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John just stared at me in utter shock
and disbelief. “No, no. Your mother died of cancer.”
I shook my head. “That’s what everyone, including myself, was told. But
it’s not the truth.”
John leaned forward, trying to catch my eyes. “How do you know this?”
I shut my eyes tight, trying to block out the horrible sights coming to
my mind. “I watched it happen.”
“You watched it happen?” John’s eyes were wholly stunned. It seemed he
didn’t quite know what to say either.
I nodded. “I tried to stop him… I tried… But it was too late.”
“Are you… in any mood to explain to me exactly what happened?”
I nodded again. The truth was finally coming out. I couldn’t run away
from it again. I hardly knew where to begin; everything just spilled out
of me like an open wound would spill rich blood. “It had been two years
since my father left us, and we were doing perfectly fine, you know? I
don’t know why he had to come back and ruin everything like he always
did…” I tried to gather myself. “It was my mother’s day off, and I had
stayed home from school that day but she didn’t know yet. I was in my
bed; it was early in the morning. I heard…screams coming from my
mother’s bedroom. I rushed out of my room and peered around the corner
of her doorway, but by then the screams had stopped. I saw my father,
hovering over her limp body, smothering…” I swallowed hard, “…smothering
her head with a pillow.”
John reached over and placed a warm hand of comfort on my knee.
“I rushed into the room… started yelling and screaming and kicking him
but of course it was no good. He threw me against the closet door and
made it clear that he thought I was supposed to be at school. He made me
swear not to tell anyone what happened, but of course I had to. And I
tried, about a thousand times to tell someone what happened that day. I
searched far and wide for someone who would actually be willing to
listen to me. But of course, who listens to a child? Especially over the
word of my father, who supposedly knew her more than anyone else and
swears she died in her sleep, losing her battle to her cancer.”
“Shuro…” John began.
My voice began to tremble as my heart pounded heavily in my chest and I
finally gave in to the lump in my throat preventing me from sobbing.
“But she was recovering… She was gonna get better.” Tears flew down my
cheeks and I held a hand up to cover my face. John immediately engulfed
me in his arms and held me. He rubbed my back to stop me from shaking
but still the sobbing came.
A few minutes passed and I continued, knowing I had to finish the story.
“He would always torment me with words like ‘no one will ever believe
you, you're just a kid.’ And deep down I knew that I would be stuck
alone with the horrible truth for the rest of my life.”
“Do you know… why he killed her?” John asked gently.
I nodded, wiping my wet cheeks. “She was planning on taking him to court
to get her share of the funds in their bank account. He had left us with
nothing while he went off and bought his giant manor.”
“Is that why you were nervous about convicting your father?” John asked.
I nodded, ashamed yet somehow relieved that John now knew the truth. “He
was a selfish prick and wanted everything for himself. Guess he never
figured he would have to take me into custody.”
A few more minutes of silence passed before John cleared his throat and
patted my knee as he stood, retrieved a tissue and passed it to me. He
extended a hand and helped me to my feet.
“You know what,” John started. “Let’s make something of this night. What
do you want to do? You want to go out somewhere? Anywhere, you name it.”
I was stunned at his sudden outburst of positivity, but I loved it. The
change of subject was relieving. It was hard to think of something to do
so quickly and on the spot, so I just sort of shrugged and tossed the
tissue in the trash once my eyes were dry.
John gazed down at me. “You want to go see a movie or something?”
I looked up at him, still a little stunned. “Uhh… okay,” I said, though
it sounded more like I was asking a question.
John gently placed his hands on both my shoulders, peering straight into
my eyes. “I don’t want you to worry about anything, okay? Everything is
going to be taken care of.”
“What do you mean by that? What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to look into the case of her death. See what everyone’s been
hiding. By suffocating her, your father had an easy way out; no blood,
no fingerprints, no real clues to how she died. I don’t think the police
department even tried looking into it, as it seemed too simple. But I
don’t want you to worry. I’m going to try to do everything I can
tomorrow.”
“But you’re working—”
“I don’t care. This is the most important case right now.”
I was astonished by his commitment and driven force. He somehow always
managed to make me smile even when I was in my lowest moods.
“So… movie?” He offered.
I nodded. That was exactly what I wanted to do. If we did go, I would be
able to clear my head of every wretched memory that somehow snaked it’s
way into my thoughts tonight. I would be able to push them back and bury
them deep in my self-conscious where they were meant to stay.
Once at the theatre we had trouble deciding on which feature to actually
watch. John wanted to buy tickets to Law-Abiding Citizen, go figure,
while I wanted to see Surrogates, a sci-fi about people controlling a
world full of robots. We ended up choosing my pick. Surprisingly, it
actually did help me take my mind off current affairs.
