He got up and before he realized what he was doing, he sighed heavily. Midway through the sigh however, he heard the amount of noise he was making and clamped his mouth shut in panic. It had been only a whisper of a sound, but in the silent house, it had been loud...perhaps too loud and Curt felt goose bumps flare across his arms. Standing in front of the door, he paused, but wasn't frozen in place as a normal twelve-year old might have been. He was prepared to run if need be. Thankfully, though, it wasn't needed and he waited less than ten seconds before moving with all the silence that he was capable of, to the family room.
The room boasted two tall shuttered windows on the eastern wall and after a quick glance around, he moved speedily to them, but before he even considered touching them, he went through an exaggerated ritual of inspection. The sills were dust free, and the glass looked newly cleaned, even the little catch mechanism was shiny as if freshly polished.
Clearly, someone had cleaned these recently, but despite that evident truth, Curt feared to touch them. Just as the front door, the window was too obvious an escape route. At least this one was, but he held out a slight hope that a second floor window wouldn't be considered a likely way out, after all, they were quite high off the ground.
With that thought, he left the room and moved up the stairs, making almost no noise as he went. Halfway up though, the steps began to creak in harsh angry tones beneath him. He stopped with his heart in his throat and after a moment, decided to go back down. However, his first step brought about another terribly loud squeal from the wood and this time he did freeze in place.
2
Curt stood paralyzed with fear at the thought of making any more noise and for minutes, he sweated on the stairs, not knowing what to do.
"Sss," a barely perceptible sound came from above him, and when he looked up, he saw Paul peering down over the railing at him. Paul pointed at a spot on the next stair and then pointed at his right foot. Catching on, Curt put his own foot where the older boy had pointed and stepped up noiselessly. Paul then pointed at another spot further up and in this way, Curt soon made it to the top.
He smiled his thanks to the taller boy, who smiled back, but also winked at him. Paul's eye then winked twice more and as Curt rudely stared, it winked again. Only then did he realize that there was something wrong with the boy's eye. Curt looked away, quickly embarrassed for him, but Paul waved for him to look up at him again and by gesture he told Curt to follow.
Paul then proceeded to go up and down the stairs, pointing out areas that were safe and thus silent, and other areas that were loud and thus dangerous. Paul made not a whisper of a sound as he moved and Curt felt a touch of shame at this. Back on the streets, he would frequently look down his nose at many of the young would be thieves that he hung out with, scoffing at how loud they were. He had thought of himself as a cat like rogue and was proud of his ability to move noiselessly, but compared to Paul, he was a complete amateur.
After he had moved up and down the stairs to Paul's standards, they then went and began to practice on the backstairs. At first, Curt progressed well at these, but on his third trip down, he happened to look into the kitchen and saw Miss Feanor sitting at the kitchen table and his movement caught her attention. She eyed him with a malevolent stare and he felt his stomach turn upside down.
Once again, he couldn't move. The thought of making even the smallest sound while she was near at hand froze him in place and it was all Paul could do, to get him to budge again. Finally, they moved at a snail's pace up the stairs, but Curt refused to go back down, he'd never been so afraid of one person in all his life.
He had associated with drug dealers, played pranks on escaped convicts and had carried on conversations with known killers, some of whom were terribly frightful, however none compared to this woman. Miss Feanor was only slightly bigger than he was, but his heart raced at the sight of her. In less than a day, she had drugged him, beat him, chewed on him and now held him as a virtual slave.
Paul pulled him bodily along until they came to the main staircase and then he forced Curt to follow him down again. They went to the family room and unexpectedly Paul left him. For a long while, Curt stood there alone not knowing what to do, and then the blonde girl came in, but she stayed only long enough to grab a book.
Giving up on Paul, he turned to leave, but Matt stood in the doorway blocking his exit. The older boy clearly didn't like him, even though he had done nothing wrong and the look on Matt's face spelled trouble. But just then, Paul returned, pushing rudely past Matt and ignoring Curt all together, he went to one of the bookshelves and put a book back in an empty spot. As he turned to leave, his eyebrows went up in the slightest way and his eye winked once, a slow deliberate wink, very much different than his others. Curt supposed there was some sort of secret significance to the wink, but he didn't know what it was.
At the doorway, the two older boys shared a look that left no room for doubt that they disliked each other, and then Paul pushed past Matt again and left. Curt had no idea what to do and only stood staring at Matt for a few long minutes before the older boy left as well.
Now he hoped that Paul would return, but he didn't and after about a half an hour, Curt became sleepy just standing there alone. He thought about doing a puzzle, but he wasn't in the mood, so he went to the shelves and after taking a quick peek at the dull book titles, he groaned aloud. Immediately he regretted it and knelt there in desperate fear that somebody had heard. But like his earlier sigh, it seemed to go unnoticed and after a few minutes he relaxed and looked again at the books.
It was then that he noticed that one of the books stuck further out than the others. It jutted only by half an inch, but in that house of complete orderliness, it may as well have been half a mile. The book was Oliver Twist and it was very likely the one that Paul had put back, only just then.
