow's my birthday..." he replied quietly, resuming his stare on the mattress. Raven hair brushed his eyes a little, highlighting the dull amber of his eyes' hue.
Stephen sighed when his heart missed a beat, and opened the bedtime story book once again, readying his most lulling voice to the reading. However, when he did resume, Brad's eyes never lost the sadness, which troubled the 'good' part of Stephen's personality. Nevertheless, he continued the reading until Bradley's eyes dropped, finally falling asleep.
Sighing contentedly, Stephen discreetly closed the book and placed it neatly on top of the bedside table, knowing that the child would need it the night after this. He was partly worried about his mother, and probably there will be another issue on the living room Drama Theater once again.
And perhaps, it will never cease this time, Stephen thought, finally closing the door and settling himself on top of the stairs, starting to get really comfortable.
Moments later, the door opened, signaling the start of the show. Alan's footsteps rang throughout the living room, and a stiletto sandal echoed as well, the arrival of Courtney. Whispered conversations tuned out as bass, and Stephen was indulging it like a 7th Heaven show in the late timeslot.
"Courtney! Your son was vainly waiting for you, I hope you are aware of that!" Alan finally shouted, his calm demeanor once again destroyed. A silent chuckle followed the heated remark. But Stephen's mother didn't reply, and was just replaced by an angry statement from Alan yet again.
"You know! You're - you're sober enough to know that tomorrow is your son's birthday! What IS wrong with you?" a second of silence then a resounding slap as Stephen jumped from his seat, his imagination going overboard. Wide gray eyes stared at the foot of the stairs.
"How dare you accuse me of not remembering! Of course, how could I ever slip it from my mind? You're the only one being invisible from all these preparations I've been going through! For your information, Alan Crawford, I've been out late not because of business, not because of your rotten suspicions, but because of giving out invitations and arranging the catering service! Nothing is wrong with me, Alan, but you're just a hypocrite to see it all!" Courtney's heaving was heard and then sobs. "Goddamn, why are you like this, Alan?"
"Because sometimes you're a big hypocrite than you think I am and a selfish woman, Courtney. You should see that," Alan retorted icily, then stomped out of the living room to his study.
"NO! Because you just fucking care about yourself!" Courtney yelled, still sobbing heavily. Stephen's chest constricted as he felt his mother's pain. Sometimes he wanted to go there in the living room and comfort his mother; however, he was still frightened of what reaction they might give him. Who would take the courage of comforting a mother who evidently doesn't like the one willing?
Stephen got up from his seat, eyes staring unfocused at space. He felt his hands trembling and instead closed it in fists so the shaking would terminate, for he believes it only mirrors his weakness over a simple situation that he had been long accustomed to. Yet his fears were deteriorating him, fear for his brother's expectations to his promised great birthday. His mother, earlier, was stable enough emotionally, however his father's remarks triggered fury over the couple, and perhaps tomorrow, it might be the worse that the little child least expected.
Stealthily, he walked to his room, discreetly closing the door, despite the fact that their parents weren't in the position to care for them now. He flopped onto his bed, realizing it was already midnight and Stephen should really panic for it was way past his bedtime. Though he solefully wished the clock wouldn't tick a second again, so dreaded date, which was tomorrow won't come at all.
He stared at the ceiling for minutes, then closed his eyes, feeling the weight of his lids protesting to get some rest.
"Damn this awful life..." he muttered, deciding that unconsciousness take him this time, to oblivion, to his utopia.
++++++++++++++++++++++
"See you later, Bradley," Stephen muttered to his brother, turning around, then added in a whisper, "and happy birthday once again."
Bradley had heard this, and let a smile light his face before turning to walk into his school. Breakfast earlier that day was a bit uncomfortable, for his father hadn't brought his newspaper on the table and his mother had donned an obvious facade of happiness. Though for the special occasion, dishes served were different and more delicious than their ritual breakfast, which is composed of bacon, eggs and the occasional hotdog.
And once in a while, or when Bradley brushed a family member's skin, the person would greet him a 'happy birthday', which aroused a puzzled expression on Bradley's face. He was joyful enough that his parents and his brother had treated the day as if it were the most special day, but their actions, especially their parents' were dramatically exaggerated. Let alone his brother of course. After Bradley and his brother had opened the front door, their mother said the time of his supposed celebration.
