(Heavy warnings for abuse, violence, and ableism)
His mother was a collection of bits and pieces, scattered sound bites and varying images, that never connected into a whole. She was a collage of floor length black dresses, glimmering pearl necklaces, glittering rings, permed golden hair, and perfectly red lips. In some of his memories, she didn't even have a face. She was only the warm, clear humming echoing down the hall. She was the reason Sid would scamper to and fro around the house, grabbing tea or mail or knicknacks, fluffing pillows and drawing baths. His brother had been much more tolerable then, an eager puppy rather than a snapping hound straining at the end of its leash. For all his efforts, the most Thaddeus ever remembered Sid getting for his troubles was a pat on the shoulder.
There were many nights when his father would come home, arms laden with gift bags and velvet boxes. He'd always wear his best suits when doing so, and was sure to present them to her with a flourish. Her reaction had long since left Thaddeus' mind. Yet his father's eager face remained.
Indeed, his father was in many memories of his mother. On the rare nights that he came home before Thaddeus was in bed, he seemingly shadowed her every step. It was as if magnets were set beneath her skin, as if he couldn't not touch her. He'd put his arms around her waist, cup her chin, pull her against his side as she sat reading the evening paper. One night, Thaddeus had snuck downstairs in search of a forgotten toy to find him peppering kisses down his wife's neck. For a moment, Thaddeus had stood behind the door, eyes wide and mouth agape. Yet just as quickly as it seemingly started, his mother pulled away. She always did.
Sid had been just as trapped in her thrall. Every afternoon, without fail, Sid would return from school, drop his backpack on the floor, and race forward to embrace his mother. Some days she might pat his back. Mostly, she pushed him away and hugged herself.
Even Thaddeus couldn't resist her. He'd try to scoot next to her when she was on the couch or scurry into bed with her as soon as his own pajamas were on. She'd always get up, complaining of another pressing responsibility.
Yet, like all the men in his life, Thaddeus was nothing if not persistent. How he'd wanted her to pick him up and kiss his forehead and cheeks, hold him close and let him breathe in her flowery perfume. If she would just run her light blue fingernails through his hair!
According to Sid, he hadn't even been lucky enough to get a taste of her breast.
One of the few times she'd let him close was when she put on her makeup. As long as he sat still on the edge of the bathtub and stayed quiet, he could watch her pat strange powders into her face and color her lips for what felt like hours.
She'd always been just out of reach. Then, one day, she'd been gone.
Thaddeus had come home from nursery school with a skip in his step. Mrs. Shapiro had dropped him off because his own mother couldn't drive. For all the glimmering bracelets and diamond covered rings his father bought her, car keys were one trinket he never bestowed upon his wife. Thaddeus had waved the woman goodbye, his lunch box clutched tightly in his other hand, and then hurried inside. Back then, he'd had to stand on his tiptoes just to reach the doorknob.
"Mama!"
That he got no answer hadn't concerned him at the time. He'd chalked it up to her being upstairs. Entering the kitchen, he'd found no servants. Not that it mattered. For once he hadn't come home hungry as he was still full from the cupcakes everyone had eaten at the end of class. While the name and face of the classmate celebrating her birthday had long since faded from his mind, he could still distinctly remember the taste of buttercream frosting and the crunch of multi-colored sprinkles against his teeth. Had he known what he'd be returning home to then perhaps he might have tried hiding away under his teacher's desk once the festivities ended.
It was only when Sid tore through the back door, his school uniform sweater clotted with dirt and his pants legs ripped, that Thaddeus' heart started racing.
"Thad! Have you seen Mom?"
He'd mutely shaken his head.
The two had raced upstairs, practically ripping apart the house as they went. Her makeup box was empty save for an old, dried up tube of lipstick stuck in the very back corner. Her dressers and closet weren't bare, but what little remained only made the room seem emptier. His father had always been meticulously neat, only ever having enough items that could fit into his closet and drawers. With his mother's combs and brushes pulled from her side table and her stack of books cleared from the dresser, the room at first glance had appeared entirely unlived in.
Sid was the one who found her bedside phone shoved beneath the bed, the wall cord torn and jagged. The kitchen and living room phones were in the same state.
Sid had been hysterical. Strangely enough, Thaddeus had been calm. Maybe the weight of it hadn't yet set in. Or, perhaps, for once he hadn't been the crybaby that his father always claimed he was.
Naturally, Sid had to ruin everything by suggesting they check their father's study.
"No!" Thaddeus had squeaked. The idea turned his hands clammy.
It wasn't as if the two could just walk in. Their father religiously locked the door and, as far as Thaddeus knew, kept the only key on person with him at all times. Thaddeus had only gotten faint peaks inside before when he'd knocked to inform his father of something.
"Quit being a baby, Thad. I know Dad keeps a phone in there."
But even Sid had been surprised to find the door wide open. The two hurried inside, Thaddeus peeking over his shoulder as if expecting their father to materialize behind them.
Thaddeus had paused for a moment, taking everything in. The framed oil paintings on the walls, the leather bound books that decorated floor to ceiling bookshelves, even the pictures on his father's desk. There were a few old ones of what he could only assume was his father and grandparents from when they were younger. More than a few were of his wife. How strange that she was smiling in every single one. There were even a few of Sid.
With Thaddeus pondering the pictures, Sid was the one who found the open safe. All that was inside were a few pieces of typed paper. Somehow, Sid managed to become even jumpier than before.
He hurried to the phone, picking it up. Turning, he met Thaddeus' gaze. "This one still works."
Thaddeus had watched as Sid quickly dialed a number. He leaned against the edge of an armchair. It seemed too thick and stiff to actually sit in, so instead he leaned his back against the side.
"Dad? I know you said not to call this number unless there was an emergency... Yes, I know things are busy at work for you right now... Dad, would you please listen?" Sid was on the verge of tears. Something about it made Thaddeus pull his knees closer against his chin.
"Mom is gone!" A pause. "No, she's not out shopping! She didn't leave a note or anything. Dad, if you just saw your room!"
Whatever his father said next caused Sid to wipe his eyes. He said a short goodbye, placed the phone down, and motioned for Thaddeus to step outside.
"Sid?" Thaddeus asked once they were back in the first floor's east hallway.
"Dad's going to be here soon." He straightened his back. "Come on, let's meet him in the garage when he gets here."
They had waited anywhere from twenty minutes to four hours. At least it had felt as if they had waited that long. Thaddeus kept pulling at the sleeves of his sweater, rolling them up and down until bits of yarn became frayed at the edges.
When their father did pull the garage door up, his Jaguar still roaring behind him, Thaddeus tried to match his brother's posture. Once the car was parked, his father only gave him a passing glance.
"You're serious, aren't you, Sidney?"
"I wouldn't lie to you, Dad."
Their father ripped through the house much like the boys had. He tore open and slammed shut doors. He screamed "Margaret!" until Thaddeus heard him begin to go hoarse. What stuck out to Thaddeus most was what happened when they reached his parents' shared bedroom. His father had ripped open the door of her closet and begun throwing out whatever was left inside. It consisted mostly of unmatched shoes and old dresses and blouses that his mother rarely wore. One that stuck out to him was a blue cocktail dress that he distinctly remembered her wearing to a party with their father. His dad had about ripped it into two. There wasn't much jewelry left behind - nothing but a faded emerald necklace that his father tore from the chain and a pearl bracelet that, when ripped, rolled along the floor like marbles.
He'd torn open her drawers and done much the same. Neither Sid nor Thad said anything. Part of Thaddeus had wanted to leave the room, but he didn't want to risk catching his father's gaze. Sid had picked up one of her blouses and tried ripping it. All he did was send a few buttons flying.