• • •
The next morning was hectic. I had no idea John woke up so early. He
came into my room at around 6:00AM and literately had to drag me out of
the warm soft bed I was so cozily dreaming in.
“Time for school, bud.” He was surprisingly animated in the morning. He
drew the blinds open then stared at my lazy body slumped over the
pillows.
“Bud?” My voice was hoarse, and my eyes were trying to block the sun
from it’s stinging light. “Why so early?” I shoved my face into the
pillow, embracing the darkness.
“Come on,” John picked up a pillow and tossed it at me as he walked out
of the room. “Aren’t you excited?” I could tell there was a hint of
sarcasm in his voice; he knew how I felt about school.
“Coffee?” Was the first thing he said when I entered the kitchen. I
could smell it brewing from all the way upstairs.
I sat down on the stool as I mustered out a “no thanks.”
He poured some for himself in a metal thermos. “No?”
“See, unlike some people I can function without the use of caffeine.” I
raised my brows and nodded my head as if I was telling John the most
absurd thing on the planet.
“Really?” John played along. “How ever do you manage?”
I smirked and grabbed a banana that was in a fruit basket on the
tabletop.
“So what are you going to do about your uniform?” John took a sip of
coffee.
I shrugged. “We’re going to have to go back to Ron’s.”
“I’ll go in for you. Where is it?”
I almost laughed. “Well then where am I going to get changed, in the
car?”
John shrugged. “At school’s fine I’m sure. I don’t want you going in
there again.”
I swallowed some banana. “I’ll be fine,” I said casually.
John eyed me suspiciously. “Fine, but you run in and run out, you hear
me? And I’ll be waiting downstairs.”
• • •
We approached the manor yet again, my stomach churning, getting that
same feeling it always did when I knew something bad was about to
happen.
We walked up to the large wooden doors and rang the bell. I doubted Ron
would be awake yet. He was the type of man who worked by his own
schedule and everyone was too scared to suggest he do otherwise.
Everyone he was in charge of learned to hold their tongues when it came
to conversing with my father.
John and I exchanged glances after no one came to the door after a few
minutes. We even rang a second time with no prevail.
“Okay, I know what to do,” I said. I walked over to some vegetation
growing all the way up the front of the house. I looked up, planning my
approach. The vines led all the way up to my bedroom window. I began to
climb, grasping at the sharp vines and using my feet to support myself.
“What the hell are you doing?” John asked incredulously.
“No worries. I do this all the time.”
I smiled at the look on John’s face. He looked as though he just
witnessed an alien invasion. “Do you have any idea how dangerous that
is?”
“Nonsense, it’s not dangerous.” I said. I jolted and faked losing my
grip for a second just to see his reaction. It was worth it.
“Shuro, listen to me,” his voice was muffled by the wind now. “In and
out, okay? Don’t stay longer than you have to.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I shrugged him off as I approached the large window. I
always left it open a tiny crack. Ron never went in my room when I
wasn’t there anyway. I carefully slid it open and crawled inside, eyeing
around the messy room for my bag. I knew my uniform was in my closet, so
I walked over to it and sifted through hanger to hanger. Everything was
kind of thrown on top of each other and it was hard to make out pants
from shirts. Things fell when I finally grabbed at the blouse, tie, and
navy pants and matching blazer with the little St. Benedict’s crest on
the side.
I rummaged around the room for my backpack, nearly tripping over dirty
clothes and shoes. I finally spotted it, grasping hold of the strap and
ready to plot my escape when I was violently thrown backwards by a
suffocating hand over my mouth. My neck bent backward and I was
vigorously shoved against the door of my room. The strong force of it
all made me drop my uniform and bag. I struggled to be released by the
brutal grip of my father but I was no comparison to his strength. My
arms twisted, my legs kicking, but he just slammed me harder against the
door. He whispered in my ear savagely, starting out quiet then
escalating to a yell.
“Look who came back; it’s my little boy! I knew you’d return to me
someday.” His voice was so venomous and fake; it rang in my ears, every
word tormenting me. His breath smelled of strong alcohol, probably from
the night before. His face was only millimeters away from touching mine,
and I tried to pull away but couldn’t. “And you know what that little
boy has done?”
I couldn’t speak. His hand was still over my mouth, preventing me from
breathing properly, and nearly dripping with sweat.
“He has been a very bad boy. Because…” He reached in his back pocket.
His false coolness was doing a bad job of covering up a hugely derailed
monster who thought he was a man; I saw right through the disguise.
“Because he’s going to throw me in jail!” His yell was so loud I thought
my eardrums had burst. He frantically waved the newspaper clipping of my
story in my face like some savage animal. So he had seen it. “And if you
think, for one minute, that you are actually going to win this case…” He
gave the most evil smirk I have ever witnessed. “May I jog your memory
about your mother’s…” He licked his lips and then inched in closer,
brushing them over my ear. “…cancer?”
