Chapter 13
Misty's hands were bound in a chair, and they had taken her some place that smelled musty, and molded. It was dark, and only a lamp in the corner cast an uneven glare over this very tiny, dirty room. A cockroach scurried across the floor and Misty felt her skin crawl. She had passed out when the man covered her mouth, probably from chloroform, she had barely even screamed before she blacked out and woke up here.
She immediately tried to struggle out of the rough ropes that bound her hands, but she couldn't break them free. They were bound so tight that her hands were actually becoming numb.
Something moved in the dark corner off to the side, and when the door opened she actually saw it was off the side and led into a kitchen. She was in a garage. She was in someone's house. But where? She wasn't sure if she was out for 5 minutes, or 5 hours, but she knew it was still nighttime outside, but then again, she could have been out for an entire day and not have known it.
A man appeared, and she did not recognize him. He was tall, slender, with hard features and a pointy nose. His eyes were a cold blue, and his bear was a graying white, with heavy wrinkles around his mouth. He smelled of old car oil, cigarettes, and stale beer.
He smiled at her, his wrinkles becoming more apparentt around his mouth.
"Hey there, Pretty Lady," he said, scooting a chair from the corner of the room and sitting in front of her. "Sleep well?"
She wanted to kick him, punch him, even spit in his face, but she was too frightened to get her brain to communicate with her body, all she could manage was a whimper. Oh God! Was she raped? Did he touch her? Her baby! She hoped he didn't do anything to her that would hurt her baby!
"Silent type, eh?" He asked, laughing. "I should have put a gag on you, but I can see you'll keep quiet. Oh, I've been waiting a long, long time to get me a piece of you, honey."
Misty recoiled in disgust as he traced his finger along her cheek. "So pretty. So incredibly beautiful. I'll let you go if you fuck me."
"N-never in your life!" She asserted her voice, and scowled at him.
"Oh, I like it when they resist," he laughed and Misty struggled against the ropes again.
"When my husband finds you, you're as good as fucking dead!" She screamed.
The man stifled a laugh, mockingly. "You think he's going to find you? By the time he does, I will have already gotten what I wanted, and be long gone. If you cooperate, he will find you alive. If you don't...Well, he's a goodlooking guy. He'll remarry before too long."
Misty stood to her feet, which were also bound, but she managed to head but him onto the ground, knocking him against the concrete. The wooden chair she was bound to splintered and cracked, and she felt a surge of excitement. She had to get out here!
The man was already getting up and Misty lay helplessly on the floor, tied to a chair with bound hands and feet. The man approached her and roughly picked her up, she could smell his fetid breath and tried to resist throwing up.
"You want to be a little bitch, huh?" He asked, slapping her across the face so hard, the room spun and she was dizzy. He threw her back down and dropped to his knees next to her.
"I'm going to kill you, you son of a bitch!" She screamed at him and he pulled out a red tied ribbon, putting it in her mouth.
"Shut up!" He said. "I'm gonna go get my buddy, he wanted to piece of you, too. So you better not try anything or we won't keep you alive. And please, when I'm fucking you, call me by my name." He said, then in a low voice that gave Misty the most creepiest feeling the world he whispered his name into her ear.
"Charlie."
...
The trick or treaters had dried up hours ago, and Brock knew it was close to midnight. He had been searching everywhere, at every house, behind every tree, he had even gotten in his car and gone to some back alleys, but eventually returned back to the neighborhood.
It was bone-chilling cold tonight, and the moon was hidden by thick clouds. He gathered up a knife and a flashlight, and had tried calling Misty on her cell phone for 60th time, but had received no response. He was getting scared now, and the police wouldn't help him.
Why? They knew who he was. He was Brock Harrison, he practically owned this city, or his parents did anyway, and one day he would too. Why would his beautiful wife, with a four year old daughter and another baby on the way pack up and leave now? That wasn't the way Misty was and they all knew it.
It sickened him, to say the least.
He was at the O'Brien's house, who lived about a block from where his house was. They had said they hadn't seen Misty, but they would help him look. In fact, he had gotten several of his neighbors to search for her, but at half past midnight approached, Brock started to feel hopeless. His daughters weren't asleep when he came back to the Rockingham's.
Mrs. Rockingham had taken them inside, given them some warm soup and let them watch cartoons from their grandchildren's collection of DVD's. Brock was just about to take the girl's back home and have Rose and Flint watch them while he went back out and searched for Misty, but then Eevee appeared, seemingly out of nowhere.
She scratched on Brock's leg and looked at him. Brock knelt down to her. "Hey, girl. What's up?"
She squealed a high pitch squeal and ran ahead of him. "Do...Do you know where Misty is?"
She turned back and made sure he followed her. He looked at Mrs. Rockingham. "I'm sorry, I have to go check this out."
"Take your time," They both said and Brock bolted after Eevee, jumping over shrubs on the way as Eevee picked her speed. He had almost lost her, but she had stopped just a few yards away at a house that Brock had believed was vacant. A "For Sale" sign was posted in the front yard and it hadn't been sold. It was dark and needed a lot of work done.
Eevee ran to the door and scratched with her claws, squealing loudly, then looking back at Brock.
Without thinking, Brock ran to the garage door, which was drawn and locked.
"Misty!" He screamed. "Misty!"