Once everything was in shambles, their father stormed outside. The two boys shuffled along behind him. The anger was still there, but it had hardened into something beyond blind rage. Thaddeus easily recognized the heavy frown and hardness to his father's shoulders. Something about it told him that nothing else was going to end up destroyed that night - nothing material at least.
"Sid, Thad," their father said as he stood at the top of the stairway.
"Yes, Dad?" Sid asked.
"Go to your rooms and don't come out until I tell you to. Do you understand me?"
"Dad-"
"Sidney!" He turned, his eyes sharp as daggers. "Do. You. Understand. Me?"
"Yes, Dad. I promise." Sid's voice shook as he spoke.
Thaddeus had merely nodded and hurried towards his bedroom. He locked it behind him and hurried onto his bed, curling up into a ball.
When he first went inside, sunlight had been streaming in through the window over his desk. By the time his father came back upstairs and knocked on his bedroom door, a clear, waning crescent moon sat high in the sky. In between that time, Thaddeus had only been able to keep himself half occupied with a jigsaw puzzle.
"Dad?" Thaddeus asked when he pulled it open. Both his father and Sid were standing outside his door. Sid was clutching his father's arm.
"Thad, put on something fresh and get cleaned up. We're going out for dinner."
His mind jumped next to the three of them sitting in the car. He and Sid were in the backseat buckled up tight. His father never wore one.
"Whatever you do tomorrow, don't mention this to anyone. And I mean anyone! Not your teachers, not your friends, and not the neighbors. Do you understand me?"
The two shared a murmured "Yes."
"I called everyone that I could think of that might know what happened. No one has said anything." His grip tightened on the steering wheel. "Was your mother acting strange this morning?"
"She said she had a headache, so she didn't eat breakfast with us." Sid spoke up.
That might have been more notable had she not already done it a number of times within the last few weeks.
"Anything else?"
Neither answered him.
Thaddeus hadn't eaten much that night. The next morning, he didn't even finish a quarter of his bowl of cereal. It was so disorienting to sit down and see his father sitting across the table from him.
Not that it became a familiar sight. Instead, he went to work earlier than ever so that he could be home each night for dinner.
Usually, Sid was the one who brought their mother up. Ripped buttons aside, he seemed desperate for news of her.
"Have you found her yet?"
Their father's answer was always the same.
Sid had constructed elaborate theories of where she might have gone off to. She had been robbed and kidnapped and any day now someone would call the Sivanas up demanding enormous sums of money for her safe return. Or she had run off to Hollywood to star in movies and soon her face would be plastered across posters at the cinema. Maybe she had a fabulously wealthy lover in Europe or the Middle East who made their own father look like a pauper. Back then, Thaddeus had only half understood what his brother was saying.
His father certainly had theories of his own, but he never brought them to light. Speaking of their mother was strictly forbidden, a fact that Sid needed to be reminded of regularly. The welts on his brother's arm helped Thaddeus to largely hold his own tongue.
Then the forms from Haiti had arrived and any further discussion of her stopped completely.
Thaddeus' head was pounding. He only half understood what was going on. Images and voices surrounded him, and if he didn't try to push them away then they threatened to swallow him whole.
It had taken him a moment to recognize the woman. Her presence was all-consuming.
"Mom, you promised you'd tell me a story."
"No, I said that I might." She rubbed at her eyes.
"But, Mom!"
"Look, Billy, I'll make it up to you in the morning. Just go to sleep, okay?"
"Mom!" Salt was beginning to burn at the edges of his eyes. "Don't leave me yet!"
With his mom around, his growling stomach and the holes in his socks were easier to ignore.
"I need you."
In the weak light, her change in expression was hard to catch.
"I don't want a story anymore. I promise, Mom! Don't leave!"
"You know I have to get to work." She reached a hand into her pocket. The jingling sound caused him to push his blankets away and clumsily push himself from his bed. He landed legs crossed, face down on the floor. Pushing himself up, he hurriedly crossed the room and grabbed her leg.
"Don't go!"
"Billy, it's not like I want to leave." She shook her leg. Billy toppled onto his butt, the sting running up his back. "Look, we've been over this before. You need to be tough for me."
"Mom!"
"You heard me!" She held the key up. "Neither of us want to do this. I know that. But if you stay strong, we'll both get through this. Can't you please do that for me?"
He never got the chance to reply. Just as she finished speaking, she hurriedly stepped outside, slammed the door shut, and locked the door with a hard click.
"Mom!" He banged at the door. "Mom, don't leave!"
If he were tough, he would have gotten back into bed and tried to sleep. He would have pulled the covers tight over his head and pushed away thoughts of monsters. If he got into bed now, he probably could.
Reaching up, he grabbed his doorknob and hurriedly spun it around. There was no lucky fluke. It remained closed as tightly as ever.
Tough boys wouldn't have continued beating on the door. If he were strong, he wouldn't worry about the possibility that he'd wake up in the morning to find the door still locked, to call out for his mother and get no answer.
As much as his mother asked it of him, he just couldn't do that for her.
Thaddeus forced his thoughts elsewhere. The sins were maddeningly silent. Whatever the hell was causing this, he needed to get out.
Thaddeus had been down this road before and knew exactly where following her led.
"You need to toughen up." Their father didn't even look up from his plate as he spoke. "I won't always be there to swoop in and rescue you if you get into trouble."
Thaddeus' stomach tightened. He could distinctly feel Sid's glare burning a hole into his side.
"The world's a rough place. It doesn't have room for people who don't take care of themselves, Thad."
"Dad, I'm sorry!"
He wasn't even sure what had caused him to be chastised this time. His father always found some slight or failure to hold over his head.
It wasn't Thaddeus' fault that he couldn't play in gym class without his chest getting tight and losing his breath. He hadn't asked to be small for his age or to need glasses.
Oh, he'd tried to be better. No one had seem him cry in almost three years. His brain - the only muscle he had that mattered - had gotten him out of many scraps with his brother. How was he not helping himself?
A retort hung on his tongue but he swallowed it back. At least his father wasn't yelling. As long as he got to speak whatever was on his mind, he would let Thaddeus leave the dinner table when he was done eating. Thaddeus' forced down a bite of cheesy brocoli, forcing his mind to focus on the novel he had started reading earlier.
"Do you understand me, Thad?"
"Of course, Dad."
Freddy wasn't going to lie, and he sure as hell couldn't think of any way to rationalize this. This was, hands down, one of the weirdest things he had ever seen, and he and Pedro had once stayed up all night watching progressively lower quality YouTube Poops.
At this point, he wasn't sure if Billy or his dad were still breathing. Billy's eyes were wide and unblinking, a frown frozen on his lips. Dr. Sivana looked lost, his brows furrowed and mouth hanging open, his head rolled back. The gleaming grey ball in his eye crackled with blue electric sparks. A stream of smoke exited his eyelid. It smelled like spoiled milk and was the color of car exhaust. It would hover over his head for some time before quickly returning back to the ball. Whispers hung on the air, but though Freddy could hear the chatter, the words themselves lacked meaning.
"Hey, Billy," Freddy said, waving his hand in front of his eyes. "Can you hear me?"
He considered shaking his friend's shoulder but stopped himself. If he got dragged into whatever was going on...
He half considered changing back but stopped himself. There was no telling what might happen next. He certainly didn't feel like crawling back into Sivana's office just so he could have a wheeled office chair to roll around in.
Whatever was going on, Billy would figure something out. He had to.
Sid had never been fond of him, but their mother's absence caused his indifference to calcify into resentment. Thaddeus was never sure why it occurred, but he suspected that it was as simple as Sid disliking him because their father also disliked him. Where Thaddeus would have to fight to gain his approval, Sid would almost instantly get it. It was easy enough for him, with his lean but muscular frame and athletic skills. That he knew how to throw a punch certainly helped.
