Redivivus
Disclaimer- I do not own 'Holes', it belongs to Louis Sachar.
Summary – Seventeen year old Squid makes a transition from juvenile delinquent into murderer, and only the sister of the victim can give him the chance of redemption.
Warning! – Mild swearing.
Author's Note – I must say that I'm disheartened by the lack of response, but I will still say I am sorry for taking so long with this chapter.
Chapter Four
"Shelter My Ignorance in Fatigue"
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Squid once again lay awake in his cell bed. He had been haunted by dreams of her for days, and well, he just couldn't take it. Most nights he just willed him self to stay awake; save himself the pain. But he wasn't going to whine and wish that he could have taken back those things he said, he was glad he said them, they were true. Her mother was selfish. But April couldn't see that, she couldn't see that her mother was a fake and a conceited woman. Shaking his head in frustration, Squid sat up in his bunk and bowed his head in his hands. He shouldn't be thinking about it, he should sleep. But even as he thought this, he couldn't help but think back to as she pleaded for him to stop sneering about her mother, but he had carried on, taunting her over again. But he wasn't a stranger to the harsh taunts of others, he wasn't as inhumane as the papers judged him as; he had feelings. He remembered back in Camp Green Lake a few guys laughing about his mother, calling her a drunk. He couldn't understand at the time how they found out, but their files weren't as hard to get hold of as one would think. He remembered them taunting and judging his mother and he would admit it hurt; but not to others. He had just laughed with them, talking about her so harshly, which reminded himself of his father. He hated himself.
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"You know many people are talking about a biography being written about you." Squid snorted and shook his head, a slightly annoyed look playing on his facial features. Squid looked up as yet another reporter sat across from him, this one younger then the other, with fair hair and glasses.
"A'int that just what I wanna' hear, just another guy making money off of my story," he grunted, his eyes looking down at the table, resting the temple of his head on his hand in what seemed like disinterest. The reporter looked down at the papers in his hands and a small smile twitched on his thin lips.
"So tell me, there have been reports about David Deyell's sister, April Deyell coming to visit you, what did she want with you, 'Squid'?" At the sound of her name, Squid looked up at the reporter, his eyes flashing dangerously. The reporter didn't look away but carried on staring right back at him. He didn't want to hear about her.
"And how would they know that?" he asked through clenched teeth. His eyes momentarily rested on the guards behind the reporter and his eyes narrowed into slits. The reporter didn't answer, but just sat back and smirked.
"You seem quite…touchy about this subject," the reporter mused, the smile still across his lips. Squid's fist banged hard on the table, with his knuckles white and fist clenched so hard that his nails bit into the skin on his palm.
"I 'aint touchy," he seethed, tone set in rage. He muscles were tensed and his cheeks were sucked against his molars trying to contain his fury.
"Well why don't we talk about her then? Where shall we start?" Squid stood abruptly and slammed a fist at the glass, the guards looked weary and edged forward, but only a few inches from where they had been originally standing. "Well, I'm sure the public will find this very interesting," the reporter's eyes glinted with pleasure as Squid lunged forward again, this time both fists punched at the glass.
"I'm sure they'll find it more interestin' when I break your neck in two," Squid replied. His jaw was clenched and his chest felt compressed with the rage building inside of him. The mousy-haired reporter opposite seemed to be smirking to himself as his eyes traveled over the page in front of him. "You wanna' know somethin' about her?" Squid asked, his tone biting "She is a conceited, attention-seeking kid, who wants people to feel sorry for her. There are you fucking happy?" The reporter looked up at Squid, his eyes twinkling with what seemed to be hidden intentions and smiled; a smile that made Squid's skin crawl.
"Very," he answered.
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The dull grey room had become very familiar to Squid, its coldness and lack of comfort had felt honest to him. He couldn't understand why anyone would actually choose to see him; since the day of David Deyell's death Squid had become somewhat of a 'celebrity'. He thought this pathetic, that newspapers and television reporters would actually want to talk to him. Is this really what the public wanted to see? It's the strangest feeling when every day you receive letters from people you don't even know trying to convince you that 'God will forgive' him. Where was God when his mother wept at night?