She heard him, but she couldn't respond. Oh God, he had found her! She knew he would, but how would he get in? She wasn't sure he could have even seen her if he did peek in through the windows, but when she looked at the windows, she realized they had been covered with black paper.
She heard Eevee's claws at the door. Eevee led him here.
Brock found a large rock that the neighbors lined their tree dirt.
"Misty, back away from the window," he said, and chucked the rock at the window, shattering the glass. Misty cowered from the glass, but the rock had fallen hard back down in the dirt, almost crushing Brock's foot, but he had moved. Eevee ran over to him and Brock climbed up the side of the wall, and in through the the window, knocking the extra glass in the floor.
Her eyes went wide, and he quickly removed the gag and untied her hands and feet. She wrapped her arms around his neck and started crying.
"Hey, Hey, Hey! It's OK, I got you now," he said softly. "Shhh. You don't want to make too much noise, OK? Who did this to you?"
"I don't know," Misty said, trying to keep her sobs quiet. "I don't know. I just want to go home."
"Alright, we'll go home," he said. "We'll go home and call the police." He said, keeping her close to him. She was bruised and her face was bloody from where she had been slapped. The garage door was loud as it opened, and just as they made it to the end of the driveway, Brock saw the two men race into the garage.
"Hey!" One of them yelled, and a bullet richocheted of the ground. Misty's eyes went wide and they quickened their pace, racing down the street, taking cover behind cars until they were far enough away that they were sure the men weren't following them anymore.
Misty kept looking behind her, in fear, but Brock kept looking straight ahead. By the time they reach their house, the men were not following them and Brock immediately phoned the police, then picked up his keys and headed out to his truck.
"Stay here, Babe. Don't open the door for anyone except the cops, Alright?" Brock kissed her forehead and she grabbed onto his arm.
"Please don't leave, Brock," she said, tears welling up in her eyes, blinding her.
"I have to go get the kids," Brock told her. "They are at the Rockingham's and it's already so late."
"I'll get them," Rose spoke up, and Brock hesitated for a moment. He didn't trust Rose driving his car, but it was just down the street a bit, and she seemed sober enough tonight, and he didn't want to leave his wife, not even for a second, after what she had been through.
Misty sobbed into his shoulder, her entire body shaking. Brock started a fire to warm her up, and wrapped her in a heavy blanket, only leaving her to go into the kitchen and put on some hot cocoa for her. Just as the water heated up, there was a knock at the door.
"Pewter City Police Department," a voice said, and Brock looked through the peephole. Two uniformed officers stood at the door and he turned around to face Misty.
"It's alright, Honey," he said, twisting the knob. "It's the police."
He let them in, one of the officers was detective Stone.
"Hey, Mr. Harrison," he said, shaking his hand, then his eyes fell on Misty. She looked positively petrified.
"Mrs. Harrison," he said, careful to approach her. He didn't sit down until Brock had come back from the kitchen, carrying a large mug full of hot cocoa for his wife, and he settled down next to her, the warmth from the fire was warming all of them up, and Misty felt herself start to come down off of the anxiety she had been feeling since that gloved hand covered her mouth.
"Are you feeling alright to talk to us?" Detective Stone asked, and Misty looked up at Brock, and he gave her a reassuring smile. The kind of smile that could always calm her down, no matter what. She shook her head, still feeling a bit unsure. Every little noise the house made had her on edge, and she wasn't sure if she could fully relax until Fiona and Holly were back, safe and sound.
"Tell me everything that happened, what you can remember," Officer Stone said, and the other officer pulled out a notepad. Misty told them everything. From the time the man in the black outfit stole the girl's candy, to the time she felt herself being grabbed, and the dark, musty, cold garage she was in.
"Did you get a name of the man who did this to you?" Stone asked, as his partner wrote down details.
"He had blue eyes. A white beard. Lots of wrinkles..." she closed her eyes, and she felt Brock's arm around her. The image of his face came flooding back and she felt fear grip her again, but she felt the warmness of Brock next to her, and reminded herself that she was safe now. Everything was alright.
"His name...was Charlie," she said, finally opening her eyes. Brock felt his mouth go dry.
Charlie...
Why did that name sound so familiar? Why did that name hold signifigance to him?
"He had a partner," Misty spoke up, as more memories came back to her. "But I never saw his face. I'm sorry I can't be of more help."
"You're doing fine, Mrs. Harrison," Detective Stone said with a smile.
The front door opened and Misty jumped, sloshing hot cocoa on herself, but she didn't seem to notice. Her anxiety immediately died down when she saw it was just her mother, Fiona and Holly came running up to her, both of them wrapping their arms around her and crawling into her lap.
"That's all the questions we have for right now," Detective Stone said, standing up. "I know it's been a long night and you guys probably need some rest and time with your family. We're going to investigate the house and keep extra patrol on the neighborhood."
"Thank you," Misty said, holding both Holly and Fiona close to her. Brock showed them out of the house and then joined his wife back on the couch. Rose had taken a seat in the chair by the window.
"Honey, what happened?" Rose asked her.
"I was..." she looked at the girls, then back at her mother. "I was taken by a very bad man, but Brock rescued me."
"Just like a princess?" Fiona asked, smiling and Misty smiled back.
"Just like a princess."