Had being around Sid made him tougher? Thaddeus highly doubted it.
His stomach was so very tight. He had a school project to work on, but he'd been in the bathroom for the last thirty minutes scrubbing Sid's soccer cleats. They were so caked with dirt that he was surprised that Sid could wear them without tripping. So far, he'd only managed to clean half of one. He would have gone faster if not for the feel of dirt on his hands. All he wanted to do was throw the shoes into the garbage, strip off his clothes, and soak in boiling water until his red, leathery skin peeled away. Then and only then would he be clean.
Still, this was better than the previous night. The rug burn he'd gotten still stung. As long as he didn't complain and did what Sid asked, the better everyone would be. Maybe Sid wouldn't even complain to Dad!
Thaddeus kept that in mind as the bath water turned black.
Billy wasn't in his own body anymore. Where he once had the distinctive warmth of flowing blood and the sharp jolt of ever tingling nerves was now an empty numbness. Yet his conscious was his own. Before, it was as if he had been someone else. Now, it was more like watching a movie.
Unlike before, he wasn't his dad. He was not some puppet wearing another person's skin. There was a wall surrounding Billy from what he saw before him, hard and seemingly insurmountable, that he hoped to never cross.
If he did, there was no telling just what he might feel.
Christmas was a dreadful holiday. It was one of the few facts that he and his father could agree upon.
Christmas meant wearing scratchy suits and pretending to be excited about getting a new belt or pair of socks. It also meant listening to the same five songs on every radio station.
It meant coming home to a house with no trees or lights. Maybe, if he had those to look forward to, he would have a reason to get excited. But his father was adamant about keeping the house functional. Christmas trees were nothing but glorified dust collectors.
And yet for once in his life, Thaddeus found himself excited about the holiday. For winning the class book report competition, Ms. Sherman had gifted him with a brand new Magic Eight ball. It had been the cherry on top of what was a very relaxed final day of school. In lieu of tests, the day had been spent munching on sugar cookies, singing along to old records, and making paper mache wreaths.
It hadn't even mattered that his own wreath had fallen apart before it fully dried, the underlying wires crushed and bent. Jeannie Goldman had given Thaddeus her own wreath. It was colored a warm green and speckled here and there with red dots. She had tied little bells onto it when the paint had dried that tinkled when he shook it. Wrapped around the front was a red ribbon that reminded him of the same ones she tied her pigtails back with.
"Are you sure you don't want it?" he'd asked.
"My family's not going to use it." She adjusted her glasses. She was the closest person to a friend that he had in class. Like him, Jeannie spent her recesses inside reading. Both had represented their classes in the fourth grade spelling bee back in October (and, Thaddeus mused, both had lost before the final round). Where Thaddeus spent his days doodling space ships, Jeannie spent hers writing down whatever crossed her mind in a black, leather bound journal. She'd shown it to him once. Her cursive was impeccable.
"Thanks," he said, carefully holding it. "It's really pretty."
Her cheeks had turned red. "Have a good holiday, Thaddeus."
"You too." She pulled out her journal, ripping out a piece of paper that she quickly tore in half. From her jeans, she fished out a black pen. "You're welcome to call."
As soon as she'd given him her number, he quickly did the same for her.
"I'll try." Thaddeus said. "But I might be busy."
That wasn't exactly a lie. He had a whole stack of books to get through. But the only phones in the house were in his father's bedroom and study or the kitchen and living room. No doubt Sid would want to know who he was calling. And his father would surely find a reason to say no. He always did.
It wasn't that he was a prisoner in his room. It was more that being anywhere else felt one thousand times more oppressive.
"My family is going to my grandpa's for a week, anyway. I don't think I'll be allowed to call you from New York."
Her face dropped. "Oh."
"I promise I'll try." He paused. "You won't be in the hospital, will you?"
Her face tightened. "I hope not."
Jeannie bled easily. Back in late September, she'd lost almost a week of school after scraping her knee. The whole class had made cards for her.
"Sorry," Thaddeus said. "I shouldn't have asked."
She looked away from him. "Please try to call."
When he'd gotten home, he'd hung the wreath on his bedroom door. There was still a skip to his step. Though school was out for three weeks, he wasn't alone.
Kicking off his shoes, Thaddeus unzipped his backpack and pulled out his Magic Eight ball. A few of his classmates had crowded around him when he opened the box, begging him to let them ask it a question.
Thaddeus sat on the center of his bed and began shaking it. The rational part of his mind knew that it was just a toy. He could ask it anything and it would always give him an answer, any answer. But he had rightfully earned it and that made it special. His father certainly wouldn't have bothered to get him something like this. But fate had made it find its way into his hands all the same.
"Does Jeannie really want me to call her?"
As I see it, yes.
"Will I start making more friends at school?"
Signs point to yes.
He couldn't help but grin.
"Will this be a memorable Christmas?"
Without a doubt.
Billy wasn't sure when exactly things began to change, when the images and his body began to merge together. But as the lines between them began to blur, he felt much the same way he did when his mother left him at the carnival.
Billy awoke to sunlight streaming in through frosted windows. Wrapped between a thick pile of colorful cotton blankets, his head perched against fluffy pillows, he would have never entertained the idea of getting up if his brain hadn't bothered to take in the room around him. But it did, sending him sitting up with a jolt. His(?) heart hammered against his chest.
Eyes wide, he surveilled the room. There was a Magic Eight ball and a stack of paperback books on a nearby desk. A closet door was open, revealing starched white button up shirts and sweater vests of every color imaginable. Pinned to the walls were pencil sketches.
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
He looked down. Small, pale hands were all he saw. Pulling a blanket back, he saw candy cane striped pajamas and yellow wool socks. His vision was blurred around the edges.
A sudden banging on his door sent him jumping out of bed.
"Thad, the shower's free! Dad says breakfast is in twenty minutes. You better not make us wait like you did last weekend!"
"I won't, Sid."
He hadn't meant to say that. It had just come out.
Really, he hadn't meant to do anything that he did next. But where he'd once had a bird's eye view, he now had a front row seat.
There wasn't much hot water left when he got into the shower. He hurriedly scrubbed at his skin and shampooed his hair. The mirror had already been steamed over when he came inside.
Like a robot, he dried off and hurried back to the room he woke up in. Entering the closet, he grabbed an olive green sweater vest, a starched shirt, and black slacks.
Freddy was going to get such a laugh out of this. Hell, he probably would too once this all ended. Seriously, human reproduction should have stopped en masse once feathered hair and plaid pants became the norm.
But that didn't change how weird things were. Weirder than being kidnapped by a wizard. Very, very much weirder.
With his glasses on, he could finally take in more of the room around him. What had once been blurry sketches hanging against the wall were now drawings of tanks and rockets. Scribbled across the bottom in messy print was the word "Thaddeus". The books decorating his desk were by Harlan Ellison, Anne McCaffrey, and Arthur Machen. He only gave them a quick glance before grabbing the Magic Eight ball from his nearby desk and slipping it into his pocket.
The house around him didn't look much different than it had when he had really been there. He walked slowly, only stepping on the carpeted parts of the stairs. The whole place was dreary and had few signs of life.
The dining room table was set with a pot of coffee, bowls of fruit, and plates stacked with medium brown pieces of toast.
"Took you long enough," Sid said.
Sitting in front of a plate of oatmeal was a five dollar bill. Despite himself, his whole body warmed and he eagerly snatched it up.
"Oh, thank you, Dad!"
Sid sat forward, holding up what looked to be a freshly printed twenty. He smirked.
