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 – Sorry for the horridly long wait, lots of Coursework to be finished.
Chapter Twelve
"God"
Rain poured from the skies and dribbled down the window pain, distorting the picture inside. Trickles of the water stained the ceiling of the shabby room and small drips fell; though the occupants couldn't really notice that now. Blistering old winds may have been howling and the merry cheer of drunks echoed outside, but it was so far away that the two didn't notice – well at least it seemed far away to them. The flustering hearts, drummed quickly in their chests as they breathed – their throats both dry and bodies shaking; one from fear the other from what seemed to be excitement.
"Do you hate me, April?" he asked in mockery, his hands clutching her arms tight. His breath was surprisingly hot – she wondered how anything but cold could be produced from such a monster. April's eyes dared to lock with his, gazing with a judging glare; trying to figure out his motive. "Do you?" he whispered, crushing her harder against the wall, where her equally helpless shadow stood against, his head bowed to gaze down upon her – patronizing her. His nails pinched at the soft skin of her wrists as he clutched them tighter, growling at her pathetic whimper. A low chuckle left his throat watching as she hung like a doll in his arms; his marionette doll. "You don't hate me – you feel fuckin' sorry for me, don't ya', April?" He mumbled, his eyes so focused on her face, watching her reactions. "You have so much pity though don't you, April?" Every time her name would pass through his lips she could feel her stomach clench in disgust – she began to resent her name; how he knew it, how he said it, how he would use it against her. "You have so much pity that there's even some left over for scum like me, huh April?" His rough, slightly stubbled face grazed across her face and she winced in revulsion; the feel of his skin irked her. One of his hands left her wrist and gripped at some of her hair – a dish-washer blond, still straggly but at least clean. "You pretend to be so pure, don't you April?" he grumbled, his cheek still against hers. "You try so hard. You try not to hate – but I can feel it, I feel your skin crawling, April." April could feel his eye-lashes brush her skin as he shut his eyes and groaned. "Your disguise is becoming so thin, April – I can almost see straight through you." She shivered and shut her eyes, trying to close off her mind; trying so hard to shut-down.
"What are you trying to prove, Squid?" she whispered, feeling his rough hands wandering beneath the soft cloth covering her sickly body. His breathing became heavy as his clasp tightened around her body, pulling away from the wall and pushing her to the floor, him following.
"Heal me, April," he whispered, his voice so desperate and quiet that the dripping of his tears were louder. "Heal me." Hands roamed and ripped, the cool damp air hitting skin, goose bumps rising, arm hairs becoming erect. Trying to escape was pointless now, you just have to accept and give in to hopeless situations.
"What are you trying to prove?" she asked again. Squid's eyes opened and he smiled; a disgusting twist of lips as his eyes roamed till he reached her face – contorted in determination. He looked at her soft eyes and felt his heart pound and his throat close-up, all noise began to sound muffled – as though hands were pressed against his ears. "Alan! You're hurting me.April's face was gone, replaced with a woman's he'd rather forget – she was screaming, tears spilling down her cheeks – her cries pounding harshly on his ear-drums, reverberating in his head. His nails dug into the flesh beneath him, moving of their own accord, hideous welts breaking the skin, blood dribbling; staining skin. Squid jerked backwards and gasped for air, thrashing around the floor, his head becoming light, and vision swirling. Squid closed his eyes and greeted the darkness as a friend.
His head was aching, and he could feel the cool air dancing on his forehead, evaporating the sweat. His eye-lids slowly opened, and the blinding light from the light-bulb above him, stung his eyes causing him to squint and groan. Twisting his body to the side, he found April perched on the end of the bed, where his was lying. Her bare back to him, revealing her spinal-bone hideously prodding out of her skin, the clasp of a modest white bra as a miniscule cover – she obviously hadn't bothered to dress. Her pearly skin glowed eerily with sweat, contrasting disgustingly with the small scratches marring her skin. She was kneeling on the edge, her hands hung by her sides, dead like a doll's; now purpling from the cold, veins revoltingly visible from beneath her milky skin, knuckles were bruised and finger-nails grubby.
"You're awake," she whispered; her voice hauntingly quiet and fragile. Squid sat up, and rubbed his face with his hands. "I know you loathe yourself, Alan – and so do I, loathe myself that is. Did she hurt you?" Squid could see her shiver as she spoke, perhaps her own words scaring her. The silence hung and Squid closed his eyes.
"I dunno' what you mean," he grumbled, bowing his head. April shifted her weight to her side and laid so innocently at the end of the bed, leaning on her side, her back still to him. His eyes followed over the ribs that the skin was pulled across, the bones ever so noticeable, he then looked to her arm, placed under her head, acting like a pillow, which curled under searching for warmth in the cold room.
"Your mother, did she hurt you? I could hear you screaming in our sleep." Squid's head bowed forward and his hands threaded into his hair and his breath hitched into his throat, his eyes were closed and his head was aching. April swallowed the sick rising in her throat and closed her own eyes. "It's okay," she whispered, her throat croaky and voice worn.