Brock grinned at them. "Why don't you girls go upstairs and wash up? It's very late, way past your bedtime."
"But Daddy," Fiona argued, but Brock pointed towards the stairs.
"I'll be up in a minute," he promised and Holly obeyed him, not arguing like Fiona did. She wanted to make Brock happy. She hoped maybe then he could become her dad.
Once the girls disappeared up the stairs, Brock sat back down next to Misty and pulled her close, letting the fire warm them.
"Rose, Misty said the man who attacked her was named Charlie," he said, and he watched Rose's expression turn grim.
"Charlie..." she repeated. "Are you sure?"
Misty nodded. "I'm sure. Why? Is something wrong?" She looked from Brock to her mother, back to Brock again.
"Charlie was the name of the man I was with...the man who got me into drugs," Rose said, shamefully, looking towards the fire. He had always said that he would find me again some day."
"I think he's the one who attacked Fiona and Holly at Eve's house," Misty said, tears stinging her eyes again. "I just have this feeling...He was so creepy!"
Brock kissed her softly on the cheek. "Come on, Babe. Let's go up to bed, alright? It's been a long night."
Misty wanted nothing more than to just curl up in bed next to her husband, so she didn't protest. However, Rose Vaughn would not sleep. She grabbed her keys from her purse, once her daughter and son-in-law disappeared up the stairs for the night, and stepped out into the cold night, her breath visible from her lips like a puff of smoke.
Her red BMW started up, despite the cold, and she wiped away the cold frost forming on her window. She knew where she was going, and she knew who she was going to find there. She just didn't know what she was going to do once she got there.
...
Rose arrived at the house with For Sale sign in front of it. The yard was unmowed, no one had lived in this house since earlier in the year, and none of the neighbors bothered to keep up with it. She got out of her BMW, and went to the front door knocking.
She didn't get a reply right away, but she knew Charlie, and she knew he was slow and old. He was in his mid-forties, but looked like he was near sixty. She heard a shuffling around in the house behind the door, and she instantly recognized him, though he had aged, when he answered the door.
His eyes went wide, and she could tell he was drunk. Probably high.
"Rose..." he said, his drunken gaze turning into a smile. "Come on in."
She did, stepping over the treshhold, the smell of stale beer and cigarettes hit her in the face. The house was laid out exacly like Brock's house was, but where Brock's chandalier in the entrance hallway was, there was only a bare lightbulb. No furniture adorned the living room, just pillows piled up in a corner.
No big screen television. Just a blank wall. No fire place to keep the house warm, just cold emptiness. She started to shiver.
"Charlie, you attacked my daughter," Rose said softly, and Charlie laughed and shook his head.
"She was a feisty one," He pulled out a can of beans and popped it open with a pair of keys. "Want some?"
"No," Rose responded, unzipping her purse.
He just shrugged and began eating. "She's a beauty though. Just like you. That daughter of hers, too..." he shook his head and grinned, a tooth missing in his fetid mouth.
Rose felt something rip through her and she slipped her hand on the purse, feeling the cold metal of her gun. Brock had said he didn't want it in the house, she knew he hated guns.
He was a no-violence type of liberal man. He had always been so, he was well-educated, level-headed, and good-looking. He hated violence, and she knew her daughter felt the same way, especially since that time she had shot Tracey with his own gun, she had been set against the things since then. But Rose had always liked guns. She liked the weight of them in her hands. The cool metal on her palm.
She was going to use her gun, and she was going to use her gun on charlie.
"How do you know what her daughter looks like?" Rose finally asked, the gun warming in her palm.
He winked at her. "I give cocaine to Eve Castillo," he said, holding a finger up to his lips. His nails were yellowed, long and dirty and Rose felt disgusted. "Eve don't have enough money to pay me, so she lets me have her way with her daughter. Anyway, about a week ago, she had two girls in there. And I knew the moment I saw Fiona she was your granddaughter."
Rose pulled out the gun, pointing it straight at him.
"You sick Bastard!" She yelled, and Charlie dropped his can of beans.
"Hey, whoa. Whoa! What are you doing baby?" He asked, holding up his hands. "I ain't never raped a child, alright? I wasn't going to rape her. I just wanted to look at her. Since when is that a crime?"
"That is my granddaughter!" Rose snarled at him. "And Misty, she is my baby! You were going to rape her tonight, weren't you Charlie?"
"I was going to seduce her, not rape her," he countered, backing up against the kitchen wall. The kitchen was empty, no kitchen island of dining table like there was in Brock's kitchen.
"She wouldn't sleep with you," Rose said, her eyes glowering at him as she held the heavy gun in her hands. "Why would she want a low life like you when she's married to Brock Harrison? He's handsome, rich, and practically owns this entire city. Why would she want you?"
Charlie swallowed hard. "Rose, let's just...talk about this, alright?"
"I'm done talking, Charlie," she said, holding the gun to his temple. She saw him tremble with fear. "You will never have the chance to go after my daughter or my granddaughter again."
A shot rang out into the night. A sound lost to all the neighbors who slept in their warm beds in the black of night. Only Fiona noticed the lights of her grandmother's BMW as she pulled up outside, and watched her stuff her gun back in her purse.
...
