Callie doesn't know how long she's been in the closet, but the tight, pulsing sensation coming from inside her head makes her think it's been a longer stay rather than a shorter one. Of course, she had been locked in closets before – as a child, it had been some of her previous foster parent's favourite punishments – and at the time, she had hated it. She hated the darkness and the loneliness, but unlike most children who were scared of the dark, Callie had never been afraid of ghouls and ghosts; no, she knew the real type of monsters were the people from this world, who unfortunately made up a great proportion of all the adults she had encountered in her life.
But this time, as her tears fall silently, she isn't afraid of the dark. This time, she's afraid of the quiet – she hasn't heard a peep from Jude or Lance aside from a muffled conversation he had when answering the door, and the lack of movement worries her immensely. She needs to know that Jude is okay. She doesn't even want to think about what Lance could have done to him in the time she's been locked down here, and prays that the silence is a good thing.
Time passes slowly. The dizziness rattling around her head from the beating and the pain settling in her aching bones soon turns into anxious nausea. She doesn't feel good at all and she wishes she could curl up and give into sleep, but without too much reluctance, she forces the thought aside. No matter how tempting it sounds, she has to be ready – he could come for her at any time and being caught off guard by his presence would never end well.
Just as Callie's head droops to the side with lethargy for what must be the tenth time, she hears a small shuffling noise come from above her, which she immediately recognises to be the sound of feet on the stairs. At first, her body tenses with fright. Despite her ability to keep herself awake, she doesn't think she'll be able to endure her foster father's temper again tonight. But the fear soon passes when her lumpy brain realises that the footsteps do not sound heavy and careless like Lances, but quiet and delicate like her baby brother's.
She makes an attempt to sit up slightly, groaning when her tailbone seems to protest against the movement, but nonetheless continuing with the action to try and avoid scaring Jude with her hunched over stature. He can't see her like this – it'll only upset him, and he's already seen quite enough to give him a sleepless night tonight.
Within seconds of the noise above quieting, she hears the floorboards creak and, eventually, the door to the cupboard opens. Callie squints her eyes, the light from the hallway a stark contrast from the blackness of the tiny cupboard, but she can't help but let out a small breath of relief when she see's Jude's face in front of her.
She moves into a squatting position and brings her trembling hand up to his pale skin, whispering, "Baby, are you okay?"
Jude nods slightly before pressing a finger up to his lips, motioning for her to be quiet. "He's passed out on the chair in the living room."
Sighing at his words, Callie begins to stand, but ultimately tumbles as the pain in her stomach screams with her movement. Jude's eyes widen in horror, but neither sibling dares make a sound in fear of waking up the monster in the east of the house.
Callie knows it's a long shot that he'll wake up – when he's got a drink in him, she swears the man could sleep for a year – but that doesn't stop her taking every precaution to avoid it happening.
With a little assistance from Jude, the pair make their way out of the cupboard and engage their descent upstairs. She knows they've made it; they're safe – for now, anyway. Their injuries aren't as awful as they could have been considering a gun was involved, and at least she can relax knowing Lance is passed out for the night.
When they reach the top of the stairs the siblings hover at the landing, and Callie knows from experience what's about to come.
"Can I sleep with you tonight, Callie?" Jude asks, almost timidly in a small voice.
Despite her attempts to try and break the bed-sharing habits in previous, less abusive homes, being placed in Lance's care had brought the siblings closer than ever, and sharing a bed had become a somewhat regular occurrence. In fact, the idea of having Jude so close to her brings her great comfort – just knowing he's safe in her arms allows her to sleep. She dreads the day that he'll grow up and realise that he doesn't need her to protect him anymore, because deep down, she needs him as much as he needs her.
She sends her brother a reassuring smile and squeezes his shoulder. "Sure, bud. You go down the hall and get your PJs on. I'm just going to use the bathroom."
After promising Jude that she'd be okay, Callie hobbles herself over to the bathroom. She lets out a deflated breath as she looks at herself in the mirror. Pressing hard at her eyes to stop the tears from falling, she runs the tap and flicks cold water onto her battered face, hoping the cool liquid will sooth the darkening bruises beginning to form on her cheeks. Her lip isn't much better, and the cut stings slightly as she tries to rinse away the dried blood. She's sure she has some concealer in her duffle bag somewhere, but while that might just cover the bruises, she's not sure she'll be able to hide all the evidence of her foster father's beating.
Being mindful of her busted lip, Callie quickly brushes her teeth and drags a comb through her hair before heading back through to the bedroom. She notices the duvet has been pulled back and her pyjamas are lying out on her pillow and can't help but smile at her baby brother who sits patiently waiting for her to return.
Jude turns his back as she changes, but he turns to stare in horror at the marks on her back from Lance's metal-capped boots. She watches him out of the corner of her eye, but ignores him, not wanting to make a big deal of her injuries.
"Did he hit you again?" she asks, placing today's clothes in the hamper by the door. "When you came up here?"
The younger boy shakes his head, looking down at his knees. Callie frowns, not believing her brother, and hoping he wasn't following her example of hiding her injuries.
When Jude sees that Callie isn't satisfied with his response, he sighs. "The gun…"
Callie pales, and begins to feel lightheaded. It's not like she hadn't known what Lance's intentions were when he had taken out his gun and gone upstairs, but it chilled her to actually hear it being said out loud.