But Brad was in a state of confusion, so the excitement that he should feel had no place in his mind.
Gazing at his feet as he walked, he received several taunts and shoves, which he didn't notice at all. Before he knew it, he was just in front of his homeroom's door. Slowly he opened the door and faced the usual class who acts weirdly around him. Mrs. Russ was already there behind her table, scribbling notes on the blackboard, not even sparing Bradley a bit of a glance.
Just like yesterday. A normal day, to be precise.
"Good morning," Brad said meekly, then walked soundlessly to his seat near the person he now dreaded, who was eagerly staring up at him with those cold blue eyes. A large fist was extended on his far left, intentionally blocking his way to Brad's seat.
"Well, good morning kiddo. Have you ever heard of child torture?" Charles snarled up at him, eyes glinting horridly, making Bradley's eyes wide in fear.
"What do you mean?"
"Bradley Crawford! What are you doing? Sit down!" Mrs. Russ yelled in her high-pitched voice. Charles removed his arm, smiling innocently at their teacher in front, while the mentor's eyes screamed anger at Brad's direction.
"Next time, Bradley. Or later, boy," Charles hissed, opening his textbook as their teacher instructed them. Bradley looked at him for a moment with troubled amber eyes, and then tried hard to lose himself in his melee of thoughts. Brad was disturbed, confused and scared, yet there was nobody who can support him or even protect him.
Nobody.
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"Oh so it's Bradley's birthday today, isn't it?" Brad looked up with a start as Mr. Roencraft smiled at him genuinely, clapping his hands softly for the class to quiet down. Brad returned the same smile, though taking a lot of effort with his face muscles.
He currently sported a slight bruise on the arm and a light gash down his knee, due to the bullying in lunch and recess. (Fortunately both the casualty was well hidden from their long-sleeved jacket and long pants.) Naturally, teachers interrupted the abuse immediately after seeing it, and accused both parties for "fair" treatment. The guidance counselor talked to them and threatened to call their parents if they caused another trouble for the second time, the least that Bradley expected. It would be better for them to not know; he didn't want his parents to be angry and bothered over him.
For the first time, he had felt real, intense emotions wash over him from time to time, or whenever he's gone of the teacher's clutches. Brad had removed his indifference and replaced it with something that he couldn't quite place in his mind yet.
However, being in this class made him feel relaxed and he had been able to slouch and stop being very over-observant of his surroundings. Fortunately, the big boys who usually bullied him were in the other class.
"Bradley? Bradley," Mr. Roencraft's voice broke into his thoughts, bringing a sort of grimace from the child. The mentor's smile grew wider as he clapped even louder, starting the song merrily.
His classmates were singing the song terribly, their voices in a steady monotone, and the others were fooling with the lyrics discreetly with a slight sneer, proving that they were included in the bullying club as well. When the song finally ended, and claps altogether silenced, Bradley stood up, and said in a crackled silent voice; just for formality:
"T-Thank you," he sat down from the final smile of his mentor, and the usual class started, also bringing up the random thoughts of the confused five-year old celebrant.
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Stephen kicked the rock in the assortment of gravel on his feet, and resumed taking in the nice scenery in front of him, tingling his senses further to their limit. The swing rattled violently, a warning that his weight is no longer applicable to the kindergarten playground. A large tree was directly in front of the gate and the trimmed grass were almost shining from the moist leaves.
Though it was not the view Stephen was enjoying at that time. Beside the large tree was a group of higher-grade students, in a tight circle, a bunch of candles in the center, shining brightly despite the natural shine of the sun. A girl in a rather short skirt stood up, then started doing some things close to that of a dance. Stephen's gray eyes sparkled, then he leaned farther to see it quite in a good view.
The girl was somehow familiar, but he just can't place her in his memories. Nevertheless, watching her gives Stephen a bit of an enjoyment and relaxation as the lithe body of the girl bent and curved, doing the intricate steps Stephen wasn't familiar with.
A hand weighed down on Stephen's shoulder and he jumped, startled from the sudden appearance. Grins and laughter greeted him when he turned, and he smiled despite his previous action.
