Justin turned around, pressing his back against the door, he faced the shed. He jumped as a ray of sunlight glinted on the eyes of a monster that lay curled up in the far corner of the shed. White eyes gazed at him, and Justin was sure he could hear the raspy breaths of a nightmare creature as it woke. Shaking his head, he looked again. The light was not from a monster, but rather a reflection from two paint cans that had fallen over the shelf unit that ran along the rear wall.
Justin closed his eyes, trying to wash away the images his brain insisted on creating, but that only made it worse. He felt something tickle the back of his arm. Legs. He could feel them scurrying along his flesh as the spiders marched over him.
Justin slapped angrily at his body, imagining hundreds of spiders, their thick black legs as wide as his fingers and as hairy as his gran’s chin, crawling all over him, on his bare arms and beneath his shirt. He slapped himself until it hurt, but nothing could convince him that he was not still covered with the creatures. No matter how hard he fought, he could not hold off the sensation of the creeping, crawling bugs from his skin. Justin’s heart rate skyrocketed, and his breathing increased to match. He felt dizzy as a strange spreading warmth ran through his body, and then, with a rush like a wave crashing on the beach, the true blackness came.
Justin collapsed to the floor, crashing into the junk that had been thrown into the shed over the years. Only then, when his unconscious form became just another addition to the floor, did the first spider come out of hiding and explore the newest addition.
Declan waited for his mother to disappear into the kitchen before he made his way over to the shed. He waited for the music to start, and that was when he opened the door. Declan never understood why his parents treat him and his brother so differently. He had asked, but they simply punished Justin for being a tattler.
His hands shook as he worked the padlock from the door. Declan took a deep breath as he peered inside. Justin was lying on his side, his body covered in spiders, at least a dozen, the majority nothing but the big shed spiders; tiny bodies with long gangly legs, but there were several garden spiders, their striped bodies fat like soaked raisins. Black legs prodded at the podgy skin of Justin’s cheek. Declan hated spiders, but he loved his brother so he brushed them all off, slapping at them until his body was clean. He moved into a crouch, and grabbed his brother by the shoulders. Declan heaved him out of the shed, grunting with the effort it took to do so with just one arm. Justin woke up as he was halfway out of the door and was able to help push himself free.
Declan pulled his brother to the side of the house and held him, cradling him like a protector. “It’s going to be alright, Justin. I promise.”
Justin couldn’t find the strength to speak. His body shook with cold and his teeth chattered every time he relaxed his jaw. Instead, he sought comfort in his brother’s embrace, but found a sadness there, because he knew it would not always last.
However, it was what they had, and in each other, they had a bond that could not be broken. Both understood that the life they lived was not like the life of anybody else they knew, but at the same time, it was their life, and to wish it away still felt wrong somehow.
“How about we go up to our room and play a game of Monopoly or something?” Declan offered as his brother’s sobs died down.
“You hate Monopoly.” Justin looked up at his brother. He felt ashamed, and he felt angry. A range of emotions that he could not quite put words to bubbled within him.
“No, but you like it, so what do you say?” Declan knew his brother wouldn’t able to resist a chance to play the world’s most boring and never-ending game.
“Can I be the battleship?”
“You can be anything you want.”
“Cool, then let’s go.” Justin got to his feet and froze.
To get inside and into the bedroom would mean going past their mother. Unless they went around the side and in through the front door, but that was usually locked when their father wasn’t home.
“Don’t worry, she’s listening to her tunes; she won’t even notice,” Declan whispered. “You go upstairs and I’ll get us both a drink and something to snack on.”
Justin held his breath as he crept through the kitchen. Peggy didn’t notice, however. She was lost to her music and a cigarette, the cloud from which hung in the kitchen, gathering above her head like a brooding storm.
The house they lived in was a decent size, and while there was a spare guest room that was never used, the boys were made to share. They liked it that way too.
Their room was decorated with a simple blue and white striped wallpaper and a dark blue carpet. Their beds, which were bunk beds until a few weeks before, stood on opposite sides of the room. A large window occupied the wall between the two items of furniture, while a toy chest stood beneath it, guarding their more valuable toys. The board games were in the closet, and while Justin had grown a lot over the last year, almost catching up with his brother, he still couldn’t quite reach the shelf where they sat.
So he sat on the floor and watched as Declan pulled down several boxes of games, including Monopoly. He had brought a bag of chips from the kitchen, and two cans of cola for them to drink. Their bedroom was their sanctuary, and for some reason, it was the one place in the house their parents rarely entered and always behaved in. Justin found a great comfort in the room and was always happy when Declan suggested they stay there to play.
The afternoon moved by with them moving through four different board games and the entire bag of chips. By the time their father got home, they had forgotten the problems of the morning and were even looking forward to the smells coming up from the kitchen, of the meal their mother was cooking.
Chapter Three
May 1992
The rain hammered against the windows, but the horizon was starting to brighten, a shimmering possibility that the three days of rain were finally over and a dry spell was looming.