"I trust you boys won't buy anything stupid." His grandfather looked directly at Billy as he spoke.
Five dollars! Jesus, weren't they supposed to be rich?
Billy was aware that he was eating but couldn't taste anything. Sid and his grandfather conversed as he ate.
"I just got word from your grandfather today that Aunt Fiona managed to get a plane ticket back from Taiwan in time for Christmas. She's expected to show up sometime tomorrow afternoon."
"What? Dad, you said we wouldn't have to deal with her this year!"
"I'm disappointed myself, Sid. Just keep close to grandpa and she shouldn't bother you too much."
Sid groaned.
The Magic Eight ball hung heavy in his pocket.
Just as he finished his second slice of toast, a phone began to ring. His grandfather motioned to Sid, who hurriedly stood and ran out the door. Billy continued eating.
"Dad?"
"Yes, Sid? Who is it?"
"No one I know."
"Is this a sales call?" His grandfather rubbed his forehead.
"No, just some girl. She says she wants to talk to Thad."
Billy froze. His grandfather raised an eyebrow.
"Well, go on," he said after a moment. "You have exactly five minutes."
He entered the living room with clammy hands. Sid wordlessly handed the phone to him. The fact that it didn't slip from between his shaking hands was a real Christmas miracle.
"Hello?"
"Thaddeus?"
"Jeannie! I'm sorry I didn't call."
"It's okay." She paused. "Actually, I didn't expect you to be home. I thought you would already be in New York."
"No, we don't leave until this evening." Somehow, Billy instinctively knew that his grandfather had one more business lunch to attend. While he was gone, he'd have to pack.
"I just wanted to call and wish you a merry Christmas. Have a good day tomorrow."
"You too, Jeannie."
By the time he hung up the phone, he felt like he was walking on air. He returned to the breakfast table with his shoulders straight and head held high.
"Who was that?" His grandfather asked.
"A girl from school." For once, his voice didn't break. "A friend."
Sid whistled. "How much did you pay her to do that? Girls like her, you give them any more and they'll do anything you ask. Anything!"
His stomach flipped.
"Now, Sid, I told you not to talk like that at the table." His grandfather glared at Sid. "I certainly don't want you pulling anything like that tonight. Do you understand?"
They both nodded. Billy hardly noticed his grandfather, though. He'd gotten a phone call! No one ever did that!
Wait, yes, of course that happened! He practically got a robocall every day. He forced the earlier thoughts away.
Time jumped forward. Billy awoke with a creak in his neck in the back of a Cadillac. The sky outside was dark. Sid sat in the front, a folded up map on his lap. His grandfather's eyes were locked on the road. Old Christmas music was coming in through the radio.
For a while, Billy just watched the scenery fly by. The place seemed familiar. For miles, there was nothing but trees. The number of cars they passed could be counted on one finger.
When that lost its luster, Billy pulled the Magic Eight ball from his pocket. He didn't even ask it anything, just shook it to watch the glowing triangle dance.
"Thad, I told you no toys at grandfather's."
"But it's Christmas!" As if to somehow prove his point, he shook the ball again.
"Sid," his grandfather spoke, motioning his head towards the backseat.
Without even turning his head, Sid reached his hand back and ripped the Magic Eight ball from Billy's grasp. He shook it, holding it close to his face. "Hey, Magic Isn't Real Ball! Is Thad here ever going to become a man?"
"Hey! Give that back!" He pushed against the edge of his seat belt, frantically trying to reach Sid. He could barely even touch his uncle's shoulder.
Sid gave a mock sigh. "Outlook not so good."
"Dad!"
His grandfather sighed. "We've gone over this before, Thad. You can't just go running to other people to fix your problems."
"But! But-"
The words died on his lips when the radio suddenly turned to static. Symbols were glowing bright green on the dashboard. He followed them, but they were changing too quickly for him to get more than a passing glance at each.
Those symbols... No way!
Sid and his grandfather were gone now. That might have been more concerning if the road hadn't vanished as well. Frost was quickly coating the windows.
Of all the things to be stuck reliving!
Billy frantically unbuckled his seat belt. He scooted towards the door and frantically opened it. The door swung out without even the slightest hint of resistance.
It was no surprise that he was back at that weird cave place. Yet as familiar as it was for him, his new body was certainly alien to it. He hugged himself, rubbing at his arms.
"Hello? Where am I?"
He got no answer. Turning, he saw that the car was gone. He stepped forward.
There was the throne room. The first thing that stuck out to him were the statues - so large and so detailed! Nestled between them was a strange glowing purple ball with rounded openings in the side. There was something positioned within its center but Billy could not tell what.
At the end of the room were the same seven sets of thrones that he first remembered. Shazam sat at its center, his glowing staff held out. When he saw Billy, he stood. While he did not look any younger, he certainly seemed healthier and faster.
"Thaddeus Sivana, do not fear me. Twas I who brought you here." He stepped forward, his staff held aloft. "I am the last of the seven council of wizards. I brought you here so that I might give you my magic. With it, you will protect the world from the Seven Deadly Sins and the other great evils that plague your home."
Tapping his staff, a golden image appeared of a man in a now far too familiar lightning bolt embedded one piece. His face wasn't visible, but it was so very easy to imagine it bearing his own.
"You want to give me magic?"
Getting money, a phone call, and the promise of Great Aunt Fiona's snickerdoodles was just the tip of the iceberg. With magic, nobody would ever laugh at him again. Everyone would want to be his friend. Sid would become nothing but an afterthought in the family, and his dad would never be disappointed in him again. He would be tougher than anyone! His dad had always wanted him to be a winner, hadn't he? This was better than opening a company or being elected president.
This was everything.
Billy stepped forward, his hand outstretched.
In turn, the wizard stepped back. "But first you must prove to me that you are worthy. Show me that you are pure of heart."
Billy blinked. How was he supposed to do that?
For a moment, all he could do was stand and blink at Shazam.
He lies.
Billy turned his head, his mouth falling open. His eyes locked on the statues.
He will not give you magic.
But we will.
Be our champion.
Billy wanted to cover his ears and run in the opposite direction. The body he was in did the exact opposite. It stepped forward, a hand outstretched.
Your father thinks you are weak.
How would you like to prove him wrong?
Images flashed before his mind. He was older, taller, handsomer. Lightning glowed from his hands and he floated some six feet off the floor. Sid and his grandfather stood opposite him, clutching each other. Tears dotted the edges of their eyes.
It was so much like he had always imagined... Except, he supposed, he would have a reason to be merciful. Something told him that that his father and brother could be made more pliable.
The images shifted. He was eating dinner with Gerald Ford one moment, and flying straight into Viet Cong headquarters the next, bombs and bullets bouncing off his skin. The Berlin Wall fell like wooden blocks against his fists. Reporters clamored to speak to him. He was booked on every prime time TV show for months.
Oh yes, he so very wanted to prove his father wrong!
As he stepped closer to that strange purple globe, it moved apart, opening to reveal a grey ball that glowed light blue around its edges. He could almost feel it...
He let out a jolt of pain as the bottom of his leg seemingly caught fire. He flew across the room, landing in a pile of pebbles. His pants leg, now singed and torn, was smoking.
"No! Do you have any idea of what you just did? Who you could have hurt?"
Billy blinked. The pain in his leg was still there, but it wasn't as sharp. His hands were bleeding, though. He tried picking pebbles from them but stopped as the sting intensified.
Looking up, he met the wizard's gaze. His eyes were blue as the center of fire. Forget his father, the man himself might consume him in that fiery rage until there was nothing left of him.
"Only someone pure of heart could have resisted the sins' promises. You most certainly did not." He held his staff forward. "You will never be worthy."
"No, wait, please! Let me prove it! I am worthy!"