I kneed him as hard as I could in the pelvic area, and he actually
keeled for a moment, but not long enough for me to get away. I tried,
but he grabbed me by my hair and fiercely threw me down on the floor of
my room. I let out a shrill cry of pain.
“You fucking---” I started, but his foot came directly toward my face,
my vision going black for a split second. My head flew back, and I
suddenly couldn’t feel my nose.
“You can’t expect me to just sit back and watch you put me behind bars,
can you?” He walked over; even his pace was menacing. It was cool and
calm, circling around my limp body like a lion stalking it’s prey. I
eyed the door, checking if he had locked it; that would only delay my
escape. Thankfully it was unlocked.
“I’m going to do whatever it takes to get you out of the picture; you
know I can do that, don’t you?”
My fingers grasped at the ground as I desperately tried to regain my
strength. I couldn’t let him do this. John was right outside; so close…
If only I could scream loud enough. I had to do something; I couldn’t
just lay there motionless even though just about every part of my body
ached. I took a deep breath in, then, as fast as I possibly could,
scrambled to my feet and grabbed my bag and uniform by the door, turning
the knob hastily. I actually managed to open the door but was violently
tugged back by my wrist. Just as my body flung backward I turned around
and with all my force swung an unexpected punch toward my father’s face.
To my surprise it hit him hard, his face jolting back and his hand
releasing it’s grip on me. I made a run for it, speeding down the
stairs. I heard him stomping down after me, almost just as quickly. I
tried to speed up but my feet were too fast for my body, so just as I
approached the last few steps I tripped over myself and fell face-first
on to the hard marble. My neck felt like it cracked from the jolt, but I
used my hands to stop my fall, which was somewhat beneficial. The bones
in my hands felt broken but I still scrambled to my feet, Ron at the top
of the stairs making his way toward me. I didn’t look back to see how
close he was; I just made for the front door as quick as my feet would
allow. I frantically struggled with the lock for a few moments, my hands
shaking, but I managed to get it open before Ron reached me. I ran
outside and immediately collided with John, who had probably heard me
struggling with the lock and rushed over. I gasped for air and John
grabbed me by the shoulders, he seemed just as frantic after recognizing
my hastiness and condition.
“What in the hell—” He started, but then spotted Ron speeding down the
stairs from the open door. Without a word he shoved me behind him and
ran into the house, shouting “stop!” at Ron.
I clutched my chest, my heart pounding hard and fast.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” John yelled at Ron. My
vision was beginning to impair and I suddenly got very dizzy. I leaned
on the doorframe, trying to catch my balance. My eyes were glazed over
and my head throbbed so I clutched it. The yelling all jumbled together
in one big mass of sound and I tried to calm myself down by taking deep
breaths in and out. I stumbled outside a bit more, hoping to breathe
some fresh air. I leaned against the front of the house, it’s stone so
cold yet somehow relieving. I shut my eyes and tried to block everything
out; all the sounds, all the images flooding my mind. Blood trickled out
of my nose and over my lips. I wiped it with my aching hand to stop the
flow, but still it didn’t stop seeping out.
The next few minutes were a haze, all I remember is John slamming the
door and walking me to the car, his arm supporting my waist. We stopped
when we reached the vehicle, and I looked up at him through dazed eyes.
He stared down at me through sorrowful eyes, his head shaking gently in
shock and disbelief. There were no words exchanged, only the wind
blowing coldly against our faces. He pulled my shoulders in toward him
and wrapped me in a warm embrace. It was like the sun peaked through the
clouds and was shining strongly on me, offering me it’s delicate warmth.
The next minute I was in the passenger seat again, and John was driving
off. I looked over at John, the haze clearing away now. The fury in his
expression scared me a little. I sniffed and wiped my bleeding nose with
my bare hand again. John quickly got me a tissue from the glove
compartment in front of me.
“Here, take it. Pinch your nose at the top to stop the blood.” He was
still edgy while giving me the tissue and trying to drive though I
already had the thing in my hand. “No, at the top.”
“John, I’m fine. Focus on the road.”
John didn’t say a word until a few minutes later. “We have to get you
cleaned up.”
It seemed like he was holding back, and that he was going to burst with
rage at any second.
“What did you tell him?” I asked.
“That there will be police surrounding his house in a matter of
minutes.”
“Really?”
John nodded.
“Well what are they going to do?” I asked.
“Speak with him about the trial, gather some evidence. They were
supposed to confront him Thursday but I called them and forced the
changed of date. They can’t exactly arrest him on the spot yet. He has
the right to counsel.”