Misty had slept surprisingly well. She didn't think she'd get a wink of sleep that night, but as soon as she fell into bed, felt Brock's weight and warmth beside her, sleep came very easily. Brock didn't sleep so well, though. He had tried, and he had even dozed off some, but he couldn't relax. His adrenaline had been pumping so hard just a few hours ago, and now that it wasn't anymore, he felt so exhausted, but his mind just wouldn't let him sleep.
He heard the door open downstairs and he felt hid body tense up. He had locked the door. He knew he had locked the door! Normally, any other night he would have assumed his father stepped outside for a smoke, but not tonight. He grabbed the metal baseball bat by the closet, careful not to wake Misty up.
He snuck downstairs, and heard someone walk into the entrance hall. As he turned the corner, ready to strike, he saw that it was Rose and he immediately stopped.
"Oh, My Goodness!" Rose said, clutching her chest. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you, Honey."
"I'm...I'm sorry," he stammered, suddenly feeling stupid. "I'm just paranoid."
"You don't have anything to be afraid of anymore," she told him, patting him on the shoulder. "I took care of it."
"W-what did you do?" Brock asked, and Rose patted her purse, tapping the leather with her perfectly manicured nails.
"Nobody messes with my child or my grandchild," she smiled at him and went up the stairs. Brock knew what she had done. She had shot Charlie, and now the bastard was dead.
He detested violence. He didn't like guns. But he also didn't like pedophiles, and rapists. And he couldn't help but smile just a little bit, knowing that one less scum was on the earth tonight.
...
Fiona awoke, hearing the sharp sound of a car door slam shut. She had always associated that sound with her father getting home from work, but it was dark outside, and the middle of the night. She lifted the blinds on her windows and saw her grandmother Rose walking up the sidewalk that led to the front door.
She stuffed something shiny and metal into her purse and then walked into the house. She heard footsteps in the hallway, and then heard her grandmother shout, and the muffled voices of her grandmother and father.
She heard the sound of her grandmother's heels on the hardwood floor in the hallway, then the closing of a door and then silence. She settled back down in her blanket, pulling the extra blanket her mother had given her because of the cold night, up to her chin as well.
Holly was sound asleep, and hadn't woken up through anything.
Fiona closed her eyes and felt her grogginess try to take over, but something startled her awake again. It wasn't from outside, this time, it was from inside the house. Inside her room.
Her eyes shot towards her closet. In there.
The door to her closet opened, and she saw half of a man's face poke out, but he had put a finger to his lips. A scream was caught in her throat, and she couldn't move. The man opened the closet more, and smiled at her as he emerged from it.
"Don't be afraid," he whispered, and Fiona's eyes went wide. It was the first time the man in her closet had talked. She had seen him before, but he never spoke. He just smiled at her, then retreated back into the closet, and when her dad had come in and searched it, he was gone. It must have been a dream, or her imagination.
Fiona remembered her parents were watching something on television about ghosts. Maybe this man was a ghost.
"W-who are you?" Fiona's voice sounded very tiny in the big empty room. Eevee was awake now, and her fur was standing on end, emmitting a low, vicious growl at the man.
"I'm a friend," he said, creeping closer to her. "An old friend of your mommy's actually. And I'm Holly's daddy."
Fiona gasped. "Holly's daddy?"
"Shhh," He said, putting his finger to his lips. "It's late. Everyone is supposed to be asleep."
Fiona put a hand over her mouth, and she felt the man sit on the edge of her bed, his weight pulling the bed down and pushing her up. Eevee growled viciously and snapped at the man, but he slapped Eevee in her face.
"Don't slap my Eevee!" Fiona yelled.
"I said be quiet!" He demanded, hearing Eevee whimper in defeat. The Pokemon rushed towards the door, struggling to open it.
"Do you know that I love your mommy very much?" He asked, and Fiona shook her head.
"My daddy loves my mommy," she said, curling her knees up to her chest. She didn't trust this man. Not at all. She could tell he was a bad man, and her parents had always told her never to talk to strangers, but as long as he didn't touch her, she'd be safe.
"I love your mommy more," he said, his lips curling into a smile. A smile that sent fear straight into Fiona's heart. "My name is Tracey. What is your name?"
"F-fiona," she stammered, blinking, and her dry eyes had teared up, just from staring too long.
"Your mommy loved me so very much," Tracey said to her, and Fiona clutched onto her charmander doll. "But your daddy stole her. Don't you know it's bad to steal?"
Fiona nodded. "You shouldn't take things that aren't yours. That's what my daddy always says."
"Funny he should say that," Tracey said, his voice taking on a tone that scared Fiona, then he smiled again. "Do you know where I've been living at Fiona?"
She shook her head.
He simply pointed towards the closet. "How would you like it if I became your daddy?"
Fiona stared at him, wide-eyed. "But I like my daddy."
"Ah," Tracey waved through the door. "But I'm a better daddy. You would love me. And I already love your mommy more than your daddy does."
"But..."
Tracey's face was right to hers, and his warm breath blew across the side of her face.
"I'd kill for her."
Fiona froze and a loud scream errupted from her throat. Like a ninja, Tracey immediately jumped back into the closet and no sooner had he closed the door, Brock and Misty were at the door. Holly was now groggily waking up.
"Honey, what's wrong?" Misty rushed over to her bedside and sat down.