A sudden rush of keen excitement flooded through him, but he had the presence of mind to keep his face a stony mask. Picking up the book, he gave it a long look, allowing his eyes to register contentment at the fine choice he had made. After a suitable period, he put the book under his arm and headed up to his room; using the quiet path on the stairs, that Paul had shown him.
Curt had no idea how or if he were being spied upon by Miss Feanor, but he took no chances and shutting his door, he leaned against it. He then opened the book and slowly skimmed over it as if he found it a very interesting read, on the fourth page he stopped, seeing the note that he had desperately hoped he would find.
3
New Kid,
My name is Paul Jenkins. i am 14 years old. Don't try to escape!!! The doors to the outside cant be opened and the windows are nailed shut. The glass in them isn't glass. i think it is some kind of really hard plastic. i think that it is unbrakable. My first day i tried using a chair to smash it and it didnt work. im sorry this is so short but every thing is monitored here. How? i don't know. There is a pen between the matresses of your bed you can leave me a note in this book. no one else reads it. Tell noone about this. Trust noone. At night stay under your covers. If you hear anything don't look!!! No matter what dont look!!!
This was scrawled on a piece of toilette paper and Curt read it twice, before he got up to use the bathroom. He flushed the message along with his urine and as calmly as possible, he took some toilette paper and made a show out of blowing his nose, while pocketing a few pieces. He then went back to his room and sat on his bed in a silent state of shock.
There was no escape.
The idea left him empty inside and for the longest time he could only stare at his hands as a great depression settled about him. He wanted to lie down and sleep and maybe dream. He wanted to pretend none of this was happening to him and he wanted most of all, not to think about the punishment. But that wasn't possible. He kept envisioning Miss Feanor biting him in his sleep and he had to force himself to think past it, and eventually he did, focusing on a new idea.
Paul was wrong. Curt could escape. In his hard life,
he had been in many rough spots before and there had always been a way out, he would just have to find a new route that Paul or Miss Feanor hadn't envisioned. This thought buoyed him and he scrambled off the bed and dug under the mattress, finding the pen right where Paul said it would be.
But just as he went to bring it out of its hiding place, his door opened and Miss Feanor stood there eyeing him. He swallowed audibly and froze with his right hand under his mattress. His heart began to beat with a great thumping noise in his ears and he felt certain that she knew everything about the note. However, she only pointed at him and then made the universal gesture for eating.
It was time to eat? That didn't seem right, it felt too early but there was no arguing with an insane person and so Curt nodded and then acted as if he were straitening the covers on his bed, before getting up. When he turned to the door, she was gone. In a flash, he was back down on his knees and grabbing the pen from between the mattresses, worried that Miss Feanor now knew all about it, he stuck it on the lip underneath his box spring. This wasn't an ideal spot since it could roll off and drop to the floor if the bed were jolted, but it would have to do for now.
Using his new quiet technique, Curt moved down the stairs and made his way slowly to the kitchen. He still couldn't slide soundlessly as the others, so he walked in his quiet fashion and found everyone waiting for him at the table in the nook. Taking the only remaining seat, he attempted to give each person a smile, but it was a waste of an effort.
Paul pretended not to see it and started eating immediately, the girls looked as if he were a bomb waiting to explode and dug into their food in a hurry as well, while Matt initiated the meal by sneering at him, but then progressed to a nasty hateful look that had Curt terribly perplexed. Miss Feanor ate with them as well and he forced himself to give her a smile too. He was less afraid of her, now that the other children were nearby, and the way she acted relaxed him even more. He had expected her to attack him at the slightest sound, however she ignored him completely and only sat eating and thinking, her eyes far away.
Without the benefit of clocks, he had no idea if this was a very late lunch or a very early dinner, but either way it wasn't much of a meal. Steamed rice, spam and uncooked carrots. Looking at his plate, his mind threatened to rebel at the prospect of putting any of it in his mouth. However, with Miss Feanor right there, he knew he would have to behave just like everyone else, so he took up his plastic fork and began eating.
Using an old trick to build a subconscious rapport, he decided to mirror Matt, and he emulated his every gesture and move. The boy didn't notice. No one seemed to notice, which was fine with Curt, since his goal wasn't to annoy Matt, but to blend in. After awhile however, he wished he had emulated one of the girls, instead. Well actually, he wished he had chosen the blonde one.
Even with her pallor, she had nice features and he considered her cute, but the main reason he wished he had chosen her, was that she ate quickly and after barely a minute, she pointed at herself and then cocked a thumb at the door.
Miss Feanor nodded and the girl left.
A moment later, the mouse did the same thing. He would never be able to emulate the mouse. It was simply too difficult to look at her for very long. It was her buggy eyes. Even while she ate, they flitted about with a disconcerting speed and Curt hoped that she had a medical condition of some sort. If she didn't and he suspected that she didn't, it meant that she was going insane.
Paul had an odd eye problem as well and when Curt glanced his way, sure enough, the boy was winking away at his food. It bothered Curt to see the wink and he wondered how long it would take before he started winking or acting strangely, or seeing things. At the thought, the muscles of his shoulders spasmed. It was only for a moment but still he quickly looked over at Miss Feanor to see if she had noticed. She had, and for some reason she gave him a hard look. It was a look of warning and he went down the list of don'ts that she said would be punishable, only his little spasm wasn't on the list. But did it really matter? Crazy people were hard to judge and the list was surely subject to change at any time, and probably from moment to moment.
