Deceiver
Chapter Nine - The fear
Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1966
I wasn't aware of that time can stop, that you can leave your body, but that is what it feels like. I'm not me. I'm not here. It's someone else staring out through my eyes, this happens to someone else. Not me.
The time has stopped and all sounds are silenced, except my heart's beats, and I wonder if they echo in the room, if the others can hear them, fast and rapid, if they expose me, what I feel. I can't move, I can't breathe, and I hold on to the only thing that feels real, the blade in my hand, because somewhere, deep inside, I know there's a little voice telling me to fight.
I blink and think that maybe this is just one of my nightmares. Maybe I will wake up soon, with Soda beside me, maybe this is not real.
But I know it is.
I'm not ready to die. I don't want to die. Not yet, not here, not by this man. This wasn't supposed to happen, I know that. I wasn't born for this, I haven't accomplished anything in life yet, I'm too young and I want my brothers. I want Soda to burst through the door, I want Darry to come and save me.
A hand grabs my wrist, suddenly he stands right in front of me - when did he move? - and he takes the switch blade from me and I let him. He looks at it before putting it in his own pocket, then he looks at me again, holds my gaze locked with his. I can't look away. I don't close my eyes.
Should I start to breathe again?
His grip is tight and it hurts. He smiles a little. Then he throws a glance at Sarah, who still hovers in the back, moving her weight slightly from foot to foot.
"Come on, Henry," she says. "Luke."
His grip hardens and I whimper. He drags my arm upwards and I twist to get away, and before I even think of what I'm doing, I put my other hand up, trying to release myself from him. He jerks at my arm, presses me into the wall.
"Hold still, kid."
But I can't. He sighs, and suddenly I'm dragged over the floor and pushed down on the mattress instead.
"Why don't you just do it?" Sarah throws at him.
"Shut up." Henry sits down on his heels in front of me, picks up a half cigarette lying on the edge of the tray and lights it.
"Luke," she urges, pouting. "You couldn't leave because of him. Now take care of it. I don't want to be here."
He stiffens. "I told you to shut up!" His voice is harsh.
"Fine!" Sarah snaps, disappears into the bathroom, and the lock turns in the door behind her.
Henry watches me closely. Thoughts rush, memories from the past, clearer and more vivid than the dreams ever was, and I wonder why I don't do anything. I don't even try to protect myself. But he doesn't move either.
"How did you get here?" he suddenly says, and his voice has a normal pitch. And I remember how he was when we weren't alone, the man my brothers remember. He was nice too, but I can't let him trick me. This is his game. "How the hell did you get here, boy?"
I can't answer. My mouth is dry and I dig my fingers into the blanket I sit on, and my breaths come out more and more rapid, in rate with my heart. I am three years old again.
He laughs at me.
xXx
Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1966
He stands on the driveway when the truck approaches and stops right in front of him. The headlights turn off and he is by the door in a second, throws it open, watching his brother unbuckle.
"They had already closed the office," Darry says tiredly, before Soda has the time to ask, "and the boys homes refused to answer if he's there or not."
"Can they do that?" Soda says, feeling cold, and it's not because of the chilly night. He has to know where his brother is. "Is it even allowed?"
"Unfortunately." Darry jumps out and Soda moves away to give him room.
"But you're his guardian, Darry!"
The older brother sighs, closes the car door and locks it. "Well, if it is like Johnny says, I'm not anymore. They don't have to tell us anything." He starts to move towards he house, and Soda follows him.
"This is fuckin' ridiculous," he spits. "They take him just for a bruise?"
"It's not just that, Soda. It's not that simple." Darry knows they have done nothing wrong, but he also knows how this life looks like from the outside. Just look at their house, their truck, their clothes, the neighborhood... add dead parents to that, add friends with police records a mile long. Add money issues and a drop out brother. Add a thirteen year old with a bruised face. Maybe it is that simple. Of course people will think Pony is better off someplace else, he can understand it, because he thinks so himself sometimes, when he watches that brainy little kid. They all should be better off someplace else. But together. He's selfish enough to want to keep his brothers around. He can't give them everything, but the thought of someone else doing it only makes him nauseous. He will get Pony back, one way or another.
"It is that simple. That fuckin' teacher, I'm gonna kill her, I swear!"
"Soda!"
"What?"
Darry doesn't answer, he just shakes his head and opens up the front door. The house is dark and quiet, making the absence of one brother obvious. Had it been a normal day, Pony had sat in the couch with books and papers, lamps on, maybe even had dinner on the stove.