"There is a man in my closet," she said, and Brock had grabbed his baseball bat, he was still paranoid, even though he knew Rose had killed off the pedophile, and they had an alarm system.
"Honey, I've always checked your closet," Brock said, sitting down on the bed next to Fiona.
Fiona's tears grew heavier. "He was in here!" She demanded, and Eevee scratched at the closet, looking back at Misty and Brock.
Misty watched as Brock got up and approached the closet, and she held Holly and Fiona close to her. Brock checked through the clothes, even getting down on his knees and moving around her shoes that were lined up on the floor. Nothing.
"Sweety, there is nothing in here," Brock said, even so much as going into the closet himself and hiding himself behind her clothes. He was still clearly visible. Every corner of her closet was checked before he stepped out.
"I saw him, daddy," Fiona said, as Misty placed her back into bed and pulled the blankets around her chin.
"I think you just had a bad dream," Misty said, kissing her forehead. "We've all had a rough night."
Eevee jumped back on the bed and laid down, and Misty patted her head. "Keep the girls safe, OK, Eevee?"
The bedroom door closed and Fiona looked at her closet. The man was in there. She knew it. Holly hadn't seen him, she didn't even wake up, but he was in there, and he had come out, and sat on her bed, right where he mother sat.
She left her light on, and though Holly had fallen back asleep, Fiona couldn't sleep and for the first time in her little life, she actually watched the sunrise. The horrors from last night were quickly washed away in the blaze of the sun.
...
December 2006
Brock arrived home just a few days before Christmas. Pewter City was always beautiful this time of year. There was usually snow on the ground, and the town was decorated in different kinds of lights that would reflect off the snow. It was awfully cold when he arrived, but he managed to tolerate the rough, cold winds long enough to pull two large bags of gifts from out of the back of his truck.
He was 19 now, and it had been over a year since he had been home. He had been traveling all around Kanto with Misty and Ash, and his heart felt a twinge of pain when he thought about Misty. God, he really did miss her.
It was funny, because he thought he was homesick sometimes when he was traveling around with the two of them, but now that he was home, he was now longing to be back with the two of them, with Misty. It was no matter, he would be back with them soon, after the Holidays, and then Ash would work towards his last two badges and they would be on their way to the Pokemon league.
Misty had went back to Cerulean and Ash had went back to Pallet. They all agreed to meet in Pallet Town and take a boat to Cinnabar Island, where he would face Blaine at the first of the year.
Forest jumped on the back of the couch and looked out the window. "Brock's home!"
Suzy smiled. "Brock's home! Mommy! Brock's home!"
Lola came around the corner, drying her hands on her apron as she watched her oldest son come through the front door, carrying in two huge sacks like he was Santa clause.
He was immediately tackled by his younger siblings.
"Children!" Lola scolded them, trying to sound tough, but still sounding just as soft and as gentle as if she was singing them to sleep. Brock had always loved that about his mother. She was so comforting, even if she didn't want to be.
"Children! Let your brother get in the door, first!" She said, louder, but they hadn't listened. Brock just grinned and wrapped them all up in his arms.
"Alright, guys. Let me move, alright?" He asked, finally able to push him and his bags of presents through the front door and closing the cold wind behind him out.
"You got us presents?" His little brother, Toko asked.
"Have at it, Pipsqueaks," Brock said, watching them tear into the bags. He hadn't bought them specific presents, just a bunch of them, that they could go through, pick out what they wanted, and even trade. It was a tradition he had done for them back when he was the one raising them, and it was something he had kept up.
Finally, he hugged his mother, and she closed her eyes, taking in the scent of him. Oh, she had missed him so much!
"Hey Momma," he said, softly. "How are you?"
"Tired. Busy," she grinned. "Oh, look how handsome you have gotten!"
"Pft," he laughed. "Tell that to the ladies. I can't barely even get a girl to talk to me."
"That's because you're so handsome they are shy," Lola reassured him, but he didn't believe her and he gave her a lopsided grin that told her he didn't believe her.
"How are things around here?" He asked, and Lola immediately knew he was asking how things were with Flint.
"Better," she said, wiping down the counter. "Flint still goes to his AA meetings once a week on Wednesday nights. He's running the gym. Says if you ever come back and settle down with a family of your own, the gym is yours."
"Yea, but you know I'm not really into being a gym leader," Brock said, and Lola's eyes sparkled at him.
"Honey, you are so talented, and smart," she said. "The Pokemon League would kill to have you work in one of these gyms. Your father is trying, but he can't get us as credited as we were when you were running things."
"I doubt I'll ever settle down," Brock said, grabbing a soda from the fridge and cracking it open. He took a large sip, and coughed as his parched throat was saturated in carbonated, sugary goodness. Lola smiled.
Just then Flint entered the room, and Brock felt the tension in the air. His father's eyes were clear, and he even smiled. He really had quit drinking, hadn't he?
"Hey Son," he said, pulling him into a strong hug and patting his back, rather roughly. "Wasn't expecting you in so early. Thought you weren't coming until tomorrow."
"They are calling for a bad storm tomorrow, so I thought I'd come in early," he said, and then he gestured to the living room. "I gave the kids their big bag of presents."
Flint shook his head. "So you found yourself a wife yet? A Pewter City heir or heiress has to be born soon. I'm sure you don't want to run the gym when you are 70 years old, do ya?"