"Stephen! You skipped class again, you're totally my idol now," a blond guy sat on the next swing, turning his gaze to the scene Stephen was watching.
"Why are you here anyway? Missing childhood?" a brunette boy asked tauntingly, a smirk in place. The blond laughed, rattling the swing he was on.
"Obviously not! Anyway..." Stephen said, his grin turning into a frown. "Do you experience seeing something that you felt you've seen somewhere in your life?" Silence followed the question, then hard laughter.
"You mean that girl? Many wanted to SEE her somewhere before so they'd say a nasty excuse to be her friend. Gee, Stephen. You're in looooove!" the blond guy said, followed by the cackle of the brunette. Stephen's tanned cheeks turned red, and shook his head.
Stephen stood up, shoving his hands on the pockets of his navy blue slacks. "Nevermind, you crazy idiots. I planned to attend the next class, so you'd also better attend."
++++++++
Bradley reached for his belongings; all ready to leave the classroom when a hand started the job for him. Amber eyes looked up, meeting the spectacled black eyes of Mr. Roencraft. After arranging the books, notebooks and pens, the teacher put it neatly in Brad's bag, zipping it quickly, then giving it to the child.
"As my birthday present," a smile again was on the mentor's lips. Bradley returned a small curve of his lips and headed for the door of the room, Mr. Roencraft behind him. "I would walk you to the front door of the school, so you won't get in trouble, okay?"
"Okay. Thank you, sir."
They were nearly on the exit of the school when a loud horn of a car was heard. Bradley recognized the sound, and saw his father getting out of the Jaguar, his brown hair quite disheveled; however his all-over appearance was enough to be called immaculate.
"Brad, there you are!" the child's father shifted his look at the man accompanying his son, and the lenses of the glasses glared against the sunlight, shading his eyes. "Mr. Roencraft," Alan said to the mentor monotonously.
"Mr. Crawford, I'm glad to see you," the mentor replied in a joyful voice, contrasting that of Brad's father. "And I trust you've been doing all right?"
"And I trust you've been shedding confidentialities again, Mr. Roencraft?" Mr. Roencraft smiled, despite the remark and pushed Bradley slightly forward.
"I'm glad you're fine. Very well, I must say goodbye now to you two," and to Bradley, Mr. Roencraft whispered a 'goodbye and happy birthday'.
As the Jaguar's door was closed securely, Alan Crawford instantly started the engine, not even taking a single glance behind them where the mentor was waving in a friendly manner. When they were at least some fifty meters from the building, Bradley became curious of the previous event.
"You knew Mr. Roencraft?" Brad blurted out silently, and the car suddenly came to a halt in front of Stephen's school. The brown-haired boy was just starting to walk towards the door when Alan sighed audibly.
"Yes, and very well too."
The door of the passenger seat opened, and a sweaty Stephen stepped in, the smell awfully unpleasant. "Hi Dad, hi Bradley," the 9-year old said gaily, removing his navy blue jacket. "It's so hot, ain't it?"
Brad was just starting to ask another question, but his father interrupted by scolding his older son heatedly.
"When did you learn such inappropriate language, Stephen? You know well that it's not applicable to our proper tongue. Discard it, it's disgusting to hear."
Stephen closed his mouth and stared at his feet. "I will, I'm sorry."
++++++++
Courtney drove her Porsche, quite distracted by her thoughts that she missed the signals twice. Before she can reach the bend to the other street, her cellphone rang. With disturbed ease, she picked up her cellphone from the holder and pressed it on her ear.
"Hello, Courtney."
"Luege," she said, humor in her soft voice. "And what is it now?"
"Boredom has no ease, if you're not here, you know that well."
A smile tugged her lips as the deep voice let out a chuckle. "You're not so poetic, Luege."
"Ah, and I know that perfectly. Why don't you drop by here? Besides, it's Friday."
"I have important matters to attend to."
"Am I not an important matter, then?"
"It's different. It's about my son. Spare a night for me."
"Too early, mein liebe. Drop by," Luege's voice was persuasive; hard to resist. Courtney bit her lip, brushing her long raven hair back with her hand. She let out a sigh and smiled. It really wouldn't hurt to be late for a few minutes on her son's birthday would it?
