Blinded

Part Two

Crawford stops. He takes the glass of wine Schuldich has poured for him to soothe his dry throat.

//My God, you didn't kill her did you?//

Crawford eyes his companion. "You'll find out. Don't jump ahead."

//Yeah yeah, that's your field.//

Schuldich finds himself imagining the siblings. A young Brad Crawford, a Jamie who looked exactly like him but with different hair and skin colour, and a Harriet... //What's Harriet like? Did she look like you?//

Crawford pauses. What was Harriet like? Like the average seven years-old girl. He has never compared himself with Harriet, and no one ever said they looked alike. He pictures her in his mind. They did look alike. All of them were copies of their mother. "Yes."

Schuldich falls silent, studying Crawford's face. After a while, Crawford lifts a curious eyebrow.

//Just imagining a female version of you.// Schuldich grins mischievously. //I won't tell you what I think, you'll be embarrassed.//

//Well when you're ready then.// Crawford's expression changes from questioning to faint annoyance. //I shall continue.//

//Go ahead.//

Harriet's eighth birthday was drawing close. Besides Christmas, her birthday was always the biggest event of the year in the Crawford family, only this year, her parents were too busy to prepare any presents.

The family, minus Mum, was on its way back home from another trip to the zoo. Dad was driving, and Harriet was leaning against the door at the back, finally asleep after all the excitement of seeing real zebras ("stripy horses") and giraffes ("deer with long necks"). The brothers were reading Silver Surfer comics and talking about which villain was coolest and "evil-est".

They pulled into a car park of a toy superstore, Dad telling Brad to go with him to quickly find Harriet a birthday present whilst Jamie stayed in the car in case Harriet woke up before they got back, so that he could make up some excuse as to where they went. Brad was reluctant to get out of the car into the summer heat, but Dad left no room for discussion.

As Brad opened the door, a vision came to him with a force that was almost like being punched in the face. He quickly grabbed hold of the door for balance.

Jamie and Harriet are asleep in the car. Jamie loses balance when Brad climbs in, and falls towards Harriet. Dad makes a comment on how kids use up their energy as if they were on batteries, then he leans into the passenger seat to tell Jamie not to put his weight on his little sister. Jamie does not even stir.

"No! I want to go too!" Jamie was not happy with the plan. "I want to go!"

"Just stay in the car, Jamie." Dad said and walked away, leaving the child no choice.

Jamie was looking at Brad, who glanced between him and his father. Something in Jamie's voice changed. "Brad... don't go. I won't see you again if you do."

Brad just stared at him.

"Please! It's true! Don't go!" Frightful tears filled Jamie's eyes. He reached out to pull at Brad's arm. "You said you won't leave Harri and I behind!"

But if he did...

When Brad made no reply, Jamie sniffed and choked his words out. "You're choosing Mum and Dad, aren't you?"

Jamie knew what was going to happen. And so did Brad.

Brad just pretended he did not know what Jamie was talking about. "I've got to go."

"Brad... You never loved me did you?"

Brad smiled. "I do, don't be stupid." Just not as much as Brad loved himself.

He shut the door.

Crawford stares into the space in front of him, for a moment forgetting about Schuldich being in the room. He thinks of Jamie, the ten years-old brother who looked so much like himself, holding his arm so desperately and begging him not to leave. Begging him not to let him die.

"They were almost gone when my father and I got back. Carbon monoxide poisoning from broken air-con."

Schuldich's lips part in surprise, not because of what he has just heard, but because of the tone of Crawford's voice. His face, for once, is almost solemn. //Are you regretting it?//

Crawford does not need to think for an answer. "There are very few things I regret." Clairvoyance leaves little chance for that to happen. "This isn't one of them."

//Then Brad,// Schuldich asks, not knowing why he is whispering. //Why that look on your face now?//

Crawford's eyes are dry. So dry that they sting and tiny blood vessels show in the whites. He closes them, and sees Jamie's face. He sees his mother put out black-and-white photographs of Jamie and Harriet, with an ash pot where she would place incense sticks for them, the Chinese way. She drove far to find a temple where she could burn finely made paper cars, paper clothing, paper money, so that his siblings' could use them in their afterlives.

He hears Jamie asking him not to let him go.

He hears himself saying that he does not care about Harriet, but will not leave Jamie behind.

He sees himself shutting the door, the sound of the slam echoing in his mind.

//Why didn't you run away? You saw that I wouldn't save you. You knew.//

//Brad, kids have no concept or fear for death. To them, rejection is far worse.