Brock felt his face heat up and he flushed. "No wife yet. Not even a girlfriend..."
"Well, you're interested in someone ain't ya?" Flint asked, winking at him. "Don't tell me you'd traveled all over this state and haven't been a pretty young thing that's at least caught your eye."
His mind immediately went back to Misty. Hell, what was he kidding? His mind never left her.
A grin formed at his lips and Lola giggled. "Oh, I knew it! My oldest son has a crush on someone."
"Alright, alright," he said, plopping down in one of the kitchen island stools. "There is this one girl. She travels with us. When I left with Ash, he had this girl with him, and I thought she was cute, but over the past year, she's gotten really pretty."
"What's her name?" Lola asked.
"Misty," Brock replied, and Lola's smile faltered, but she maintained it. Misty. No, it couldn't be Rose Vaughn's daughter...She would be sixteen now. The little girl she saw at the convention, when she had caught Rose and Flint in that tent...
She silently cut up celery and didn't say anything else.
"Sounds like a cutie," Flint said, winking at him. "She interested in you?"
"I don't know," Brock said, rubbing the back of his head. "I think she might be into Ash."
Flint made a scoffing sound and shook his head. "That dude was a wimp, and you gave him that badge. He didn't win. If she's interested in that little dweeb and not you, then you should probably put interest in someone else."
Lola scowled at him. "Flint, if Brock likes the girl, then he can like whoever he wants. The girl might not be interested in him now, but then again, she might be. You like her, alot, Brock?"
Brock's eyes locked on his mother's. He knew they still fought sometimes, and he knew it was probably really bad when he wasn't here.
"I like her a whole lot," Brock said, smiling. "I mean, she's so beautiful. She's got these beautiful blue eyes, like the color of the ocean, and her hair it's like silk and the most beautiful shade of red I've ever seen."
Lola was positive this was Rose Vaughn's daughter now.
"Sounds like you're in love," Flint said, picking up a handful of M&M's out of a bowl. "Have you told her how you feel?"
"No," Brock said, shaking his head. "I get rejected all the time, the last thing I want is for Misty to reject me. So I don't flirt with her, or anything...I mean, I kind of flirted with her a few months ago, but I don't think she really picked up on it."
"Young girls won't," Flint said, shaking his head. "You gotta just grab her and kiss her, be a man, show her how you feel."
"But don't be rough with her," Lola cut in, tossing the celery into a pot. "You don't want the girl to think you're desparate. Just romance her."
He blushed. "I can't believe I am talking to you guys about this."
"Oh, c'mon," Flint said, pushing on his shoulder. "How do you think you got here? Your mother and I know a lot about romance."
"And sex," Lola added.
"Mom..." Brock said, curling his nose in disgust.
"What?" She asked. "We have 11 children!"
"I know, it's just..." he put up his hand. "I'm about ready to eat dinner."
"Have you...uh..." Flint winked at him. "You know, done the deed?"
Brock looked at his father. "Oh, c'mon, I don't want to answer that..." He looked at his mother. "Mom..."
"Honey, you are 19 years old. Don't be embarassed. It's natural, it's healthy. We just want to know what's going on in your life," She said, smiling at him sweetly.
Brock readjusted in his seat uncomfortably. "Not with Misty, no. I had sex a couple of times when...when I was here, running things myself. Some girl, down the street. She's probably not here anymore, but it never went anywhere. At the rate I'm going, I'll never get laid again."
"Sure, you will," Flint said, laughing heartily. "You're a Harrison. The ladies love us Harrison men. Can't get enough of 'em. Go up to Cerulean City. Hot girls everywhere in that city. That's where your mother is from."
"Misty's from Cerulean," Brock said, looking at his parents. "She's the gym leader, or she was. Anyway, I think her sisters run it down since she's been traveling with us."
"Well, there you go," Flint said, mussing his hair as he passed him. "Already off to a good start. I'm going outside for a smoke. You want one, Son?"
"I don't smoke, but thanks," Brock said, and Flint shrugged, put a cigarette in his mouth and stepped out the door to the back porch.
Lola looked at him, just the sound of the kids fighting over the gifts drited through the house.
"Dad's change a lot," Brock said, looking out at the back door that led to the porch. "He never used to be so cheerful or talkative."
"The AA meetings are helping. Social engagement with the family is one of the things they heavily promote," Lola said, smiling as she cooked. "And he's really trying."
"He hasn't hurt you...?" Brock asked, helping his mother set the table.
"No, he hasn't hit me in years," Lola told him. "I think he's really back to the old Flint I used to know. The Flint I knew when you were just a little boy. You remind me so much of the way he used to be, Brock. But your daddy's demons won't get to you like they did to him. I know that. You are going to make some woman a very happy wife one day."
"Maybe Misty?" He asked, grinning and blushing like a school boy.
"Maybe," Lola replied, kissing him on the cheek. "Go get your brothers and sisters washed up and down here to eat. Dinner will be ready in 10."
...
Brock saw the decline his father was on. It was Saturday night. A particularly cold night, and Brock had stoked up a nice fire in the living room, and Fiona and Holly had fallen asleep about an hour ago, beside them on the couch.