"I'll be there," she pressed the end button, and made a U-turn. As her car sped by, a Jaguar zoomed past her Porsche, and after going some blocks, she realized she just passed the red light again.
"Damn," Courtney cursed under her breath, though half glad that cops weren't around at that time of day.
++++++++
"Happy Birthday, Bradley!" dozens of faces appeared before the doorway, the usual bare living room bearing a large banner and several strips of tinsel hanging from the ceiling behind the people making the child gasp in surprise. Every face in front of them donned a certain expression of gayness, that seemed to not affect the celebrant's emotions.
Bradley was searching for his mother, scanning from the faces greeting them and behind those tall women, men and children as well.
"Where is Mom?" it was the first thing Bradley uttered since he stepped in the house. His face was contorted with worry, same with his eyes which began to be shadowed. His Dad swept past them to his study, to relieve himself from the weight of his belongings, and Stephen remained standing at Brad's back, waiting desperately for a positive answer from the people standing before them.
At last, after some murmuring on the visitors' part, a tall woman, a businesswoman from the looks of her, stepped near to Brad, gesturing her signature jacket clad arm as she spoke. "I believe she's not home yet. When we arrived here, the maids ushered us in. Perhaps she was stuck in the traffic. Your mom would arrive soon, I know that. It's your birthday, dear. Let us celebrate," the woman took Brad's small hand, not waiting for an objection or a remark, leading the child to the heart of the house, which was filled with chairs and tables and candles and food.
Bradley let his eyes roam around the room, a bit fascinated about the transformation of the usual lifeless part of the house. And on the chairs around a small table sat Bradley's schoolmates - not his friends, (and he haven't got friends, for that matter) rather those who always bullied him - making him dwell in silent fear and confusion.
"They are your schoolmates, aren't they? Go on, join them," the businesswoman pushed Bradley forward, and the child had no choice but to follow her words. Fake smiles were thrown towards him, which obviously didn't reach through their cold eyes.
"Happy Birthday, Bradley," one of them, a big boy, one who always follow Charles spat disdainfully at Brad, the boy's face changing once the celebrant got close to them.
"Thank y-"
"No need to thank me, Bradley boy. My pleasure," the boy said, his words heavily tainted with sarcasm. Bradley winced.
"Ladies, gentlemen, children. Welcome," Alan Crawford said out loud, standing behind Bradley. The child sighed inwardly, thanking for the nice interruption. Glancing forward, he saw his schoolmates wearing their hideous masks of innocence. He tore his glance from them, instead focusing at the other guests lined in front of them.
"We are here for the birthday celebration of Bradley, who currently turned five years old... too young but too special," Alan squeezed his son's shoulder and Brad smiled weakly at the guests, gazing at them happily and lovingly. For the first time, Brad witnessed his father being almost at loss for words. Glancing upwards, he saw his father's spectacles glaring the light, hiding his eyes, his lips in a tight line, and his brow furrowed in thinking.
After a few moments, his father talked again. "I hope you'll all have a good night." With that, Alan Crawford literally scurried out of the circle of people, most probably heading for his study to do things much more relevant than this celebration.
Stephen placed his hands on Brad's shoulders, steering him towards the table where his schoolmates were seated. "Hey," Stephen greeted, not noticing the forced smiles on their beefy faces. Brad looked down, then at the door, expecting his mother to come in. But the door didn't open.
"Hello," the big boy returned.
"So you're Brad's schoolmates?"
"Yup," came the casual retort, which made Bradley turn to look at the face of the big boy. Hate flashed in the bully's eyes as it gazed Brad's.
"So how do my brother do in school? Bad, good?" Stephen's tone was teasing, and he added a chuckle to that. Brad gazed at the door again.
"He's very smart."
"Oh," Stephen glanced at the direction of Brad's gaze. "Excuse us," he grasped Brad's elbow, leading him to the seats on the place closest to the main door.
"What is it?" Brad asked, baffled on his brother's actions. Stephen grimaced, then frowned.
"I don't like them. I hate how they do their browning," his brother replied, picking up the glass and drinking from it. "And don't think I haven't noticed how they looked at you."