"You know, a mother has nightmares about everything that could happen to her child; a car crash, a sickness. But you are meant to wake up. I can't. I wake up every morning with the illusion that this is a nightmare, but then it sinks in that the nightmare is my life. It kills me that for a few treasured moments as I open my eyes, my child is safe in my arms, everything is fine. But then it hits you, your worst nightmare has become your home and it makes you wonder why you even live at all. I am terrified." Squid looked up and saw the woman was tearing, and it made him queasy. She was a very beautiful woman, with lips glossed in rouge and hair twisted in a tight bun. He didn't think she looked 'distraught' as the papers described her; she looked stern and sharp, never shedding a tear unless needed. But as he looked at her dark eyes he noted that the shutters usually cutting of her sentiment were open revealing rage bubbling beneath the green surface. "I wake up every day with the image of your face smiling as you murder him, over and over, imprinted on the inside of my eyelids. And I don't care if the judge said it was manslaughter – it was and is murder!" Her voice was strong and raging, with her eyebrows narrowed dangerously as she looked at him with pure loathing. She didn't look much like April – in fact there wasn't really any resemblance, the woman however reminded him a lot of David. Squid scowled as she let out a dry sob; it was sickening. "He was my son, my only son. But it doesn't even seem like you care – like you actually have no remorse for what you did." That was when Squid snapped. Eyes flashing with annoyance he looked straight at her with a stiff jaw.
"Well how absolutely heart-wrenching," he snapped, tone dripping with sarcasm. "You don't want me to feel bad for what I've done; you want me and every other fucking person to feel sorry for you." Mrs. Deyell's eyes narrowed but her lips stayed tightly pursed as Squid continued. "You can sit here and tell me what a 'selfish' person I am, but don't even try and convince me that you are any different. I mean 'Your only child', doesn't there seem to be somethin' wrong about that statement? And then there's all this 'I never want to see your face ever again' bullshit, when here you are. Does no one ever even consider that maybe I don't want to see your fuckin' face either?" He should have stopped, but the rage was pouring from his lips into words "You are a fucking phony! You're just here for some shitty story aren't you? Just like everyone else. Well I'm tired of being made a meal out of, where people just pick and pick until there's nothing left. You lost your son and yet I'm the one who is left robbed?" Mrs. Deyell didn't look teary or angry at that moment, she almost looked sympathetic but then it contorted in sick humor. The stony silence only remained for a moment as a cruel chuckle left Mrs. Deyell's lips.
"I saw the interview you had with that reporter about my daughter," at those words Squid's chest tightened. "I don't care what you say or think, but I love my daughter and I came here today to make thoroughly sure that she will not be seeing you again. I don't know what you promised her or what you've been saying, but whatever she's looking for, she won't be finding it from you." Her tone was final and dark as she stood from her chair and he watched as she left with only the clicking of her heels following. Squid's anger flared but he kept still, allowing his eyes to follow her as she left. But as she paused waiting for the guards to unlock the door, Squid rose from his chair.
"She will come, I hope you know that." Mrs. Deyell turned and saw the gleam in Squid's eye as he stared back at her; it was a look she would come to recall for the rest of her life.
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The train ticket between Squid's fingers set a wave of confusion to wash over April's face as he pulled it from his pocket and laid it on the table. It looked old, the once crisp edges were frayed and the card was slightly crumpled. Running his fingers over the surface of the ticket he looked up at April.
"I'm confused." April's soft voice echoed against the bare walls. "Is this what you wanted to show me?" Squid could see that the dark circles had become darker around her eyes, and her lips looked torn and dry, with the rest of her face pale. Squid placed the ticket on the table and slid it under the slot of the glass.
"I took this – it was in his pocket, and I took it, straight out of the pocket of the person I just killed," he rambled. He made sure he hadn't looked her in the eye as he spoke. He saw as her pale fingers delicately take hold of the ticket and bring it closer to her face, her finger-pads brushing across the surface. Looking up at her face, Squid saw her eyes following over the number hand-written on the back of the train ticket, in black ink. Her brow furrowed in confusion.
"Why did you give this to me?" she asked, her glassy eyes looking into his "I know my mother came to see you – why not to her, why me?" Her tone almost seemed hurt. Squid swallowed hard the bile rising in his throat.
"I can't even explain to you why I took it in the first place. But, it felt like I was carryin' him around with me, you know?" he began, eyes settling on the table rather than looking at her "It was like I could still feel his heart beating through the ticket – as if he was still there haunting me." a long pause was drawn out as neither of them dared to speak a word in the innocent silence "I gave it to you, because I thought you would understand. There's no escape while it's with me." As he finished, he dared to look up at her, only to see her face contorted in what seemed to be fear or even perhaps anger.
"There's no escape for you anywhere – you can't escape from what you have done," her voice was the harshest he had ever heard from her. Watching as her fingers played on the embossed numbers on the back of the ticket, he drew his face closer to the glass.
"And neither can you." April looked at him, eyes wide and stricken reminding him of a deer caught in headlights. A hard pang erupted in his chest and he felt his insides begin to ache – it was a feeling he had felt before, especially around his mother; it felt like guilt.
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Author's Note - I am so sorry for those who actually do read this story that it took me so long to write. Please, please, please review, I really want to hear what you think so far, even if it's negative, I'm sure I could use the pointers. Thank you!