The wizard's staff grew even brighter. The air around him crackled. He had to squeeze his eyes shut.
"I am worthy! I am!"
When he next opened his eyes, a hand held against his face, he was back in the car. Sid's elbow was pressed against the window, the Magic Eight ball forgotten in his lap.
"Please! Don't leave me!"
"Thad?" his grandfather asked.
"Jesus, what's gotten into you?" Sid turned his head.
"Where is it? I was just there!"
"Where's what?" his father asked, shooting him a look through the rearview mirror.
"The wizard! He took me to his castle and-"
"Thad, you've finally lost it. I can't believe it took you this long."
But Billy hardly noticed his uncle's words. The body he was in went straight for his seat belt, unbuckling it with ease. He hurried across the car, pulling at the door, trying to roll down the windows, anything. He had to find the wizard!
"Thad, what the hell do you think you're doing?" His grandfather wasn't looking at the road now. He seemed to be glowing, headlights turning his skin a light golden color.
Headlights!
A truck honked. Turning back, his grandfather frantically turned the steering wheel, pulling them out of its way. The car spun, barely able to stay on the road. He stopped right in its center, going across two lanes, his foot practically glued to the breaks.
For a moment, all anyone could do was breathe. The only sound was that inane Christmas music.
"I was really there! I saw the wizard!"
"Stop!"
Billy froze.
"You miserable, pathetic little shit. Did you even see what you just did? You almost killed all of us!"
Any retort froze on his lips. His grandfather hadn't hit him yet, but the possibility hung distinctly in the air.
And he didn't want to arrive bruised to Christmas Eve dinner, did he?
Hurriedly, he buckled himself back in.
"Dad, I-"
"Shut up, Thad."
His shoulders slumped. "But I-"
"Shut up!"
A wall of sound engulfed them anyway. The crunch of metal hitting metal and glass tearing apart into thousands of pieces reverbated through his ears as the car tumbled off the road and into a small wooden clearing below. His glasses flew off his head, turning the world blurry again.
When the car finally stilled, he frantically reached for what he thought were his glasses. He hurriedly pulled them on.
Sid was frozen in his seat but still seemed to be breathing. The whole front half of his grandfather's side of the windshield was gone. Glass was everywhere. The radio had finally gone silent.
"Dad? Dad!" Sid called. He frantically unbuckled and hurried out the car.
Billy quickly followed. This time, the car door opened easily for him.
His grandfather was laying flat on the icy ground, his head buried into the snow. Sid ran forward, turning him over.
"Dad! Oh, Dad, you're okay!"
"Sid..." He paused. "I can't..."
He wasn't moving.
Billy froze.
Why hadn't it stuck out to him before that his grandfather, up until this point, had been walking?
Sid's head swerved. The wrath in his eyes could have given the wizard a run for his money. "You did this!"
"No, I, I!" He stepped back, almost tripping. There on the ground was his Magic Eight ball. It was sparking with blue electricity. Leaning down, he scooped it up. There was something written across it. He squinted, trying to ignore the cracks in his glasses.
Find us.
"Billy, can you hear me?"
"Mwurthee! Mmmwurthee!" He had been repeating it in a low whisper for almost a minute. Fat tears streamed forth his eyes and his hands were bleeding, sending small red rivulets down the glowing yellow staff.
Freddy's head had been turned when the transformation occurred. When he'd last seen his friend, he was a superhero. When he looked again, there was his real body. Smoke had been pouring from the bottom of the left leg of his jeans but it had since stopped. A burnt smell still hung in the air.
"Billy!" Reaching a hand forward, Freddy grabbed his shoulder.
Freddy had to hold back a scream. He pulled his hand away. There was that burning sensation in his blood again, so hot that his organs might melt. It crackled through him in a white hot explosion.
Freddy squinted his eyes shut. No, no, no!
When he opened them, the pain was muted if not entirely gone. He was on the floor, his legs splayed out. Billy wasn't the only one in his real body.
Freddy groaned and rubbed at the back of his head. He blinked and blinked again, but it was as if he were looking through an old telescope.
"Billy?" he grumbled. "Billy!"
His friend seemed suddenly so far away. Hell, Freddy could barely hear his own voice. The darkness around the edges of his vision expanded.
He never wanted to go to another hospital again for the rest of his life. It felt as if the smell of antiseptic was burnt into his nose.
Something told him he wouldn't get his wish. As soon as visiting hours were upon them, his great grandmother planned to drag the whole family over the next morning. She'd religiously taken them every day since Christmas. The hospital staff had at first made a fuss over him coming due to his age. She had all but hung their heads on pikes for it.
Forget Sid and his grandfather. No one except Great(-Great?) Aunt Fiona talked to him any longer. If his family didn't glare or snap at him then they might not have even bothered acknowledging him at all.
"It's going to be alright, Thaddeus." Great Aunt Fiona pulled up the covers of his bed and kissed his forehead.
He wanted to speak but the lump in his throat was too tight. Instead, he tore his arm from the covers and grabbed her hand. All he could get out was a whimper.
She sat down on a chair near the bed. Once upon a time, his grandfather had grown up in the same room.
"I won't leave yet." She squeezed his hand.
"Is Dad ever going to walk again?" He was amazed that he could force the words out at all.
"No."
If he had asked any other family member, they would have said the opposite.
"Your father is a tough man, Thad."
"Doctors get things wrong all the time."
"He's not," she repeated. "I used to work at the wounded soldiers' hospital. A lot of men came in like your dad. They came home scared and barely able to move. We had to teach them how to do everything again and get on with their lives. Most of them were able to do it. But no, none of them ever walked again."
"Not like you?"
She frowned. Over her right leg, situated above her pantyhose, was a large metal brace. "That happened to me for a different reason. The doctors could mostly fix it." She sighed.
"It's my fault, isn't it?"
"Of course not." She rubbed her forehead with her free hand. "I've heard what the others are saying. They need someone to blame it on because it's easier than acknowledging that sometimes bad things... Well, sometimes they just happen and there's nothing anyone can do about it."
"I wish it never happened."
"Of course you don't. Oh, what a way to start the new year." She leaned forward, holding up his chin. "Repeat after me, Thaddeus."
"Yes?"
"Everything will be alright."
"Everything will be alright."
Billy so desperately wanted to believe her. He was sure as hell that his dad hadn't when he first heard it.
Hadn't his grandfather always called his great aunt crazy for a reason?
She stayed with him for a while longer, running her hand along his arm. As she did, she hummed a song that he didn't recognize. All the same, he joined in along with her.
He must have dozed off because when the room next came into focus, she was gone. It was even darker than before. No light came in from under his door crack.
It was so very, very quiet.
Champion.
He shot up in bed, clutching his sheets. What in the name of-
Find us!
"What are you?" He asked, though he already knew the answer.
Your father will always blame you for what happened. Always!
"How... How are you doing this?"
Does it matter?
What had once been a mix of voices was now a singular force beating against his brain.
Find us. Help us help you.
Where the hell was the off switch for this thing? These were all just mind games. They had to be. Somewhere out there was his - well not his real body, but his new one. His better body, the one that could fly and withstand bullets. That body was out there somewhere, still clutching that staff. If he could just let go...
By the time New Years had ended, the three Sivanas were back in Philly with his grandfather's parents in tow. And they weren't the only new faces - nurses and physical therapists came each day as well.
When school started back up, Jeannie wasn't in class. His grandfather hadn't been the only one stuck spending the holidays in a hospital.
His grandfather spent his days trying to navigate the world in a wheelchair. Billy wasn't sure if his grandfather ran over his foot or bumped into him on purpose. Either way, by the middle of January he himself was walking with a limp.