++++++++
"Is that your cellphone ringing?" Luege asked, pouring liquor from the bottle of Jack Daniels to the glass in front of Courtney, who was supporting her head with her right hand on the bar.
After getting her companion's message to her mind, Courtney cackled loudly, pounding her fists on the marble table in mirth. "You're way too drunk, darling," she replied in her slurred voice, then taking the glass from Luege, drinking it in a few gulps. Suddenly she slammed the glass on the table, her forehead crinkling in hard thinking. "Where is Bradley and Alan? Damn them..."
Luege laughed boisterously, pouring himself a drink. His face was flushed from the alcohol, and his eyes were glazed. "Oh well... Liebe, you're drunk too!"
"But they're supposed to..." Courtney giggled softly, the alcohol swirling in her head.
"They're not going to be here. You came on the wrong party, hon," Luege replied, laughing insanely, then after a moment, Courtney joined too, her son's birthday entirely forgotten from the heaviness of her head and the effect of alcohol in her mentality.
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After long hours of waiting, after all of the guests cleared up, after the two of them finally ate until they felt sleepy, after all the greetings and good-byes, Stephen and Bradley were still staring at the front door, wishing it would open and reveal their mother. Brad's chest was painfully contracting, and he hated to admit it, but he wanted to cry. His mother had promised Brad of many things, but only half of it was fulfilled. And even that half was not satisfying.
It was already ten o'clock.
And his mother hasn't come.
They can hear their father's soft swearing from the study, making them feel nervous on what reaction their father would take when their mother finally came home. Stephen was disturbed on Brad's possible reaction when their mother comes home. He was sure their Mom had been in the club again, drinking and worse... The boy shook his brown mane of hair and then stood up. He wasn't just going to let his brother witness what he doesn't deserve to see.
"Brad? Time for you to go to bed," Stephen said softly, tugging lightly at the thin fabric of Brad's jacket.
"Mom isn't here yet," Brad returned, his voice monotonous and hoarse. There was a touch of coldness in it, which made Stephen gasp mentally.
"You should sleep early. It's not healthy for you to stay up late."
"I have to wait," the voice was commanding. Still cold.
Stephen put both of his hands on his brother's shoulders, trying to shake him off from the probable dullness in his head. He hasn't seen Bradley in such insensitivity and bold determination, and seeing him in this state frightened him.
"But you should. Dad would be angry if I don't let you sleep now. You could get sick, and that will make Mom worried."
Previously tense shoulders softened from Stephen's grasp, and a soft sigh followed. Tired amber eyes gazed up at his gray ones, and Brad let his older brother drag him to his feet. Halfway through the stairs, Bradley stopped walking, turning his amber orbs to Stephen.
"Would you wake me up if she comes home?"
"Yes," it was a direct lie, but Stephen had no choice. The door of their father's study banged open, then staring up at the two of them, anger on his face.
"You two, go to bed. Now," their father ordered, his brown hair disheveled, and his dress shirt, which was neat a while ago, was already wrinkled and untucked. After that, he hurried to his study, grasping his cellphone tightly in his hand.
Brad looked up at Stephen, but the older one chose not to return the gaze, or he'll be bugged again with the issue already at hand.
"Good night, Bradley," Stephen muttered, averting his gaze from his younger brother.
"Good night," Bradley closed the door of his room, and then Stephen began breathing normally again. He went to his own room, closing the door behind him silently. Whatever was to happen tonight in the living room would be much drastic than before, Stephen thought as he changed into his nightclothes. And there's no way Brad, in his birthday, had to hear or even see this.
Stephen slumped on his bed, putting an Iron Maiden cassette tape on the stereo, then placing the earphones on his ear. If he were to face violence, he'd have to put the introduction in first.
And that's what he was doing.
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Bradley woke up with a sudden rush of images in his head. Staring at the ceiling, the images built a scene, something like a movie. It was not a dream; he knew that, because the images were very sharp and too vivid.
His hands resting on his chest trembled slightly at the first person appearing in the scene. Long, ruffled raven hair spread on the shoulders and face, one glinting gray eye appearing from the tangled hair. A long, pale arm dangled lifelessly and the other extended on the wall, supporting her weight.
"Mom..." Bradley murmured, eyes still transfixed at the ceiling.