Matt had seen his little shiver as well and he wore a look of spiteful glee. It seemed that the older boy considered the move a harbinger of something more and he watched Curt closely, with a fire of anticipation in his eyes. But Curt disappointed him by going back to his carrots. These were very difficult to eat quietly and he kept making what seemed to him, a very loud crunching noise that no one else had made.
After a minute, Matt didn't see what he had expected and went sullenly back to eating, at this, Paul gave him the world's smallest smile. The corners of his mouth hadn't move in the slightest, but the muscles near his eyes twitched in a little way. Curt only relaxed a little at this, thinking he had passed some test and wondered what they had been expecting.
When he had finally swallowed the last of his carrots, he too asked permission to leave and went to his room. Shutting the door behind him, he grabbed his pen from its hiding place and hurriedly began to write a response. However, in his hurry, he became careless and ripped the toilette paper.
"Shoot!" he whispered in anger and the word, like the smoke from a candle, hung in the air. He froze with the pen in his hand, listening for the near silent rumor of Miss Feanor's gliding feet. But after a minute of listening for that dreadful sound and hearing nothing, he sighed quietly and let his shoulders slump down. With far more care, he returned to his note.
4
Dere Paul,
My name is Curtis Regis. i am 12 and going to be 13 next month. How long have you been here. How do we get out? There has to be a way. Have you tride the chimey? Why do we have to clean everyday? You say dont trust anyone but the blond girl looks ok, Is she beth or amber?
With the rip in the paper, there wasn't room for anything else, not even a signature and he was ok with that, what he wasn't ok with, was his handwriting. It looked like a five year old had written the note and he felt a keen sense of embarrassment over it, but there wasn't anything he could do about it, so he tucked the note into the book. He hid the pen again under the box spring and then slid the book under his pillow, thinking he would go to the family room and check to see if the coast was clear before taking it back, but just then, the blonde girl came into his room, uninvited.
'Yes?' his eyebrows said to her.
She ignored him and from where she stood in the doorway, swept the room with her gaze. Her face gradually turned sour and eventually she held out her hands to him, palms up and touching. It looked as though she wanted him to put something in her hands. He didn't know what she meant by this, and said so with a shrug. She then opened and closed her hands rapidly giving him a look that told him just what a moron he was for not understanding. Curt considered himself a cut above the average when it came to brains, but he was clueless as to what she was trying to tell him.
She sighed, and it was loud. Coming further into his room, the girl began opening the drawers to his little dresser and he noticed for the first time that there were clothes in it. As she dug through them, inspiration struck him and he pulled the book, Oliver Twist from beneath his pillow and held it out to her. In exasperation she blew out heavily and snatched it out of his hands, before storming out of his room, it was a near silent storm however.
He watched her go, not knowing what to do concerning the note. But he had less than a second to worry about it because Matt came into his room then, and ignoring the blonde girl, who had brushed right past him, beckoned for Curt to stand. When he did, the older boy frisked him, checking his pockets, and even his socks. Matt then went to the dresser and rooted around in it and after that, he checked Curt's bed, going so far as to lift up the mattress and peering beneath it. The pen sat just inches from his hand, but Matt didn't check beneath the box spring and by a miracle, the pen stayed in place.
Unlike the blonde girl, Matt was absolutely noiseless. He was even quieter than Paul had been and despite Curt's natural dislike
for the boy, he admired the way he moved. It was as if the air went undisturbed as he walked through it, and his feet seemed to pull the sound of his passing into them as he went. Curt felt like a drunken pig next to the larger boy.
After the search of his room, Matt handed him the stack of pictures that he had inadvertently left in the car and then motioned Curt to follow. They went into the bathroom and in the closet, were cleaning supplies of every possible nature, Curt groaned inwardly at the sight of them. He hated to clean. In his vision of the future, when he had developed his talents as a thief, he pictured himself living in the finest hotels where room service and maid service were only the touch of a button away. And not only did he hate cleaning; he wasn't good at it either. In one of his foster homes, after drawing on the walls in a fit of boredom, he was forced to clean up after himself. Only, he had made the situation worse by scrubbing too hard and he accidently peeled the paint off the walls. After that, he knocked over his bucket with an ill placed foot and stained the carpet.
Unlike then however, he began sweating simply at the sight of the cleaning products. If he screwed this up, he would have to face the punishment. And with that weighing down his mind, he watched Matt's every move and noted each detail. Matt went first to the back stairs and indicated that he should sweep it twice and then wash the walls, before moving down to wash the actual stairs and base boards.
The same attention was to be given to the main hallway, but there, he also had to clean, dust and polish, two long running tables and the girlish nick-nacks that sat upon them. Next, they went to the powder room, which even though it was off limits to everyone, still had to be wiped down and polished to a gleaming white. Matt had Curt start there first, since the other children had to be able to move about the house, in order to clean their own areas.
The Punished Page 5