Guest: Why...? Well, I don't know. I guess the fandoms I'm in intrigue me more than my own ideas so far...? Aha.
This is a bad, bad chapter.
WARNINGWARNINGWARNING: For more child abuse (go figure), sexual themes, and a little bit of sexual harassment - I think that's a good term; yeah.
Please Read: If you get uncomfortable...please just stop reading the chapter. I'm sorry.
The bad news is that this is a terrible chapter. The good news is that this is the worst chapter forevermore, so it can only get better, right?
...I am so sorry.
There came a point where he stopped shivering. It was at this point there was a click sound somewhere far off. He was vaguely aware of the door opening, of a burning hand touching his shoulder. He wanted to jerk away, but all he ended up doing was shifting slightly. There was a sigh of relief, and the burning hand was moving him. Moving his shoulder. Back and forth. Shaking him; that's what it was doing. He could feel himself moving, but he couldn't feel it. He felt the heat of the hand, and he could feel an odd shifting feeling, but he couldn't feel it. It was like his skin sensors had shut down. "Hey; hey, are you alright?" he heard. "Can you get up?"
It was Auntie's voice. Auntie he could trust, he knew, somewhere in the back of his head. He remembered trying to get up, but nothing happening. Opening his mouth to say 'no,' but finding he couldn't really speak either. He tried forcing his head to move back and forth, but then decided it was too much trouble and did nothing.
"Damn it, Jack," he heard her utter, and she pulled his arms from their protected place between his chest and legs before her arm weaved in front of his arms but behind his back. Her other arm went behind his knees, and she lifted him and took him back inside. He felt the warm air wash over him, almost scalding. He watched with vague interest as the ceiling passed by. He remembered being taken to a new room; one he hadn't been in before. He was laid on a bed, and Auntie told him that she would be right back. The air was so warm. So warm. So warm….
She came back with his bag from the living room, and she closed the door behind him. "I'm going to change your clothes, okay, honey? Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you. I'm just going to help, okay?"
L didn't respond.
"Alright…." She lifted his torso and head to strip him of his shirt, then replaced it with a warm, dry one. Removed his pants and underwear, then replaced them as well.
He tried to speak to her, but it came out as more of a moan.
"What was that, honey?" Auntie asked, turning to him.
"Too… warm…."
Auntie smiled at him. "It'll get better; I promise," she assured him, and left the room, closing the door behind her.
Eventually the feeling started creeping back, but once it did, it hurt. The heat of the house got him out of the numb sort of cold to that horrible, painful cold where you couldn't stop shaking. And since he'd been cold to his very core, it hurt bad, and it hurt everywhere, but he didn't make a single noise, and he didn't cry this time. Just bit his lip hard and waited for it to pass. And eventually it did. The shaking subsided and the pain faded, and then he was just sore. He was sitting up by that point, and he stared at the door, wondering whether he was supposed to go out. Unsure, though, he sat there on the bed and waited.
A minute later, Auntie came back in with a weary smile. "Come on out," she said to him. "Uncle Jack's not gonna hurt you right now, and it's time for dinner. I'm sure you're starved."
L thought about it, and nodded. He slowly got to his feet and followed Auntie to the kitchen. He didn't necessarily like what there was, as he had more of a sweet tooth than anything else, but he supposed it would feed him and that was all he needed. Uncle didn't eat dinner with the two of them, which was just as well. L didn't really want Uncle to eat with them anyway. Auntie talked with him as they ate, and L didn't respond much. L was sitting with his legs to his chest even as he poked at his food.
"I'm sorry about your uncle," she said, and L didn't look up from his meal. "He went through a lot as a kid, and…." She sighed. "I guess he's just turning into the very guy he hated," she said with a sad sort of thoughtfulness.
L thought on this, still poking at his unloved vegetables. So what if he was treated the same? That should make you want to be all the better to a child, not just the same. Not if you hated it. No, L thought that if ever he were to have a child when he grew up, he would treat them with love and respect and…. He would be like his father. Not like his uncle. He decided not to try and understand Uncle's messed-up logic for the moment.
"He just doesn't want to lose me, I think. He never liked my sister, you know…. Your mom…. And that might be part of why he does this to you…." She sighed again.
You sound like you're defending him, L thought, frowning slightly. And it irritated him. Sure, fine, Uncle was human. He knew that. But he was raised to know fairness and justice. Uncle was neither fair nor just, and L hoped that someday he would be put to justice. He thought that perhaps that was what he would do…. Perhaps he'd do something relating to justice. He thought of all of the murder mystery books Auntie had let him read. Maybe he'd be a detective. Yeah; that sounded fun. And he had no intention of doing something he didn't want to do when he grew up. Just like Mommy.