"Is everyone in this family a cripple?" Sid asked. Billy couldn't see his uncle but soon felt him. His hands dug into his back before pushing him face first to the floor. His glasses went flying.
Billy said nothing, just sat up and rubbed at his face. As far as he could tell, he wasn't bleeding.
"Don't!" he yelled. There was little force behind it.
"Or what?" Sid asked. "You're going to be in a wheelchair before I am."
Where he had once been able to go days without Sid starting anything, it soon became a daily occurrence. His older foster brothers had done many of the same things to him when he was younger. Maybe living with his dad had made him soft, because Billy had certainly forgotten what it felt like to be dragged around by the leg and have his face shoved directly into a dirty toilet.
Businessmen and investors soon became another familiar sight. His grandfather had gotten a new phone line installed and taken to working from home. Some days, with construction on ramps and a new elevator so backed up, he didn't even leave the east wing of the house. A bedroom had been hastily set up across from his study. Billy was quickly becoming far too familiar with both spaces.
His study had once been a mystery. Now, Billy knew the place as well as he did his dad's own apartment.
Sometimes, his grandfather only called him inside to have him sort through papers or fetch him a cup of coffee. Mostly, though, he seemed interested in testing out his new upper body strength.
Nights were spent huddled under a blanket with a flashlight propped against his chin. He had taken to filling notebooks with strange and elaborate symbols. All the while, the sins cried out to him. His dreams were filled with shadowy figures and the faces of family members alike.
Great-great Aunt Fiona had promised that everything would turn out alright. Like most promises, it ended up broken. Yet things did, at least, somewhat return to what now could be called normal.
Billy would never admit it to his dad, but he wished his father hadn't been such a wimp. He was sick of ending up in a bloodied heap on the floor and just laying there.
By the time the next Christmas rolled around, Billy's great grandparents had moved back to Cold Harbor. In that same amount of time, his grandfather had moved from a hospital clunker to his own specially fit manual chair and learned how to drive using only his hands. Sid had gotten his license as well. If nothing else, that helped give his uncle a reason to not be home as much.
His grandfather had also started working at the office again. As if to make up for his long absence, he spent upwards of twelve hours at work every day, including on the weekends.
Coming home to an empty house was at once a blessing and a curse.
With Sid and his grandfather gone, Billy wasn't worried about breaking his ankle or getting a black eye. No one yelled at him.
The problem was that the sins took advantage of this silence. Seemingly every waking moment when he wasn't in school or doing homework, he was reading every book he could find in the library on magic (that nineteen times out of twenty they were rubbish certainly didn't help) and frantically scribbling down symbols.
"It was just a stupid dream," Sid had said once. "Whatever you saw didn't happen."
Sometimes he wished Sid was right.
Their next Christmas was much like the last. They all huddled into his father's specially customized new car. The radio played every version of "Jingle Bells" recorded by man up to that point. Sid squinted at the map and took almost ten minutes to figure out that it was upside down. Even the Magic Eight ball still sat securely in his pocket, though he dared not pull it out.
Sid had gotten a hundred dollars that morning. He himself had gotten a punch to the gut.
After a dreamless nap, he awoke to a window full of stars and snow capped trees. He watched it go past. If not for "Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer", he might very well have spent the night trying to ignore the sins' screams. He supposed there were a few (very, very few) good things about Christmas.
They had been driving for almost an hour since he'd awoken when the car suddenly slowed. Pulling off the road and into the surrounding snow, it finally came to a stop.
Sid shot his head up. "Dad, what's going on? Did something happen to the car?"
"The car's fine, Sid." His grandfather clicked off the radio.
"Is something wrong?"
"Of course something's wrong!" He gestured towards his legs. He groaned. "It's been a year since..." He turned his head, shooting daggers. "Since you did this to me."
"Dad, I didn't do it!"
"At least be honest." He wasn't yelling. Holding a hand up, he rubbed at his forehead. "This is the exact spot where it happened. The place where my life ended."
"Dad..." Sid reached forward and squeezed his shoulder.
"I wake up sometimes and I can't remember what happened. I throw off the covers and rush to get out of bed and nothing happens." He tightened his fists. "Can you even imagine being stuck like this?"
His grandfather had said much the same to him before. One night, he'd called Billy into his study and wordlessly gestured towards his wheelchair.
"Have you ever thought what it would be like if you were in one of these?"
He'd shaken his head.
"I certainly have. If anyone deserved to be in it, it's you." His frown had deepened. "It should have been you."
His throat had tightened.
"Do you know what would have happened if it had been you?"
He hadn't said anything. He had long since learned to recognize a rhetorical question when one floated his way.
"We could have shipped you to a home upstate and been done with the whole matter."
"Thad, are you even listening to me?"
He was jolted back to the present.
"Dad, I'm sorry!"
"Don't say it if you don't mean it." He turned, looking out the window. "It's a beautifuk night, isn't it, Sid?"
"Yes?"
"Would you do something for me, son?"
"Anything."
"Good," he responded. His grandfather turned back towards him, a grin spread across his face. "I want you to take Thad outside and do your worst. Don't hold back."
Sid soon had a matching grin. It reminded him of a hyena leering down at its prey.
His heart about stopped. "Dad, wait! You can't really mean this!"
"Well get going, Sid. I want us to get to your grandfather's before midnight."
Sid unbuckled his seat belt and hurried out of the car. In turn, he hurriedly unbuckled his own. Before he could pull away from the seat, though, his grandfather wrapped his hand around his upper arm with a vice like grip.
"Remember, Thad, it'll hurt at first. But once the pain is gone, you won't feel anything at all." His smile was all teeth. "Nothing at all."
Sid ripped open the car door. His grandfather pushed him forward into his uncle's arms. The chilly wind hit him like a fist. His breath came out in foggy puffs.
"Sid, wait!"
Sid threw him to the ground face first. There was a sharp crack of glass and a jolt of pain running up his forehead. He moaned. Above him, he heard the car door slam shut.
The next thing he felt was Sid pulling his arms behind his back and squeezing them tightly. He tried to scream but got a mouth full of snow for the effort. He gagged.
"I know you hate Dad, Thad. Don't even try to deny it." This time, Sid grabbed the back of his hair and pulled. "So shut up about being sorry. If you had the chance, you'd probably do the same thing to Dad all over again."
He stood. This time, Sid brought his boot down on his back and pushed down. Pulling it up, he brought it down again and again.
He tried pushing himself up but couldn't get a grip on anything. His fingers were so cold that he was already starting to lose feeling in them.
Sid grabbed him by the legs and turned him over. Raising a fist, he brought it down against his face. Once. Twice. Again and again until he wondered how he was even still conscious.
Blood was pouring down his chin by the time Sid finally moved to his chest. He groaned, weakly batting at Sid with numb hands. Sid merely grabbed one of his arms and twisted it. There was a heavy crack.
"Dad could have died, you know. At first I thought he did." Sid leaned down until their noses were practically pressed together. Sid's hands were clutching the collar of his shirt. "If you think this is bad, just imagine what the hell I'd do to you if Dad were dead!"
Sid pushed his head back into the snow. Before he went down, he caught a glimpse of the car. His grandfather was looking out the window straight at them, his hand tapping against the center of the steering wheel.
"Please," he wheezed.
All Sid did was stand and give him a kick to the ribs.
"Donhurme!"
Thaddeus was pulled from the visions with a jolt. Opening his eyes, he saw William - the real William - standing above him, eyes bruised and face caked with dried blood. On the floor was his friend, his nose gushing like a waterfall.
Looking down, he saw the staff still in his hand. He pulled away as if he had just touched a boiling pot.
"Pleasesidplea-" The word died on his son's lips and the staff slipped from between his fingers.