Carefully, Misty lifted Fiona and Brock lifted Holly up, carried them upstairs, and placed them in their beds before returning downstairs to watch more television. Normally, they would have both agreed on a horror film, but lately, they had been steering more towards romantic comedies with sexual humor, because they had enough horror in their lives in the past couple of months.
But it hadn't really mattered what they were watching, because Brock soon found himself unable to control his hands, and he leaned over, kissing Misty's neck, pulling her closer to him underneath the blanket.
"Brock, what if Rose and Flint come home?" She asked, protesting as much as she could, but finding herself unable to resist him much longer.
"That's why we have the blanket," he laughed, and captured her lips in a senual kiss. "We can cover up if we need to. The kids are asleep..."
"It's risky," she said, looking at him in pale blue glow of the television. He was so handsome, and she knew she wanted nothing more than to make love to him.
"That's what makes it so sexy," he laughed and and dipped his hands beneath the denim of jeans, sliding them off and onto the floor. He groaned softly as he felt her own hand playing with the button of his jeans, and then softly rubbing his very hard erection.
He quickly pushed them off and into the floor. He pulled her blouse off over her head and tossed it into the darkness of the living room. She pulled the blanket up around him and looked up at him, as he cupped her breasts in his hands, loving the soft, firm feel of them in his palm.
"Are you sure we shouldn't go upstairs?" She asked, looking up into his dark eyes, full of lust and love.
He smiled at her, and his fingers found their way beneath the lace of her bra, teasing her nipple with his thumb, and she let out a moan, her mind immediately forgetting everything else. Her hand found his hard, pulsating erection, stroking him as he played with her breasts and made love to her in his kiss, touching her in a way that he could not with just his hands.
She felt him slide inside of her, her own arousal making it so easy that a growl of lust escaped the back of his throat. She was only vaguely aware of the television still being on, the volume up barely above audible.
"You feel so fucking good, Brock," she moaned out breathlessly as he moved in a rhythm against her, feeling himself reaching his own climax, way too soon. He steeled himself, pushing deep inside her and kissing her softly.
"I want to make you come for me," he said, powerfully thrusting inside of her and sliding his hand between them, rubbing her gently.
She arched her back towards him, and he smiled, watching her enjoy the pleasure he was giving her. Her beautiful red hair spilled around her shoulders, and clung to her skin from the sweat that had collected there. It was such an erotic sight that Brock almost lost control right there, hearing her panting and moaning beneath him, feeling her grip his own pulsating heat as she neared her climax.
Neither of them heard the front door open, and they were only vaguely aware of their parents' presence as they walked into the living room. Misty's eyes went wide as she saw Flint standing there, and then Brock jumped off of her when he saw Rose.
"Oh my God!" Misty grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around herself.
Rose just laughed. "Sorry, we didn't realize anyone would be down here...well, at least not down here doing that..." She smiled, and winked.
Brock's erection was instantly killed, and he covered up with the blanket, reaching around for his pants.
"Sorry, we thought you wouldn't be back for a while," Brock said, getting dressed from underneath the blanket.
Flint stumbled over to the chair and sat down, and Brock could instantly tell he was drunk. Misty found her panties, discarded on the couch and she slipped them on under the blanket, hiding herself from Flint's view. Why was he staring at her?
Had he seen her naked?
It was an akward feeling seeing your father-in-law when you are on the verge of orgasm, that's for sure.
Brock stood up once he was sure Misty had gotten dressed, and tried to gather as much dignity as she could while trying to put her bra on without the blanket falling down to reveal herself to Flint. He had just changed back into his jeans, not bothering with his shirt, and Rose certainly wasn't complaining about that.
He followed her into the kitchen. "Rose, did my dad drink tonight?"
"Only a couple of beers," Rose said, waving him off. "He had a couple shots of Kentucky Gentlemen, but that was at least a couple hours ago."
"Rose, you do know that he's a recovering alcoholic, don't you?" He asked, feeling very angry. "He can't drink. He's fallen right off the wagon again."
"He's only having a little fun," Rose said, making herself a glass of water. "It's been ten years. He can reward himself, can't he?"
"No, he can't," Brock said sternly. "He's an alcoholic. He can't have anything to drink. He gets very violent and pushy when he's drunk. He almost killed my mom when I was a kid because he was so stinkin' drunk, he didn't even know who any of us were."
Rose just looked at him, her eyes examining his body.
"We're going to bed anyway," she said, sliding a finger up and down his chest, and he moved away quickly.
"Stop it," Brock said, immediately regretting that he hadn't bothered with a shirt. He walked back into the living room to find Misty was seated on the far side of the couch away from Flint, and he was...leering at her. Staring at her, like she was a centerfold in a magazine or something.
Brock's anger hit a new high and Misty felt him grab her around the wrist.
"You dressed?" He asked, and Misty looked up at her husband, nodding her head. He gently yanked her up and gathered the blanket. "Come on, let's go to bed."
He glared at his father, and Flint just smiled, bringing a glass of water, or what he assumed was water, but could have been vodka up to his lips.
Brock closed the door to the bedroom and paced the room. Misty sat down on the bed, trying to overcome the embarassment she felt.
"I'm sorry, Sweetheart," he said, softly, sitting next to her on the bed. "I shouldn't have let my dick think for me. I should have at least brought you up here. My father is a god damn pervert!"
"No, Brock, it's OK," She said, but Brock shook his head, cutting her off.