We stopped off at his office first, which was actually on the same lot
as St. Benedict’s school for boys. They might as well have been
connected. As we pulled up to the giant terrace, memories of all the
fights, detentions and suspensions circulated in my mind.
St. Benedict’s was quite literately a castle, older than time itself and
bigger than five football fields put together. I went to that school for
two years and I still hadn’t visited every corner of it. It was pretty
intimidating to the average new student, and the inside was even worse.
I couldn’t count all the times a first year asked for my help for
direction.
John’s building was a smaller one to the side of the school, modernized
but still had matching features like the grey stone walls.
We walked through the office, the new-fashioned inside completely
contrasting the outside. I dodged stares from elders as John greeted
almost everyone in the building. He used a set of keys to open the door
to his large office room, holding the door open for me as I walked in
past him. The familiar scent of fresh wood, the bright light shining
through the blinds, the way everything was perfectly in place made me
almost sigh of relief. This was one place that had started out bordering
on a prison cell in my mind, but that I had later grown more than fond
of.
“I’m surprised through all that you still managed to grab your uniform
and bag,” John commented.
“Yeah,” I adjusted my grip on both. John walked over and took the bag
from my hands, placing it on the seat in front of his desk.
In the room was one large desk, two seats: one for him and one for his
clients, a sofa, two bookcases and a door on the left to his own
personal bathroom.
“Here, come in here,” John suggested, walking toward the bathroom. “You
can wash up.”
Once we were inside, the bathroom seemed rather crammed. Everything was
perfectly organized and appeared like he rarely used it. It reminded me
of a hotel’s bathroom. The only thing it was missing was a shower.
He stood directly in front of me, against the counter. I looked up at
him motionless, unsure of what to do to ‘wash up’ with just a sink. A
few muscles in my body still ached, and because of that I remained
stationary.
“Here, let me help,” John said in almost a whisper. He gently slid both
his hands up to my waist, softly tugging on my shirt. I barely felt his
hands; they were so serene and stable. All I could feel were the backs
of his fingers raising up and over my ribcage. My skin formed little
goose bumps from the subtle touch, the cold breeze colliding with my hot
skin. All of my senses tingled and scrambled together, almost making my
knees weak. I felt like I was about to collapse. I lifted my arms
feebly, helping him to remove my blood-stained shirt. Everything was
quiet, all I could hear was the sound of both of our breathing, so quiet
yet so loud and tranquil all at the same time. It felt as though just
his touch alone had the power to cure all my wounds. He peeled my shirt
completely off and tossed it on the floor, but I barely noticed him move
at all. My eyes lay planted on his like a metal and a magnet, and it
felt as though nothing would ever go wrong again for the rest of my
life. John lifted an arm ever so gently so as not to ruin the aura of
the moment, and with the back of his hand brushed over my cheek in the
most delicate and affectionate way imaginable. Still those compelling
blue eyes stared back into mine, and in my head I heard a thousand words
though no lips were moving.
A knock at the door to John’s office interrupted any thoughts I was
having at that moment, and completely crushed any hope I had of things
advancing between me and John from there. John immediately seemed to
regain awareness of his surroundings, his head perking up on the last
knock. He turned around and grabbed a towel and wet it hastily with hot
water.
“Here, use this, okay?” He told me with a reassuring eye and then left
the bathroom to answer his door.
I heard him greeting the person at the door with a pleasant call of her
name. “Mary!”
With subtle disappointment I dabbed the hot cloth to my nose and minor
scrapes. In some areas it stung, but in others it was alleviating.
When I was finished getting changed I emerged from the bathroom to find
John talking with a familiar older woman with dyed dark brown hair and a
little on the chubby side.
“Ah, Shuro,” John smiled, his hands in his pockets. “You remember Mary,
one of my most credible associates?”
I offered a tight smile, carrying out the clothes I was previously
wearing. “Yeah. Hi.”
“Well don’t you look cute in your uniform,” Mary smiled. “How have you
been, love? John was just telling me about how you’re staying with him
now.” Mary folded her hands over her plump belly.
“I’m just going to say I’m good so we can dodge a really long, awkward
conversation,” I remarked, shoving the pile of dirty clothes in my bag
which lay slumped on the seat.
Mary giggled at that but John just folded his arms, smiling along though
I knew he didn’t find it quite as amusing as Mary did.
John turned to me after excusing himself from Mary. “Shuro, you sure
you’re up to going to school? You can stay here if you want; though I
can’t promise anything exciting.”
“I’m fine,” I shrugged. “What time is it?” I slipped on my backpack.
John glanced at his watch. “If you say so. Well, you’re already late.
It’s nine-thirty.”
“I’ll just be heading on out then,” I said, walking past them toward the
door.
“Just get a note from the office. Say you were with me,” John said.
“Yeah, yeah,” I waved him off and left his office. |
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