"Whuh... What happened?" The other boy sat up, rubbing his forehead with one hand and leaning against the wall with the other.
Thaddeus stood. There was blood on the floor and a hole in his wall, but he was alive. Alive and free from visions of that nasty woman.
"William?"
"Dad?" He opened his eyes. They were red and puffy. "Dad, is that actually you?"
"I would hope so."
"Billy, what happened?" The boy picked up the staff and tried to stand. All he did was send his legs out from under him. He collapsed back onto his butt with a thud. The staff slipped from his hands, hitting the floor. Both Sivanas stepped out of its way.
"I saw..." He looked to the ground.
"I tried to make you let go. When I touched that thing, I..." He looked up. "Billy, why are we like this again?" He gestured down towards his body.
"I don't know, Freddy." He hugged himself.
"You boys are bleeding."
The two looked back up to him, eyes wide.
"Dr. Sivana," Frederick squeaked. "Do you have the seven deadly sins?"
He nodded. They were thrashing against his skull but otherwise staying right where they belonged. "They aren't your concern right now." He turned towards William. "Get in the bathroom. Now."
Leaning down, he grabbed Frederick and held him bridal style.
He looked back to William. "Bathroom. Now."
"What are you going to do to us?" Frederick asked.
"Get the antiseptic." He brushed some stray bangs away from the boy's eyes.
In the bathroom, William sat on the edge of the bathtub while Frederick sat perched on the closed toilet bowl. He shut the door behind him. The bathroom was so small that if it was any more compact then they'd have learned what sardines felt like. Thaddeus dug through the medicine cabinet for a bottle of peroxide and cotton balls.
Frederick was still actively bleeding. He dabbed at his face first.
"Do I even want to know how this happened to you two?"
"Aren't you going to kill us?"
Frederick's question sent the whole room silent. For a moment, all Thaddeus could focus on was wetting a wash cloth and then pressing it to William's face.
"No," he said after a moment. "Certainly not metaphorically. Something tells me grounding won't work."
"And literally?" William asked.
"I'd never even entertain the thought." As much as the sins wished otherwise. They were clawing beneath his skin, screaming so loud to end this madness to take the power to be free free free, and doing it so loudly that he was amazed no one else heard them.
The sins were certainly idiots if they thought he'd so much as lay a finger on William. Their attention turned towards the other boy, the first champion, the stranger. But he too pushed those thoughts away. Even if he never laid a finger on his son, hurting the other boy would be to bestow upon William an unimaginable pain. He could never do that either.
And, truth be told, without his champion form, Frederick just looked plain pathetic. Both boys did.
"I'm going to take a wild guess," Thaddeus said as he wiped blood from Frederick's face, "that you don't go to Palisades."
"No."
"Is that a Philadelphia accent? I'd recognize one anywhere."
Frederick grimaced.
Of course he had to be from Philly! Forget burning down his father's home - the whole city should have been turned into a pile of ash.
No one said anything as Thaddeus began to bandage their faces.
"Does anything else hurt?" he asked. He dropped the bloody washcloths into the sink.
Frederick rubbed at the side of his head. "My head hurts."
"I can't feel my face."
"Let's go to the kitchen, then. I'll get you boys some ice." He opened the door, then picked Frederick up again. William followed behind him. The two wordlessly stepped over the staff and piles of rubble in the hallway.
"Shouldn't we be duking it out?" Frederick asked.
"I would hope not. I can't even begin to imagine how I'll explain this mess to the landlord."
"But... But back at the bridge!"
"If I'd known you were a little boy, I never would have attacked you."
"I'm fourteen!"
Thaddeus smirked, looking first from the boy in his arms and then to his own son. "You two are practically babies. Call me crazy, but you'll understand why I said that when you're my age."
"So we're really not going to fight?" It was William who asked this time.
"Sorry to disappoint you, but no."
In the kitchen, he placed Frederick down on the counter before pulling two ice packs from the freezer. Wrapping them in paper towels, he handed one to each boy.
"So," he said, "anyone want hot chocolate?"
"Uh," Frederick said, "no thanks."
William shook his head.
"Does anything still hurt?"
"Well, yeah." William shrugged. "Look, it's fine."
"It doesn't look fine to me."
He stiffened. "Dad, I just wanted to say..." He met his gaze. "I'm sorry about what your dad and Uncle Sid did to you. And your mom, too."
Thaddeus froze. "What did you see?"
He pressed the ice pack further against his left eye. "What'd you?"
Hot bile rose in his throat. "Nothing worth remembering." He tightened his fists. "What you saw - it's why you're like that, isn't it?"
William nodded.
"What happened?"
William didn't say anything, just looked over to Frederick.
"William Earl Sivana, who did this to you?"
His gaze dropped back down to the ground.
"I saw... It happened the Christmas after... After your dad..."
All the color left his face. No! No! No! Even dead, his damn family found a way to ruin his life. And of all the things to see, it had to be that!
He crossed the kitchen, pulling William into a hug. For as much as he wanted to grab him and never let go, Thaddeus was careful not to clutch him too tightly.
"You didn't deserve to see that, William. I'm so sorry."
"It's not your fault."
"Yes, but... I spent almost your whole life trying to keep you from them." He ran his palm in circles along the boy's back. William's shoulders drooped. "I can't even do that when they're dead."
William tensed. "What happened to Uncle Sid? Did they finally catch him?"
Thaddeus pulled him closer. "That really isn't your problem right now."
"Dad?" William pulled away, breaking their embrace. All Thaddeus wanted to do was grab him again.
"Is anyone hungry? I'll order pizzas!"
There was that old, familiar silence again.
"Billy, I don't want to sound like a jackass, but your dad is the weirdest guy I've ever met."
Both locked their eyes on Frederick.
"No offense, Dr. Sivana, but you're like the world's strangest supervillain."
He couldn't help but laugh. "What did you just call me?"
Frederick's face tightened. "The weirdest guy I've-"
"Besides that."
"A supervillain."
He started laughing again. "What do I look like, Dick Dastardly?"
"Who?" He looked to William, who shrugged.
"Never mind," Thaddeus said. "Look, I know we've had our differences but I'm not some moustache twirling fiend."
"Then what are you?" William asked.
His heart began to beat faster. The sins were clawing at him, desperate and hungry and oh so very angry.
"Why did you destroy that bridge? Why the hell do you have that thing stuck in your eye?"
Thaddeus narrowed his eyes. "Frederick, so long as you're a guest in my home, you must refrain from using such language."
"You destroyed a bridge but you're mad that I cursed?"
He ground his teeth together. "I didn't destroy that bridge. They did."
"Again, why do you even have the sins? Aren't they like evil incarnate?" Frederick threw his hands back.
"I suppose you could say that."
"He has them because the wizard didn't give him superpowers! He said my dad wasn't worthy."
Thaddeus' throat tightened. Of course he had to see that too.
He knows you aren't worthy!
They stole your power!
Yes, they had, hadn't they? All those years of searching and the wizard had granted his powers to kids who weren't even old enough to drive.
Did they even realize the full extent of their powers or the responsibilities they now held? If their social media presence was any sign, that was a hard no. Why the wizard had picked them, he couldn't even begin to imagine. William was a good kid, but pure of heart?
SCORA results or not, he was just William. An ordinary boy who had enough on his shoulders already without worrying about fantastical abilities. None of this ever should have happened!
It doesn't have to any longer.
No, it didn't, Thaddeus realized. He gazed back at them. Oh, they really did look pathetic! Small and scared and hurt. Most people wouldn't be able to help them, not really. But Thaddeus was different. He really could make all the pain go away.
These boys needed therapy, not superpowers. All that they should have to worry about were the PSATs and extracurricular activities. Life was already hard enough at that age...