"It's not OK," He said. "He looks at you like he used to look at my mom when he was drunk. Like she was some kind of sex toy. That's how he sees all women. That's how he sees your mom."
"That's how my mom sees herself..." Misty said, flatly.
"True," Brock agreed. "But you deserve respect, and I'm sorry I didn't think about that tonight. I was just horny."
She looked over at him, and he looked like he really wanted to beat himself up over it. She scooted closer to him and rest her head on his bare shoulder. He was so strong, warm, and always smelled so good. Then, she remembered the night Flint had made a pass at her, and she wasn't sure if it had even been a pass, maybe just a drunkened hug.
"Flint grabbed my ass a couple weeks ago," Misty said, hearing herself say the words was bizarre.
"What?" Brock asked, pulling back and looking at her. "I'm going to kill him."
"No, Brock, please," she grabbed his arm, knowing that she wasn't near strong enough to hold him back. "He...He was drunk." She stammered.
"I don't care, I'm still going to kill him. He's not going to sexually harass you and get away with it!" He ripped himself from her embrace and marched out into the hallway. He quickly made his way down the stairs, but about halfway down he heard Rose call out.
"Oh, Flint! Yes! Yes! Yes!" Her lustful cries filled the entire house, it seemed like, and he could see his father had her bent over the very same couch he had just had his own wife on. Fuck! This was his house! That was his couch! If he couldn't have sex on it, then nobody else could either!
His anger only deepened, and as much as it disgusted him to see his father humping his mother-in-law like some horny animal, he made his way over, and before Flint could even realize what was happening through his drunken and sex-hazed mind, Brock landed a punch to the side of his face, sending him flying into a table.
Wedding pictures, baby pictures of Fiona, and the lamp went tumbling to the floor noisily. Rose shreiked loudly, and Brock stood over Flint, who was naked, drunk and trying to get up.
"Get up, you old drunk fucker!" Brock screamed, and by this time, Misty was on the staircase, watching, tears forming in her eyes. She shouldn't have said anything...she should have just let it go, but the way he was leering at her had made her uncomfortable. She was pretty sure he had seen her naked, if even for a second.
"What the hell, Brock?" Flint asked, getting up and wiping blood from his mouth. "You about knock my damn tooth out."
Brock grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. "You think you can cheat on mom like you did, then come into my house and ask me to let you live here while you get your shit together, and then you come home drunk and fondle my wife?" He pushed him against the wall.
"I didn't fondle no one," Flint said, pushing back on him, but he had seen this his age was getting to him and his son was now a lot stronger than he was, and he could see the fury in his son's eyes. He remembered when Brock had beat him up when he was teenager for hitting his mother, and fear suddenly gripped Flint. What would he do to him for touching his wife?
"She said you did," Brock said, refusing to let him go. "You better not be calling her a liar. She's my wife. She's the mother of my children! She's pregnant, for fuck's sake! You don't treat women like fucking objects! Not in my house you don't!"
"Can I please put some pants on?" Flint asked, and Rose handed him his jeans. Brock released him, and then he heard Misty crying on the stairs. His anger subsided at that moment and looked over at her.
"Honey, go back to bed," he told her, but she stood to her feet instead, shaking her head. She ran towards him and wrapped her arms around him.
"Please don't do anything stupid, Brock," she begged him. "I don't want you to go to jail or anything."
Rose looked at Flint as he buckled his jeans. "Did you really fondle my daughter?"
"Rose, I was probably drunk," Flint said, shaking his head. "I do things I don't mean to do sometimes when I'm drunk."
"Which is exactly why you shouldn't drink!" Brock raised his voice, but his arms stayed around Misty as he tried to comfort her and calm her down, reassuring her he wasn't going to do anything else to his father. "Get out, Dad. I want you out and I want you out tonight."
Flint threw up his hands. "Fine. I'll get bags and I'll go stay at the motel."
"You got 10 minutes," Brock growled at him as he watched his father ascend the staircase, and then his eyes fell on Rose.
"Is it true, Honey?" Rose asked. "Did he really touch you?"
"He hugged me one night, he was a little drunk, and he touched my butt. It was really awkward and I didn't tell Brock about it, because I knew this would happen," she dried her tears. "I just didn't want any trouble."
"It's no trouble," Brock told her, pulling her back to look her in the eyes. "You can tell me anything. Absolutely anything. Don't be afraid of that, OK?"
She nodded her head and kissed him. Flint came down with his bags and Rose's eyes locked with his.
"I'll call you, Rose," He said, and she nodded. The front door slammed, and Misty went over to pick up the pictures. Nothing was broken, amazingly.
"I'll get that, Misty," Brock said, leaning down and picking up the pictures. One was of their wedding, and another was of Fiona when she was about three months old. Brock put everything back on the table and apologized to Misty again before they headed off to bed, and said goodnight to Rose.
She followed up after them, going into the guest bedroom which she had shared with Flint for the past month or so, and now it was empty. Half of the drawers were empty, the side of the bed where he lay was still rumpled from the night before, but was empty.
The closet, where half of his clothes and shoes were hung and lined up, was now empty. Except...it wasn't empty. Rose walked over to the closet, slowly turned the golden knob, and peeked in.
"Are you awake?" She whispered. "I really need to talk to you."