"I hid in my bedroom and pushed the nightstand against the door, just like we did in Jim's house when he had the tennis racket," Jude explains, mistaking Callie's lack of response for lack of understanding. "He, um, he fired at the door handle, I guess."
The number of what if's swirling through Callie's head are enough to make her almost pass out. If that bullet had been shot just a little bit higher, it could have gone right through the door and straight into Jude. While she had been downstairs lying on the floor, her baby brother was almost shot.
"Callie? Are you okay?"
She blinks, looking towards Jude and taking in the red mark beginning to form on his right cheek. How can he be so…calm? He was almost shot, for god's sake!
But right in that moment, after processing Jude's story, the way he'd taken himself to safety, she doesn't feel proud that her brother had managed to mimic her safety tactics – she feels terribly guilty. So guilty that she had left him alone to fight of a man who is three times his size. Guilty that she wasn't there to protect him.
Guilty that he still had the memory from so early in his childhood where one of their first foster parents came after them with a tennis racket, where she promised his tiny, eight year old face, that nothing like this would ever happen again.
It had happened again, though, and this time, both of them could have been killed.
She swallows the lump in her throat that threatens to release a sob and gives Jude a small smile. "Yeah. I'm good, buddy. Let's get to bed, okay?"
The two lay in bed, Jude curled up in Callie's arms as she rests her face in his sweet smelling hair. Though both are silent, neither of the siblings is quite able to fall asleep after the night's terrifying ordeal that's all too familiar.
"I'm sorry, Callie."
She stiffens slightly at his words, before pulling him around to face her slightly. "You don't have to be sorry, Baby."
"Yes I do. I hate that you got hurt because of me," Jude says, his voice teary.
"Hey," she whispers, wiping a tear from his cheek. "You didn't do anything wrong, okay? That bastard is the one who should be sorry."
Jude's mouth curves into a small smile at her cussing, and she knows it was the right thing to say. She pulls him close to her and places a soft kiss on his forehead, but just as she thinks that Jude's done for the night, he speaks again.
"Did it hurt?"
Callie's heartbeat quickens as a lie tumbles from her mouth. "What? My lip? Nah, it's just a little scrape. Nothing for you to worry about."
"No, your back," Jude says pointedly, pulling away from Callie and looking her in the eye.
She gulps, feeling uncomfortable under his stare and guilty for lying to him. She shakes her head slightly, "Jude…"
"I saw it, you know. It's purple, Callie; it looks really bad."
"I guess it does hurt a bit," she says before she can stop herself. "But I'm sure it'll be fine by the morning, okay?"
He studies her, and although Callie knows he doesn't believe her lie, she's grateful when he doesn't push her to answer further. Instead, she diverts the topic to him. "Are you okay? You know, I'm proud of you for doing that…for pushing the nightstand against the door."
She feels Jude smile against her, and he begins to retell exactly how he carried out his actions with enthusiasm, although Callie can't quite help but feel how wrong this whole situation is – how Jude is describing the moments up to his near death with such…excitement.
One thing, though, catches Callie off guard. "Wait, what?"
"While he was…kicking you…after you told me to go upstairs, I went to the phone. I know you told me not to, but Callie…it was really bad. He was kicking you so hard and there was blood coming out your mouth. I got scared and I called the police."
"Jude…" Callie begins, ready to lecture him on the danger of calling the police. Callie had been led to distrust police officers too many times. At first, it baffled her how the people who were supposed to keep people safe always managed to fail her and Jude, but, after many years of unjust situations throughout her time in the foster system, Callie had learned that not even a police officer would give her the benefit over the doubt as soon as they found out she was just a trashy foster kid.
"I know, Callie," Jude says harshly, startling her a little. "But if I hadn't called, then Lance…he wouldn't have stopped when he did."
She furrows her brow; trying to track her fuzzy mind back to the moments she spent practically passed out on the kitchen floor. "What do you mean?"
"The police at the door. That's what distracted him and stopped him getting into my room."
Callie is stunned, the pieces finally coming together. Of course, it hadn't been one of her foster father's drinking buddies – that explains why he's lying passed out on the chair by the TV and isn't out on a bender.
"Oh my god," she whispers, almost inaudible.
"See!" Jude snaps, irritated at his sister for chastening him.
But Callie doesn't blame him for his harshness – in fact, it was Jude who had saved them tonight. If he hadn't called the police, at least one of them would be dead right now.
Pulling Jude close to her again, she closes her eyes and tells him they should get some sleep because they have school tomorrow and have to get up early.
"I love you, Callie," Jude whispers, seeming to have shaken out of his little funk from moments earlier.
She kisses his head again lightly, breathing in his warmth and relishing his innocence. "I love you too, Baby."
While Jude sleeps, Callie's brain is alert. She won't be able to sleep tonight, despite the fact that she knows Lance is too drunk to wake up, never mind climb the stairs to their room, but another thought also niggles at the back of her mind.
Tonight, a police officer very much saved her and Jude's lives, and for once, she doesn't have trouble accepting it. In essence, it feels like her whole world has been revaluated – just like when her mom died. She doesn't know if she'll ever be able to fully trust the police force, but she sure as hell knows that officer is someone she'll be eternally grateful to.
Thanks for reading, and again, thanks for all your reviews and interest in the story! Things are a little slow for now, but they'll pick up soon.
Please review and let me know what you think - K :)