The thought made L smile ever so slightly.
His first night sleeping over Uncle's house was practically sleepless. He lay in the bed where he'd come out of his practical hypothermic stupor just earlier that day, staring at the ceiling and finding that sleep couldn't come. He felt too exposed. He tried lying on his side and curling up into a ball, but then it was like his back was open, and then he just felt like his blind side was exposed, which was even worse. He found it best to just lie on his back and stare at the ceiling, the blanket pulled up to his chin.
There came a point when he heard their voices. Auntie sounded tired; irritated maybe. Uncle didn't say much. "What is it, Jack?" he heard Auntie sigh. He didn't hear Uncle's response, if he responded at all, but he heard Auntie speak again, her voice muffled through the wall. The doors? The doors. She was across the hall. Perhaps their door was open. "No, Jack, not now," she said.
L kept staring at the ceiling, but now he would glance every so often at the door. Would Uncle get angry with Auntie? What would he do? If he started hurting her (which he had witnessed a few times before), would L just lie here, pretending to sleep, or would he try to help?
"I told you, not now, Jack." Her voice was a little bit more audible that time. More firm. L felt a certain amount of satisfaction that she was trying to stand up to Uncle. Not that she would win, but it was good to know she was trying. "Jack, no. I don't want—Jack, stop…." L strained to hear her voice again, but all he got was one more "Stop," before things seemed silent again. The last word sounded weaker, and L could feel the dread curl over his chest and a horrible bitter taste filling his mouth. Sure, Uncle could go ahead and hurt him, and he would hate it, but if he were to hurt someone else…. No, he didn't like that one bit.
He rolled out of bed and got to his feet, then froze like that. Hesitantly made his way to the door, and opened it ever so slowly before peering into the hallway. He could hear something now, an almost rhythmic sound. It was rather surreal, but all he wanted was to make sure Auntie was alright. He could see that their bedroom door was open a crack.
He treaded softly so as not to make a noise, still being incredibly hesitant. But, convinced Auntie was being hurt, he peeked into the room nervously, extremely cautious as he did so. He would decide from there whether he could help. If he knew for a fact that he couldn't, he would head silently back to his room and try to sleep. Probably end up just staring at the ceiling again. But if he thought he could help, he would try….
To be honest, when he looked in there, he didn't know exactly what he expected to see. Once he saw what was in there, he was simply perplexed. He had no idea what was going on, and that was frustrating. He didn't like it, though. It didn't seem right, and it made him uncomfortable. And of course, even though the great L was a genius, he wouldn't know about sexual intercourse at four years old. It was simply something that he hadn't been taught about yet. So no, he didn't know what was going on in there, but he could see how Auntie was at first fighting back, but then slowly breaking…. And that disturbed him most.
He could swear Uncle saw him. In that split second where L thought he saw Uncle's eyes flick to the door, he retreated immediately and went as fast as he could without being loud. He scrambled back into bed and stared at the ceiling again, with nothing good made of his trip. He was left even more terrified – something about Uncle in that image had somehow scared him real bad – with his heart thudding in his chest as he wondered whether Uncle had seen him and what the man would do about it if he had. He was also left plain out disturbed. L couldn't put his finger on why, but that had just been… well… it had been disturbing.
He didn't sleep much, though he thought maybe he drifted off a few times. It turned out that Uncle had seen him the night before, and he was thus punished. ("What kind of sick child are you; watching your own family have sex?") He took the vocal accusations quietly, even though he didn't get a lot of it. ("You're a damned voyeur, that's what you are! A fucking pervert!") At first he looked to Auntie for help when the beating began, but she only sat in the kitchen, unmoving. She looked ashamed. And once he knew she wouldn't help, he just accepted it and let it happen, only waiting. Enduring. As per usual. And without Daddy to go home to, it was a day of survival.
That night was sleepless again. When he did sleep, it was fitful, and he would have nightmares. Most of them were about Uncle… but there was one about Mommy and Daddy too…. In any case, it was unpleasant, and L wanted nothing more than to go back home.
The next day, Uncle was convinced again that L was trying to steal Auntie, and accused him of that before attacking him in the living room with his bare hands. It usually was his bare hands, though, so there was nothing new there. The pain wasn't unusual either. However, that day was different in the fact that Auntie stepped in and tried to stop him.