His father appeared, brown hair disheveled, mouth pronouncing 'Courtney' and other quick motions that was impossible to know by just looking. The woman's head tilted, opening her mouth, obviously laughing, the eyes open and blank. The dry lips formed some words, which made his father's face fill with rage.
"Dad...?" Bradley twitched on the bed, and the vision disappeared, transferred by the white ceiling above him. After a moment, the ceiling dissolved in black, images jumbling then a scene came again in his mind.
A hand was brought up and then slammed somewhere. Then, his mother's face bore pain and amusement as her fingers played on her red right cheek. That hand swept up, then got hold by a firm muscled arm that was his father's. Another swift motion, and the woman slumped down again.
The vision dissipated again, and this time, a loud shrieking voice was heard, and it was evidently not from his mind.
It was from the living room.
++++++++
Stephen gasped loudly, sitting in the shadows of the top of the stairs, eyes filling up with tears as the scene unfolded before him. His mother has already arrived at midnight, and from his father's rage, he had hit her, causing his mother to shriek out loud. Then, a soft click was heard, and Stephen's heart raced. He was expecting a gunshot, but all he got was another heated fight, and a warm hand shaking his shoulder.
"Stephen... Stephen..." Bradley said in a panic-filled soft voice. Stephen, despite his tear-filled eyes and face looked up at his brother in surprise, readying himself to scold and usher his brother to his room. But his body was shaking.
"Bradley, go to your... room... Hey - hey Brad!" Stephen stood up, though slumped back again from his weakened knees. Brad had run down the stairs, his eyes worried and panicked.
"Mom..." Brad murmured, running towards the living room. "Mom!"
Two heads turned from the call, one angered and the other amused.
"Bradley! Why are you out of your room? You're supposed to be asleep!" Alan Crawford yelled, glancing at Courtney from time to time.
Brad ignored his father, and ran to his mother, hugging her tightly. Her smell reminded Brad of heated mint but he didn't care. Mom was finally home, and it was enough to make him happy.
But Brad didn't understand the whole situation.
Courtney's hand shoved Brad away, laughing all the while. Alan glared at his wife, grasping Brad's hand and held him tightly, as if he were in danger. Gray eyes glinted insanely as the laughter ceased.
"Mom? Why...? Why aren't you in my birthday?" Brad asked softly, controlling himself from not crying.
"Birthday? Whose birthday?" his mother chuckled. "There's no birthday, darling. Now shut up and let me cross to my room."
Brad was struck, eyes filled with shock. Cold tears escaped from his eyes, going down his cheeks, trailing pale skin to the long neck. The hold on Bradley softened, and he felt his father's hands squeezing his arm, as if comforting him though uneasily.
"Stop this now, Courtney," his father's voice drawled dangerously. Shrill laughter followed, making Bradley wince. "You're drunk. Go to your room now."
"Mom...?" Broken sobs escaped Bradley's lips and he watched as his mother picked herself up, then walking dazedly to her room upstairs. And there, on the steps was Stephen, sitting down, sobbing as well as the female figure went up the steps, hardly noticing the person sitting on the steps.
"Go to your room, Bradley. You have to sleep," his father's voice was careful and soft. Seeing Stephen, Alan signaled his older son to fetch his brother in the living room. Stephen complied, willing his knees to be strong for some moment. And Brad's father left him crying there on the carpet, staring blankly at a point on the couches.
"Bradley... let's sleep now..." Stephen pulled his brother to his feet, half-dragging him to his room. Tears were cascading down the small child's pale cheek, but his eyes were blank, nevertheless pained. When they reached the hallway to Brad's room, the child tore his arm from the older boy and slammed the door shut.
Bradley tucked in the sheets, wishing all were just a vivid dream. He wished he were still asleep, but his tears were proof he is awake, and the pain in his chest proving that it wasn't all a dream.
+++
It was past midnight, and Bradley Crawford's birthday had just ended.
He had just entered his first few hours of being a five-year-old.
And it was the beginning of his soul to be torn apart.
TBC.
AN: That was quite long isn't it? Thank you for the few people who reviewed, nonetheless gave me inspiration for this story. I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter, as I've enjoyed writing it. Reviews are always welcome. Finished: 11:55 PM 5/24/03