"But why did she lie to him?" Soda continues when Darry still doesn't say anything. "She said she talked to you."
"She didn't. I don't know why she said that."
Soda takes off his cap and jacket, drops them on the floor where he stands, kicks off his shoes. "I know, you told me on the phone. But this ain't right, Darry."
"Maybe Johnny misunderstood."
"What if he didn't?"
"I'm gonna call them tomorrow, okay? Then we'll find out more." Darry enters the kitchen, opens up a cabinet and picks out a can of mushroom soup. It's no time, no energy for any advanced cooking tonight. Soda follows him in, drops down by the table with a deep sigh.
"He thinks we let him down. I know it." He crosses his arms on the table, leans down to rest his head on them. "What are we gonna do? What if we don't get him back?"
Darry empties the can in a pan, turns on the stove. "We will."
"You don't know that." He closes his eyes, trying to believe it will be okay.
"Make some sandwiches, Soda."
Sodapop straightens up by his brother's words, leans backward in his chair. His depressed mood turns to anger, and he needs a target. "You don't even seem upset by this," he accuses harshly. "They snatched Pony behind our backs and now you just stand there makin' dinner. What the hell, Dar! Do somethin'!"
He can see how his brother stiffens, how his hand stops swirl the soup. Soda bites his lip, lifts up his hands and drag them through his hair, thinking he's going nuts about this. He can't handle this. He just wants his kid brother.
"What do you suggest I'll do?" Darry turns around. "Huh? Sodapop? What am I supposed to do? I don't even know where he is. There's three different homes and I don't know how many foster homes they can have put him in. The office is closed and I don't even know if they will tell me tomorrow. There's nothing I can do right now, and if you think that it doesn't bugs me, you're wrong!" His voice raises with every word until he almost shouts. He tries to calm down. "It more than just bugs me. Jesus, Soda, he's not just your brother -" He stops talking when Soda rises. "Where are you goin'?"
"Out."
He almost runs from the kitchen, through the living room, slams the front door shut behind him, hard.
xXx
Oklahoma state Penitentiary, McAlester, Oklahoma, 1943
The first night he can't sleep. But he doesn't move, doesn't twist and turn in bed, afraid of drawing to much attention upon himself.
The place is worse than he ever imagined, if he ever imagined it at all. Maybe he didn't. If he had, maybe he had thought twice about what he was doing. Not that he had a choice anyway. Sometimes the path you have to walk on has too high fences on its sides- you can't get away, you have to keep going, can't change direction. That's what he tries to tell himself. He had no fucking choice.
His mind goes back to the evening when everything went wrong, it goes back to the trial, and in both cases, the absence of one person. He never showed up. Darrel managed to take another turn in life, and by that, he abandoned him, and Henry feels his blood boil. It could have been the other way around. He could be the one who is free, Darrel could be the one locked inside this place instead. Or they both could have been in Tulsa, free as birds, with money in their pockets, if he hadn't stood him up.
The bunk bed he lies in is uncomfortable. Noises and muffled screams fill the air. Someone curses loudly and guards shout at them to shut up. This is his life now, for several years. He wonders if he will ever get used to it.
He doesn't hear his cell mate move, but he feels the hand clamp over his mouth. His eyes snap open.
"Shut up," a voice whisper, "and fuckin' do as I say. Then you maybe survive, ya dig?"
xXx
Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1966
Outside he discovers he forgot the keys to the truck, so he kicks it and leaves on foot, not wanting to face Darry right now. He knows running is not the answer, but he must do something. He can't just sit home, like Darry, eat and hope everything will be fine the next day. What if it's not?
He rarely smokes, but now he needs a cigarette. Calm his nerves. But his pockets are empty, so he shoves his hands deep down in them, to keep them from punch everything he walks by, trees and fences and cars. God, it's itching inside him and he just wants to scream. Maybe he overreacts, maybe this isn't that bad, Pony will be fine, Pony is a tough kid, Pony will come home when they win in court, but- what if they don't? The state just took him. Lied to get him to come and that must mean that Pony didn't want to go. Like he doubts it, of course Pony didn't want to go with her.
The worst is that he's unable to protect him. Unable to comfort him, to tell him it's gonna be all right, be there when he has his nightmares.