"Don't you dare start this fuckin' shit, April – not you!" Squid bellowed, standing from the bed, fists clenched. "I'm sick of this shit, people pretendin' it's okay, pretendin' they understand – My mum was an amazin' woman. After my fuck-up of a father left, she stuck by with me." Squid's anger was bubbling and he could feel his control slipping. April kept her back to him and weakly shook her head.
"It's not your fault, Alan," she replied. Squid's fist pounded into the nearby wall to his side, which shook the room, his body now shaking like a leaf, ready to fall from the tree.
"She never fuckin' hurt me! It was me – I was just so fuckin' scared! I hit her again, and again, and again," his voice was tearing away, his shouts becoming cries and his legs began to feel like jelly. His heart was showing, pulsating in front of her, its weeping running down his stomach soaking in the carpet – its pain remaining as a stain forever. He should have stopped talking, he should have kept it all in, where it could be forgotten – he didn't want to be a charity case and sympathetic story that at first everyone would aw at before forgetting it to the next sob story. April turned and crawled over across the bed, near to where he stood – her cold hand reached out and clasped his; supplying the strangest of comfort. She bowed her head onto his hand and knelt in front of him. "Don't touch me," he whispered, although he didn't pull away. She moved his hand to her cold cheek, the soft skin rubbing his calloused skin. "Please don't – don't tempt me, April," his voice becoming husky. She kept hold of his hand and looked up at him, her eyes so wide and innocent – so naïve and pure. Squid looked own at her and gulped feeling nausea falling over him.
"You hurt your mother," she comprehended it now; all the guilt he held, carrying it around, piling atop his back slowly crushing him. "Why?" Squid shifted uncomfortably, his heart pounding harder before and yet it felt so numb to him, but April could feel it; she even swore that she could see it.
"I ain't here to be a sob story – I ain't some story to be published for these people who will quickly glance at the headline on the front cover and sigh, before returning to their selfish little lives. They'll go on to talk with their little friends, sayin' how terrible it is and then about how the mother should have hugged him more, or maybe that his father shouldn't have worked such long hours – they'll judge it, when they don't have a fuckin' clue," Squid paused suddenly, "They don't know." April could feel him shaking; his muscles twitching with discomfort, baring things, which they knew should have kept hidden. Squid took a deep breath, holding the air inside of his lungs for longer than usual, before slowly allowing it to escape; just like everything else he once possessed. "My dad did have the balls to return once – I remember bein' about fifteen an' when he came through the door I hardly recognized him, he…" Squid shifted and bowed his head lower "he…looked just like me," he finished drawing each word with disgust and anger, perhaps even with a tinge of sadness. "My ma' jus' took him back – she fuckin' welcomed him with a hug and a kiss. I told her to turn him away, but she bought his apologies like cigarettes." Squid gulped down harshly as the sick rose in his throat, a cold bead of sweat rolling down his forehead, down his neck before finally resting in the nook of his collar bone.
"What happened?" April asked, voice delicate. Squid could feel his body shiver at the thoughts that twisted in his brain. Squid landed on the only emotion he could handle; anger.
"It ain't none of your fuckin' business, April!" he seethed, voice hoarse and knuckles near-white where his fists were clenched. Squid's eyes closed, concealing the windows – so nobody could see inside; even if it meant he would never feel the light inside of him.
Squid could still feel the belt in his hands, its smooth outface almost soft on his skin, the gold buckle glittering with malice in the dim light. He remembered clutching it in his small hands, his breath hitched within his throat, heart pounding, veins shivering with tension. The room had been silent apart from the quiet cooing from his father, his hot breath down Squid's neck, his breath smeared with the breath of alcohol. "Do it, Alan, become a man." Squid had looked down at his mother, her face impassive, but eyes gleaming with tears. "It's okay, Alan" His mother had hushed. Squid remembered taking a harsh gulp of air – containing his tears, sucking in the pain as he swung the belt high – its body dancing in the air, before the belt smacked harshly down onto his mother's skin; like a rabid snake. The belt's gold fangs broke the skin; her crimson blood weeping from the cut, dribbling down her skin. He could remember the final cheer of his father, before he tore himself away from the memory and looked down at April, now kneeling, and hands clasped together, praying.
"There ain't no God, April," Squid whispered, his words crackling in his throat as he spoke. She looked back at him, her cheekbones looking more prominent, with skin hanging off if them, cheeks hollow and eyes wide.
"I never said there was, it's just easier to believe in something – to have faith is something, rather than knowing this is all pointless," she whispered, her voice now level, eyes caught with his.
"Yeah, it's easier – but it don't make it true or worthwhile," he hissed, narrowing his eyes. "God is a joke," he pronounced every word with disgust and spite. April sighed and cocked to her head to the side in curiosity.
"You seem so sure; I have my doubts but you seem unable to see any other way."
"Fine, April. Tell me something, God forgives all, right?" April nodded "Would he forgive me, April? Forgive for all these sins that I have committed – disgusting enough to turn any church to rubble, would he forgive me?" his lips twisted upwards into a cruel smirk, eyes narrowed like slits, staring at her a knowing mask covering his face. April paused, closing her eyes slowly, allowing her weary vision to rest, before locking eyes with him once again.
"Yes"