William was smart. Surely he'd understand one day, maybe even be thankful for what Thaddeus did.
It would be better for all of them if he took their powers away. They'd be safer. There would be one less thing for them to worry about. For that matter, there would be one less thing for Thaddeus himself to worry about.
Yes, safer. That was his job as a father, wasn't it? No parent in their right mind would let their child take on such immense power. If William kept them, Thaddeus would all but be begging for someone to come along and rip his son's throat out. And there were so many people who would eagerly do just that.
And if anyone knew how to use the wizard's power, wasn't it him? He'd spent his whole life trying to get them.
No! What was he thinking?
He wasn't, he realized. He never truly would have a mind of his own until the damn sins were gone.
They had given him all he'd asked for, hadn't they? Incredible powers, revenge on those who'd wronged him? What else did he need?
"William, I'm not going to hurt you. I never would."
"Dad?"
"I love you, son. More than anything in the world." He turned, reaching a hand towards his eye. Thaddeus could worry about the boys' powers later. Right then, he was the one who needed to clean house.
He bit his lip. The eye was set just a bit too deeply into his head. He ignored the bile rising in his throat as he wrapped his fingers around the eye's cool surface.
This madness ended tonight.
It all happened in a flash. One moment, Dr. Sivana was monolouging, the next he was surrounded on all sides by seven living nightmares.
Freddy's breath caught in his throat. He wanted so badly to say the word, but he could only blink at the creatures. They smelled like what he imagined a rotting body would. How the hell did they all fit into the kitchen? Each one had a clawed arm on some part of Billy's dad's body.
"Dad!" Billy cried. He stepped forward, reaching for his father's hand. A clawed hand scratched his arm. Billy collapsed on the floor. The sleeve of his hoodie was torn.
"William!" Dr. Sivana cried. He wiggled like a dying fish against the sins' hold. "Get out of here!"
Oh shit. This was bad. Really, really bad. There was no denying that. Whatever Billy's dad said, this was some supervillain level nonsense.
Freddy opened his mouth. He could change this. Whatever his previous fight with the sins was like, he had to.
"Say anything and we'll rip off his arms."
Freddy froze. It was as if those things had literally spoken inside of his head. He looked to Billy, who was just as pale as he imagined himself to be.
"If you want to him to live, grab the staff and do exactly as we say."
"No! Get out!"
The winged sin put a hand over Dr. Sivana's mouth.
"It's your choice if he lives or dies."
Freddy looked to Billy, who was slowly standing up and inching towards a side door.
"You can't be serious!"
"They're going to kill my dad! What else am I supposed to do?"
"Good boy."
The sins loosened their grip on Dr. Sivana. He began shaking harder.
"Billy, please! You can't do this!"
He stood at the doorway, his eyes to the floor. "I can't let them hurt my dad."
"He told us to run!"
Billy rubbed his arm. That was bleeding now too. "I'm not leaving my dad." Then, he shot out of the room. Freddy could only watch.
A sin stepped forward. It was smaller than the others, with glowing emerald eyes and pointed, elf-like ears.
"Why don't we make a deal?"
His mind flashed back to one of the drawings. This had to be Envy.
Behind him, there was a creak. Turning, he saw Billy standing at the door, staff in hand.
"What kind of a deal?" Billy asked.
"Think of it more as an offer."
"We would welcome more champions. Give us the wizard's powers and we will give you ours."
Freddy groaned. "That's it? 'Billy, I am your father. Join the dark side and we will rule together?'"
Envy turned back to him.
"The offer stands to both of you."
One of the sins gestured towards Dr. Sivana.
"Ask him just how wondrous our power feels."
Freddy turned his head towards Billy. "Look, I understand saving your dad. But getting possessed by demons?"
"Why don't we give you a little demonstration?"
Envy stepped forward, straight past Billy. Freddy had only a moment to breathe in that rotting smell before it lunged at him. Freddy screwed his eyes shut.
Nothing solid hit him. He opened his eyes, but Envy was gone.
Stand.
Freddy bit his lip. Oh yeah, that was definitely in his head that time.
"What?"
Stand!
And then, somehow, he did. His legs didn't shake. He moved as if he had been doing this all his life.
He took one step. Two. A third. He jumped up. Then, once he hit the ground, he easily bent each leg both forward and backward. There was no limp, no spazzing. If anyone saw him on the street now, they'd surely look right at him.
"Freddy, you're walking!"
"I know! This is wild!"
It was surprisingly easy to ignore the row of monsters in front of him as Freddy did jumping jacks.
"Can you believe this?" Freddy asked.
Another sin stepped forward. Wordlessly, it lunged towards Billy.
"Dude, you're flying! The real you!"
Billy grinned. "Gotta say, it feels kind of weird in this body."
"There's so much more you both can do."
Freddy looked down to his hands. They were glowing now, lightning shooting from his fingertips. No one was ever going to fuck with him again!
The kitchen fell away. In its place was the front of Fawcett Central. Sprawled on the ground were Brett and Burke with tears in their eyes and pleas on their lips.
Then he was in the Hall of Justice. Wonder Woman winked at him. Batman patted him on the back. Superman held up a photo ID with such pride...
But what did Superman matter? He was going to be way better than Superman ever was.
"We'd need new superhero names." Freddy said.
"I definitely won't miss our old costumes."
"So is that a yes?"
How was anyone supposed to say no to this?
Freddy froze. Oh, there were certainly people who would. Batman probably could have gotten superpowers somehow. He certainly knew people who could have helped him get them. Yet he soldiered on all the same, a man among myths.
Wonder Woman would say no. Wasn't "truth and goodness above all" her whole shtick?
And Superman... Well, Superman was already the man who had everything.
Besides, Freddy already had superpowers. And they hadn't been offered through blackmail by a bunch of monsters. Billy had just given them to him, no questions asked.
And yeah, he couldn't walk - at least not like everyone else. But if people had an issue with it then that was their own damn problem.
"No. Get out of me!"
No?
There was a burning in his chest. The next thing he knew, his legs went out from under him. On shaking arms, he turned towards Billy.
"What about you? Will you share your father's power?"
"Or will you lie broken on the floor too?"
Billy gave a weak laugh. "Look, you seem great and all, but I'm not sticking some glowing demon ball in my eye. That's disgusting! Thanks but no thanks."
The demon ripped forth from his body in a stream of smoke.
"A shame. You two might actually have accomplished something with us."
The sins turned back towards Dr. Sivana.
"Our original offer has not changed. Give our champion your power and we'll let your father live."
His mouth finally free, Dr. Sivana spoke. "How many times do I have to tell you two to get out?"
"Dad, they're gonna kill you!"
"And if you stay, they'll kill you. William, I can't let you die."
"And I can?"
"Please, William. If you love me, you'll leave."
"Do you wish to die, champion?"
"Of course not. But my life or his? There's really nothing to choose." He looked back to Billy. "William, please go!"
"You never deserved your title, champion. At least the wizard always knew you weren't worthy."
It was all so sudden that at first Freddy didn't realize what happened.
The winged sin put its clawed hands around Dr. Sivana's neck. Then, with one smooth, quick motion, it turned his head a good two-hundred degrees or so. There was a snap like a wishbone breaking.
It was only when his body hit the floor that Freddy fully grasped what had happened. Dr. Sivana was so pale and still, his head angled at the oddest direction.
"Dad!" Billy shrieked.
Freddy crawled forward, grabbing Billy by the pants leg. Then, he blinked.
So this chapter ended up way longer than I expected it to. I just couldn't figure out how to break it up. The next chapter shouldn't be nearly as long, but I can't promise how quickly I'll be able to get it posted.