Justin was sitting in his room, headphones over his ears, the Walkman he had worked to save for was playing Guns N’ Roses November Rain. It wasn’t his favorite song, but it was a mixtape he had made from the radio, and any music would help to distract him from the world around him.
He sat at the desk, in the gloom of his room, only the desk lamp providing any sort of light on the large piece of paper that was spread over the desktop.
A collection of pencils laid spread around the image that Justin was working on. Still in its early outlining phase, he was working on the main focal character, a superhero of his own creation, leaning heavily on the DC characters he enjoyed reading so much.
Justin had been twelve when he first discovered comics, and once he had his own bedroom, he started collecting them with the money he earned on his paper route, and then, as he got older, from the wages he was paid for working at the local grocery store. Mr. Bukowski was a nice man who had three children, all of them a lot old than Justin was. Justin had never met them, but he guessed they were in their twenties or thirties, given how old Mr. Bukowski looked.
Justin worked weekends and three evenings a week at the grocery store, and he loved every minute of it, being out of the house, talking to people. He picked up every shift he could take, as long as it didn’t interfere with his schoolwork. He did it for the money too. While it didn’t pay a lot, and even less after he bought comics and the meager art supplies he needed, Justin had still managed to save up a decent sum of money. As soon as he was old enough, Justin was moving on.
Top of his class in school, he was looking forward to going to a university to study design. He had dreams of becoming an illustrator. When he wasn’t at work or at school, Justin was in his room, rarely coming out to interact with his family, other than his brother. He would draw image after image, sometimes large murals on rolls of paper, other times small scenes sketched onto some sticky notes. He loved the place his mind would take him to when he started drawing and was more than happy to spend his free time there … anything to take hi
m away from the depressing place in which he lived.
He didn’t hear the door to his room open, not the sound of his name being called. The first time he realized he was not alone was when the hand fell on his shoulder, causing him to jump out of his seat.
“Declan, Jesus, you made me piss myself,” Justin said, slapping at his brother’s arm. “Don’t creep up on a guy like that.”
“Sorry, I called you, but you weren’t listening, as usual.” Declan placed an extra flare of sarcasm on the words as he looked over his brother’s shoulder at the current work in progress. “Looking good. What’s it going to be this time?”
Justin looked back at the piece of art and took a slow breath. “I’m not sure yet.” There were outlines of a building, a tenement block most likely, and several others on a street lined with cars. The superhero character was off to one side, watching down the street at whatever was going on.
“I’m going to guess a building fire. Someone set fire to apartment blocks, maybe a fight between mob families. Your hero is there to rescue some cute damsel in distress,” Declan said, pointing at the outlined of the building. “She’s right behind that window there.”
Justin rolled his eyes. “It’s always about the damsels in distress with you.”
“Damn right it is; they are always grateful, if you know what I mean.” Declan gave a wink and then started laughing.
“Ugh, that might wash with your friends, but you can’t fool me, brother.” Justin returned the smile and half turned back to his drawing. “What did you want anyway?”
“I wanted to ask if I could borrow the car. We are heading to the movies and I want to pick Annie up in it tonight. That way we can have some alone time, once the movie is finished,” Declan said, kissing the air with big wet smooches.
“But I have to work tonight,” Justin began to complain.
“Oh, well what time?” Declan asked, his head already thinking ahead of possible options.
“I start at five, but need to get some things first, so wanted to leave at four,” Justin answered, pausing. “I’ll tell you what. If it’s dry when I leave, you can have the car and I’ll go on the bike.”
“You mean that?” Declan asked, his mood suddenly improved.
“Yep, now get out of here, I want to get some more of this done before I leave.” Justin ushered his brother out of the door and replaced the headphones over his ears. November Rain had stopped, much like the rain outside his window was doing, and instead Duran, Duran was warbling some ballad that Justin just could never get into.
Justin returned to his drawing, picking up his pencil, and losing himself his art. Before he knew it, he had the first tendrils of smoke rising from the damsel’s window creeping up the page. The flames themselves would have to wait, however, because when he next looked at his watch, it was time to get ready for work.
Dressed and ready for work, Justin stopped by his brother’s room, where he threw the car keys onto the desk. Declan sat hunched over his desk, working on an English essay that was no doubt overdue, or on its final deadline extension.
“You will probably need to put some gas in it, depending on what movie house you are going to,” Justin said as his brother looked around.
“Okay, cool. Thanks, bro.” Declan smiled.
“Hey, that’s what little brothers are for, right?” Justin returned the smile and left.
His parents were both at home, his dad sitting in the living room, his ass parked in the large chair positioned right before the TV, a can of beer in hand and several empties lying on the floor by his feet. His mother was in the kitchen, prepping a dinner that she seemed to have forgotten neither child would be there to eat.
“Where are you going?” his dad growled, just happening to look up as Justin passed through the open door.
“Work,” Justin answered, not wanting to expel any more air on his old man than was truly necessary.
“When will you be back?” his mother asked from the kitchen.