She yelled at him to stop, and so Uncle hurt him more. L didn't do anything. She grabbed his arm and yelled at him, and he yelled back and jerked away and shoved L to the wall, consequently slamming the poor boy's head. He watched the room spin. Felt himself sliding to the ground, only watching brokenly as Uncle and Auntie fought. He wondered idly if maybe it would never end. Wondered if this was a hell he couldn't emerge from. He'd lived through this hell only almost a year, and yet here he was wondering when it would end, because surely it had to end, right? And he had Daddy, still. And once he got home, he supposed he could stand it again. He could stand it until the hell was over. Until he reached the good parts…. Yeah. He'd do that much.
Auntie slept in the living room that night, away from Uncle. L supposed that was a good thing, although now he was stuck near the end of the hall with the man, and he didn't really like the prospect. But the night would pass, and day four would begin. Thankfully, his last night at Uncle's…. For that week, at least.
That Thursday was actually probably one of the oddest and most unnerving days at Uncle's that L would ever have. It began to waking up to find Uncle sitting in the chair in the corner of his room. It scared the hell out of L, that was for sure. But he didn't move when he jerked awake, and L stared at him in horror for a few more seconds before getting out a, "Hi, Uncle…. G…good morning."
"Good morning," Uncle responded, strangely amiable for his usual character. "How did you sleep?"
L stared at him. He vaguely wondered if this was a dream or something, but still did not relax. "I slept okay. What about you, Uncle?"
"Don't lie to me," Uncle said to him in a low voice.
"…I… didn't sleep that great…." He swallowed, still gazing cautiously at his uncle. Wondering what he was thinking; wondering when he would strike.
"Well, why didn't you say so? Do you have problems sleeping often?"
L could only nod in response. It felt so odd having a somewhat normal conversation with this man, in all honesty. Very surreal.
"Ever since Molly… ah… your mother died, huh?"
L slowly curled his knees up to his chest subconsciously. "Um… yeah…. I guess so…."
"It really is too bad she left us," he said, and L immediately sensed what was wrong here.
Uncle hated Mommy, so all of this was an act. A lie. 'Think with logic, and things become clearer, you know,' Auntie had said to him. And you know, she was right. But what reason had he to put on this act? To get closer to him? But he keeps hurting me, L thought, careful to keep his expression blank. And he hates me. Why would he want to get closer to me? He thought of the image from two nights ago, and the way Auntie had broken down and accepted Uncle eventually. Thought of how ashamed she'd looked afterward. Thought of how she always asked L not to tell. And he realized… that she was dependent upon him. That's why everything was so hard for her to get out of, why she'd broken, why she was ashamed, why she didn't want him to tell. It was all because she depended upon him, wasn't it? Was that what Uncle was trying to do to him? Make him depend on him? No, I'll depend on myself, L thought, gazing at Uncle with a carefully blank expression. I'll even rely on Daddy, but never Uncle….
"I'm sure it must have been awful, losing your mother at only three years old," he said. "Not to mention it was because she gave up on you. Decided she could just die, and left you stuck here. Rather selfish, I think."
He's turning me against Mommy, like bad people do in the books, L realized. Even though he's right….
Uncle sighed. "And your father seems to have left you alone as well, now, hasn't he?"
L stared at him, and shrugged slightly when Uncle paused to wait for an answer. "He needs to work," L said.
"Well, maybe, but shouldn't he be spending more time with his son rather than working? Especially after the loss of your mother. Come on, haven't you thought at least once that your father has practically left you alone?"
"No," L lied.
Uncle shook his head. "So optimistic. I'd just like to let you know that I'm always here to help make you feel better."
"Thank you," L said, though he didn't mean it. And Uncle seemed to smile at him, but the smile-like expression was off; somehow it wasn't a smile. He eventually left the room, and L sat curled there for awhile longer before getting up for breakfast. Uncle ended up eating with him, which was incredibly uncomfortable for L. Not that he could do anything about it.
Auntie came out eventually, saw Uncle, and left after shooting a look at L. He understood it. 'Be careful.' Honestly, L just found it creepy; the way Uncle was acting. It was unnerving, and it just made him anxious, afraid he would suddenly snap and attack him again…. That's really all he ever knew from Uncle, so it only made sense…. I mean, just last night, hadn't he been beating him and fighting with Auntie and slamming him against the wall until he nearly passed out? This was the man who whipped him with a belt because he was paranoid. The man who stuck him outside in the freezing chill of winter and sprayed him down with a hose. The man who started kicking him because he had spilt his milk. It just wasn't right for him to act so nice to him now….