//He was only a little boy who saw you as the only person who really cared about him. If he ran, he had nothing left, not even you. If he stayed, he could still hope that you would prove his vision wrong.//

Crawford slowly opens his eyes to find that Schuldich has sat himself closer to him now, just next to the pillow on the unoccupied side of the bed. Schuldich's words are tugging at something inside him. The way he sits, with the underside of his feet pressed together and his hands holding them...

The way Schuldich smiled, when Crawford first saw his ghost...

The way Schuldich would suddenly turn around and shout "Kodak moment!" and then laugh until he choked...

//Remember what you said in your head when I found you in London? 'Forever a child, isn't he'.// Schuldich smiles somewhat bitterly. //You're right, you know? I'm just like Jamie. I'm just another kid who...// He trails off, smiling to himself.

//Be quiet.// Crawford does not want to hear it. Not right now, because his mind cannot handle it right now. He does not feel the control he often has.

//Hey.// Schuldich looks up again at the American, eyes peeking from under hair that is let loose instead of held back by a headband. He is relaxed, and happy. He feels almost serene. //I never said I blamed you. I was angry, but I couldn't blame you for leaving. You never promised me anything since the beginning anyway.//

Yes, he never did promise Schuldich anything, apart from an escape from the SS. But he did tell Jamie he would not leave him. That was the only time he ever went back on his word, if the lies he told to his clients - idiots like that Takatori - during his time in SS did not count.

Crawford cannot say he regrets his decision, but... "The price of getting rid of Harriet was higher than I expected."

That is all. It has to be.

Mrs. Crawford's footsteps echoed in the hospital corridor as she ran towards her husband, still dressed in suit and high heels from the business meeting. He held her in his arms and told her that the children would be fine as he shook in fear himself.

Brad just watched them, devoid of all feelings. Twenty minutes later, a doctor walked out of the emergency room, and told his parents what Brad already knew - they could not save Jamie and Harriet. The family huddled together and cried - or his parents did, at least. Mum was close to fainting, Dad was cursing himself for leaving the children in the car, and Brad just watched. The doctor noticed his silence and suggested to his parents that he might be in shock from the deaths.

His parents just kneeled down and hugged him, all the time whispering their apologies, their regrets, and thanking God that they still had Brad.

It all worked as Brad thought it would in his twelve years-old brain.

His parents loved him more than they ever did to Harriet and Jamie put together. Brad had anything and everything he wanted, from complete attention to model cars to trips to the movies to the latest comic books, he only needed to ask to have them. This was not to say he did not deserve it. Brad was the perfect child every relative loved, every neighbour praised, and every parent wanted. Good-looking, obedient, polite and smart, Brad was the Crawfords' pride and joy.

But they had their demands too. Since the death of his siblings, Brad began going to classes of whatever his parents wanted him to learn. As Brad grew up, he found his days were gradually filled with piano, saxophone and violin lessons, art classes, shooting courses, fencing sessions, and talks of him becoming a doctor, or a lawyer, or an architect... He was doing everything his parents wanted him and his siblings to do, reaching for the stars his parents wished they got when they were young. Brad was made to achieve the dreams his parents had for all five people in the family, alive or dead, past or present.

Brad attended all the classes, and excelled in each one. He was the perfect child, after all.

//Hold on a minute!// Schuldich yelps, unable to refrain himself from interrupting Crawford's story. //You mean you can talk Chinese and play piano sax violin and draw and paint and - WHAT???//

"And a lot more." Crawford eyes the German, amused at the reaction. "Problem?"

Schuldich laughs softly, fine hair tumbling into his face as he does. //Surprise me more, Brad. Tell me something you can't do. Cook? Dance? Calculus? Triple somersaults?//

"I'll save that for later."

//And Brad,// Schuldich pauses, asking himself if he should ask this question. //Will you let me know later too why you're telling me all this?//

Crawford stares at Schuldich. The feeling of dread fleets across inside as he realises what the answer to that question is. An answer he normally does not give to any questions asked. //I don't know yet.//

Schuldich wonders if that means Crawford does not know if he will tell him why, or if he does not know why he is telling the tale right now, but decides not to ask.

Crawford slides himself down so that he is almost completely lying down on the bed, half sighing as he sinks into the comfortable mattress. He blinks when Schuldich reaches over to undo the top two buttons of his shirt with quick fingers. Schuldich gives him a childish grin, showing two rows of white teeth. //Let's get you nice and relaxed before you continue.//

So he does.