He has reached the park, the playground, and he walks up to the swings and sits down. He stares at his shoes, wondering when things started to go so wrong, and when life will fix itself again. Because this... he can't take it anymore. He just can't.
xXx
Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1956
"It's Pony's birthday next week," Darrel says, sipping his beer. They both sit in the bar, by the counter, Darrel straight from his job, Henry new awake. He rubs his tired eyes. His landlord stopped him in the stairs on his way down here, handed him a paper. He has to pay the three months of rent he's late with, or be kicked out. He gave him a week. This is fucking shit.
Darrel paid for his beer and it tastes more bitter than it should.
"Anne usually has some people over, maybe you want to come."
No fucking way. "Sure."
He went upstairs again, paper in hand, and called Luke, but his brother has it as tight as he. And he has already asked Darrel. The answer was 'no', of course. Coward then, coward now. Always a traitor. The few dollars he handed him was just a punch in the gut.
"Can't believe the little one is four already," Darrel smiles. "Not a baby anymore."
"Yeah." Henry taps his glass with his fingers, sees the glow in his 'friends' eyes as he speaks of his youngest. He wonders what will happen if he told him how he has treated the boy. It would be funny. The kid seems to be Darrel's weak point.
Darrel gulps his remains. "Have to go, or I'll be late for dinner."
"I'll see you," Henry says. When he's alone, he walks up to the payphone, puts in a coin. The one in the other end answers quickly, and he takes a deep breath.
"It's Henry. You got a job for me?" he asks.
xXx
Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1966
There's a sound and he turns around, quickly and frowning, but when the dark shadow steps out in the light from a lamp in the park, he relaxes again.
"Geez, Steve."
"It's the middle of the night, Soda," Steve says dryly. "What are you doin'?"
There's no way he can say it without being blunt, so he just exclaims it. "The state got Pony."
"What? Shit..." He doesn't really know what to say. "You're kiddin' me, right?"
Soda's eyes harden. "You really think I should joke about this, Steve?"
Steve leans against the swings' metal frame. "No," he says, unable to hide his shocked expression. "Fuck."
Soda's hands fidget. "You got any weed?"
"Yeah, hold on." Steve digs up his pack. "But what about you? They let you stay?" he asks worried as he reaches it out. Soda takes a cigarette, shakes his head.
"Seems like it. Guess it's because... hell, I don't even know. They took him when he was alone. I wasn't even there."
"He'll come back. Don't worry."
"Yeah." He takes the lighter from Steve's hand. "Or I go and get him anyway, I swear. He's not gonna grow up in some foster home." He drags eagerly on his cigarette. "I don't even know where he is, Steve. What if he needs me?"
"The kid's all right, Soda. He's not a damn baby."
"Yeah, but you know what's goin' on about that man, too. The fuzz doin' nothin' about it and how are we supposed to protect him now?" He knows he sounds desperate. "Just tell me how."
At first Steve's quiet. But then he says, "Maybe it's a good thing then that he's away."
Soda can only stare at him at first. "You better take that back, Steve!" he spits. "It ain't good at all."
"You know I didn't mean it like that. But if the state has him, if that man wants somethin' with him, he doesn't know where he is, right?"
Soda drops his cigarette butt in the sand. It doesn't matter. He still wants Pony home. He still doesn't know how to handle this night, and he can't even think of what may happen tomorrow. If they don't get any answers... He rubs his nose. "Your old man kicked you out?" he changes the subject, too tired, too sad to really talk about it.
"Yeah. Was on my way home to you."
Soda sighs. "Then lets go."
xXx
Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1966
I have heard that when you're about to die, you see your life rush in front of your eyes, from birth until now, and you see everything you have done and everything you haven't, but all I can see is my brothers and all I can think of is that I want to go home.
And I wonder how my life could lead up to this, and I'm only thirteen, but I know what he did to me when I was so much younger, and I know what he did to my parents. I don't have any illusions. I know it won't matter what I do. So I don't flinch when he reaches his hand out, puts his finger on my lips, quiet, then down to my throat, tapping cold fingerprints on my skin. I just close my eyes, thinking of Soda's face, his happy eyes and happy smile, I think of chocolate cakes and sunsets, running track with the wind in my hair and books and music on the radio, I think of movies, I think of Darry and our friends, and I think of my parents, how they used to laugh and love us, and how I never even thought we could lose them, never even thought that someone can hate you so much-
I just know how much you love cliffhangers, so I had to give you another one.
Oh, you don't?
Sorry... then I guess I'm just a bit evil :P
(please review anyway?)