But L gradually allowed himself to grow accustomed to this, and decided to enjoy the friendliness while it lasted. He wasn't hurt at all that day, in fact, and it was rather nice. Unnerving, but nice. And though L was beginning to get paranoid about it all, he let the day pass smoothly, albeit in a way that just wasn't right. It was an odd day indeed…. Uncle even asked him for a hug goodnight. Though, at that one, L just couldn't do it. Then the man helped and pulled him into his embrace. L stiffened, but forced his arms to hug back for fear Uncle would be angry with him if he were to pull away or not hug back. And Uncle was being loving about it, like family should do, but…. He was rubbing his back like Mommy used to, and rocking slowly back and forth like Daddy did, and it disgusted him. He felt an unpleasant tremor down his spine, and he got angry in thinking how Uncle had no right to steal those memories of his parents.
"You know," Uncle said to him, still rocking slightly, "Auntie stole my room, and she's not letting me in…."
Too bad for you, L thought, his chest tight. He found himself barely breathing.
"The couch is terribly lumpy and uncomfortable, and your uncle has a sore back. Could you let me sleep in the guest room with you tonight?"
No! he wanted to yell. No, I don't want you in there too! "Sure…," he said aloud, knowing full well that Uncle might be angry if he denied him. He just wouldn't sleep tonight, that's all. Not that he'd been sleeping very well here anyway.
That night L found himself curled up at the very end of the bed, wanting to be nowhere near that uncle of his. And at first he thought Uncle would sneak-attack him in his sleep, that all of this was to get his guard down and then abruptly get back at him for making Auntie mad at him…. But time passed, and nothing happened. L slowly began to drift into sleep anyway….
He was jerked awake soon after when a hand yanked his shoulder back and pinned it to the bed. L looked around, horrified and confused as to what was going on. I shouldn't have fallen asleep, was his first thought, and then he saw Uncle there above him with his hands on L's shoulders. There was an awful smirk-smile on Uncle's features as he forcibly lifted L's torso and ripped away his shirt.
"I'll make you feel allll better…," Uncle said in a low, quiet voice, and L tried to yell out in a panic, but suddenly Uncle's hand was clamped over his mouth. "Shhh… I'll make you feel allll better…," he murmured to him as his own shirt came off, and L shook his head frantically, remembering the image of Uncle and Auntie that night and being utterly horrified by it. "Come on, little genius," he said to him, and L felt sick. It sounded loving, but it was demented and horrible and he just wanted to get out. "You're the little voyeur, peeking into Uncle's room at the wrong time, you damned son of the devil." He leaned in closer, and L could smell the sourness on his breath again. "Uncle knows he's hurt you… he wants to fix everything…."
L was tearing up now, still trying to shake his head. Shake his head no.
"You want Auntie, don't you?! You wanted her, but you can't have her, you twisted, sick child!" He was gripping his shoulders again, pinning him to the bed. "You want her; but here! Here! You like it? You want it?! You want it?!"
L, finding his mouth was released now, responded immediately. "No!" he cried, squirming beneath his grasp. "No! I don't want it!" he shrieked. "I don't want it!" And he broke free and writhed away, twisting out of the bed and flipping onto the ground, hitting his head and curling his spine farther than he thought it could go. Then he scrambled away, twisting the door knob and yanking the door open before running to Auntie's room and banging on the door. He was scared out of his mind, and eventually realized he was crying. Auntie opened the door after a moment that seemed like forever and let him in. He sat curled in the corner for the rest of the night. At first he was still breathing hard and shaking with the tears on his face, but eventually he was just silently sitting there, staring at the door and waiting for the night to end.
He didn't come out of Auntie's room the next day, despite her coaxing. She brought his breakfast in, brought in a shirt, and at one point he was told his father was there. He stood, and Auntie handed him his things as he headed to the door. He saw his father there, and gazed at him for a bit before going to hug him tight. He didn't want to let go, and he even began to cry.
"What's wrong?" Daddy asked him, hugging back. "I'm sorry I was gone, but…."
"Maybe the child has separation issues," said Uncle from behind L, and L held on tighter to his father. "Pretty pathetic to be honest."
"Well, you have to remember he's only four, Jack," Daddy said coolly, and brought L home. L was grateful and so, so relieved to be out of that place for a few days. He didn't leave his father's side the whole weekend.
Why do I write these things... I am so sorry...
If it's any consolation, that right there was the worst of it.
Maybe-not-so-fun Fact: And thus, from that day onward, none of us could think of the phrase 'make it all better' the same way again...
Review?... For...for this flashback to end soon?