There were two flaws in his cunning plan. But given the little time he had to decide if he should let Harriet die, Brad knew he could not have it exactly the way he wanted.

The first flaw was that Jamie was dead.

Jamie was his closest friend, the only one he could talk to after parting with friends from school every afternoon, becasue the kids in the neighbourhood were too young for Brad to even bother with. Jamie shared his room, shared the same looks from their mother, shared Brad's strange ability of seeing the future. He could have shared the burden Brad was carrying now. The list of his parents' endless demands were only getting longer. They were proud of but never satisfied with Brad, always asking for more, more, telling him to push just that little further. The Crawfords could not be satisfied, and Brad's desire to be the best at everything was insatiable, it was a system that worked well. As long as his parents were willing to inject the cash, Brad was willing to learn whatever there was to learn, just so that he could be the best, and so that he would have all the skills he needed to not rely on anyone anymore...

... So that he could be independent as soon as possible from two people who only loved him because he was the only one left; who never believed in his strengths, always pestering him with questions of his progress and idiotic remarks when he could do things perfectly well on his own; who Brad knew were never going to be as big as he himself could be.

Brad was the perfect child, yes, because he knew he still needed his parents. This was the second flaw. He did not expect attention from his parents would come with so many strings attached. He got more than he bargained for.

There was not much he could do except to spend more and more time in school, a private establishment designed for the rich youngsters like Brad with enough clubs and societies after school everyday to eat well into dinner time. For Brad, school was a delightful escape.

"Hey, my name's Glyn. You're Bradley Crawford, huh?"

"Just Brad's fine." Brad placed his fencing sword into the locker and closed the door before turning around to face a blonde-haired boy. At five foot seven, Glyn was a whole two inches taller than Brad was, even though they were both sixteen.

Glyn took a step back when Brad looked at him, as if he was stunned. "I'm recruiting people for the inter-school quiz challenge, so with instructions from and on behalf of the committee..." Glyn gave Brad a big smile. "I'm here to ask, beg, bribe, and threaten you if necessary, to represent the school in the next quiz."

Brad gestured for Glyn to walk with him to the cafeteria. "I thought there are plenty of people who want to - "

"We've lost the last five quizes already. Five. Proof that this school is full of rich idiots!" Glyn said the last comment in a whisper. "The committee told me you're our best shot."

"Me?" Brad asked, for the sake of carrying on the conversation. "Why would anyone say that?"

"You're famous here!" Glyn said, stressing the word. "You know what they said to me when I said I didn't know who Bradley Crawford was? 'Jesus Glyn! Are you really from this school? He's the smartest and best looking guy around!' And they're right, it's easy to spot you too, the black hair and half Asian looks and all."

Glyn's words were true, but an understatement. Bradley Crawford was not merely famous, he was popular. He was sporty, clever, good-looking. He taught classmates how to do their homework, and did not mind letting other people copy his own work in dire emergencies. In front of the teachers, he was a good student. In front of his friends, he was someone who would cover for them if a teacher walked by during their lunch time smoke breaks. The girls loved him; the boys wanted to be him.

All because Brad put up this image for them. It was fun, this game.

"So the sweet-talking begins." Brad chuckled. He took a bar of mint chocolate and walked to the cashier. "You guys want me in the quiz that bad?"

"Wait, I'll pay for that. Actually, I'll claim it from the committee's funds." Glyn quickly paid, laughing. "As a token of our sincerity."

"You're bribing me with a bar of chocolate?" Brad lifted an eyebrow, and took the tray of lunch and his chocolate to an empty table.

"Come on, what do you say?"

"When is it?"

"First of March." Glyn replied, looking hopeful.

"I have a match in the beginning of March, but the date isn't fixed yet." Brad said, digging into his food at the same time. "I need to check."

"No no no, they'll throw me outta the committee if my mission fails!" Glyn's blue eyes widened, and he shook his head almost desperately. "What match is it? I'll murder your team captain if I must!"

Brad laughed at the dramatic reaction. He put his fork down, and stared at Glyn in the eyes for effect. "Fencing. And you'll be in deeper trouble if you do that, because I'm the team captain."

"You do fencing? Wow."

"Just a little. You?"

"Just joined the boxing club. It's cool, you know?"

"Actually, I've been thinking about joining too." Brad looked up from his lunch with interest. He knew his parents would not like the idea. They liked graceful, stylish things, and boxing definitely did not fall into that category for them. But it would come in useful, one day...

Some people became evil because it was the only way to survive. Some became evil because of the people and society that surrounded them.

And then there were some who were just born that way.

[to be continued]