“I’m working til close, and taking my bike, so not until late,” he answered, putting his jacket on as he spoke.
“Oh, well, then you will need to fix yourself something to eat because this meal won’t keep.” Peggy turned her back and disappeared deeper into the kitchen, her piece spoken.
Justin didn’t bother giving an answer. He didn’t care enough to do so. Instead, he grabbed his bike key, and backpack from by the front door, and was gone, pedaling down Clarence Street in the direction of town. He needed to drop by the art store and see if the watercolors and market pens he’d ordered had arrived yet.
Declan watched his younger brother leave the house, happy to see him get away without any trouble. As the years went by, Declan had tried to do everything he could to rationalize his parent’s behavior. From thinking that he was the problem, that it was his fault they treated him so differently, to blaming Justin for it, convincing himself that his brother was asking for the problems because of his attitude. However, none of that was true, and now, as he stood on the cusp of manhood, with the prospect of moving out looming large on the horizon, he realized that it wasn’t their fault at all. It was his parents. They were the only ones to blame, and he and his brother had been conditioned to accept that sort of behavior as normal.
Declan was waiting for a promotion at work, one that would see him become a sort of manager within the frozen vegetable factory where he worked. Once that came through, he would finally be able to move out, and he planned on taking his brother with him, away from their family, away from the dangers that were always bubbling beneath the surface.
After he had showered and changed his clothes, Declan grabbed his wallet and took a few of the bills he had stored away in his lock box. He only ever kept a certain amount of cash for spending, while the rest went into his savings account. Taking enough to make sure he could show Annie Wallace a good time, he splashed on some cologne and hurried downstairs.
“Honey, do you want some dinner?” Peggy asked as she heard her son’s footsteps on the stairs.
“No, I’m going out with some friends. We’re grabbing a pizza and a movie,” Declan answered as he grabbed his jacket and slid the car keys into his pocket.
“Oh, well, I’ll plate you up a meal anyway. You can eat it when you get home.” Peggy didn’t wait for a response but moved the already-plated meal to the kitchen side where it could cool off before she covered it and placed it in the fridge.
“Alright,” Declan said under his breath, opening the door and pulling it closed without looking back.
The car was parked on the street. The older model Ford had a small oil leak and his father did not want them parking it in the driveway.
The car started on the first try, and without so much as a cough, Declan pulled away. He slid a cassette into the player, and Iron Maiden began to blast through the speakers. Declan didn’t know if Annie was a metal fan, but she would be by the time he was finished. He had a range of cassettes and would take her through it in stages.
Justin didn’t mind giving up the car to his brother. He enjoyed being out on the bike. The rush of fresh air helped him clear his mind, and let go of the problems and heavy thoughts that haunted him most hours of the day. It also meant that he would be home later, and that was a fine thing in his book.
With the prospect of university looming, provided he got accepted, Justin knew that he was getting close to the end. He had survived hell and more pain than any child deserved to know about. He felt bad for his parents, that they had no other capabilities than to resort to abuse. It didn’t mean he loved them or felt anything for them, but he refused to lower to their level, as that would, in his mind, only validate their choices.
Horn Hill was a small town, a satellite of a larger city. They picked up on a lot of passing trade, but very few people stayed long enough to really look around. The grocery store was located on the edges, picking up those as they arrived, or left, depending on what direction they were traveling.
It wa
s not one of the large chain supermarkets, of which the town somehow had two of, but it did enough business to survive, and for Justin, that was the main thing. He knew everything about surviving. That was part of what drew him to the Help Wanted sign that had been placed in the window.
The shop was empty when he walked in and was likely to never have more than a handful of people in at any one time. It was calm, and it was easy going, and for Justin, it was a little slice of heaven.
It was almost ten and closing time was fast approaching. There had not been a customer for almost an hour, so Justin locked the register and went to start stocking shelves. He was done with the tomato soup, about ready to swap out an empty tray of minestrone, when he heard the door close.
Rising from the crouch he had been in, he saw two figures walking along the window towards cooling units at the back of the shop.
Justin moved the box of soups against the side of the aisle, and returned to the register where he waited for the customers to return.
Justin recognized the pair from school. Both were girls he shared some classes with. Popular with the jocks, Cassie Martin and Sarah-Jayne Hudson were both good-looking girls. Not the sort of people Justin mixed with. He stuck more to himself at school. He couldn’t let anybody get close.
“Don’t I know you from somewhere?” Sarah-Jayne asked, as she loudly chewed on a piece of gum.
“English class,” Cassie replied without skipping a beat.
“That’s right,” Justin answered, smiling.
“I remember the presentation you gave on that Orwell book, Animal Farm,” Cassie continued, her eyes locking onto Justin’s, which caused him to feel a rush of excitement and an equally powerful rush of fear tear through his body.
“Thank you,” Justin said, not sure how to respond.
“I didn’t know you worked here,” Cassie said, taking control of the conversation, something that did not seem to bother Sarah-Jayne who was already being distracted by the gossip magazines that lined the front of the register counter.
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