The Punished

by Peter Meredith

  4

  The night should have been his most worry free since he arrived. He had after all been quieter than on any previous day, yet he worried anyways, and not just for himself, for Amber too.

  She had been so loud when she had come out of her little trance that Miss Feanor must have heard it, even from downstairs. Still, the mouse had been noisy as well, with her constant whispering and Curt shamefully found himself hoping that she would be punished that night.

  He had a long time to hope.

  Just as the previous night, it took hours before the first of the twelve steps began to crreik and in that time, he decided that the next day he would confront Paul about setting him up with that fuzz business.

  "Don't think about a pink elephant." Some kid had said that to him once and sure enough, all he could think about was a pink elephant. What Paul did was virtually the same concept, he had implanted the idea of a noise within Curt and with the dead silence of the house, that noise had grown in his mind and nearly caused him to break. To Curt, who now barely felt the effects of the punishment he had suffered through while asleep, five nights previous, this was inexcusable. But he was willing to give Paul a second chance simply for Amber's sake. That and the fact that he had a sinking feeling that he didn't know the full ramifications of the punishment.

  Having seen the horrible teeth marks on his own body and the awful bruising, he knew that the bites would hurt terribly, but he was missing something from the equation. There were four teenagers against one lady, why did they never try to overpower her? Even if she carried a weapon during the punishments, she certainly didn't carry one about the house with her during the day. Something wasn't right about all of this, and he decided that figuring it out was almost as important as escaping. Tomorrow he would find out the truth.

  But he first had to get through the night. When the stairs started their ominous crreiking, Curt froze in fear beneath the blanket. Later, he would wonder about that. After five days, he should have been use to the feel of Miss Feanor creeping around his room, opening his drawers and circling his bed. However, it was with the same exact dread, that he felt his first night, that he cowered in the dark. It was inexplicable.

  She moved on, after what seemed like an endless time going through his meager belongings and when she did, he breathed a near silent sigh of relief. Miss Feanor then repeated this same routine in each room. There were no punishments that night, but Curt would not have long to wait for the next one.

  Chapter 10

  On The Sixth Day When All Else Was Complete, God Created Death

  1

  Day 6 was a nightmare and Curt spent the hours of the morning praying for a return of the rain. Clouds came in and tortured him with their teasing presence, but not a drop fell from the sky. But that didn't stop him from taking the trip up to his room every half hour or so, where the view between the shutters afforded him a glimpse of the low grey ceiling on the world.

  They seemed too light in color for rain.

  He sat up there brooding, gazing at the sky but seeing nothing until the silence became too loud and then he would go back down to be with the others. He found he needed to be around them, even Paul, whom he still felt animosity towards.

  Straight away after breakfast, he had written a note to Paul, but the blonde boy had yet to touch it, which seemed for now to be a good idea. His twitch had become so great, that reading or writing wouldn't be easy for him. Paul wasn't the only one feeling the pressure to be perfect. The mouse was easily the worst, her eyes zigzagged an unending "S" pattern, up and down, up and down, all the while her whispering had picked up so that if you bent near enough to her, you could barely hear the words:

  "You'll be next."

  When Curt had come down from writing his note, she had come through the family room door just behind him and grabbed him around the waist.

  "You'll be next," she whispered, he nearly screamed right then but held it back by the barest margins. Her hands went exploring toward the front of his pants and in revulsion, he forced her away from him. It was then he saw her eyes.

  He wished desperately that she would blink. She looked possessed and so frightful that he backed away from her, falling over Amber, who sat on the floor. He thudded loudly onto the carpet and scrambled to right himself just as the mouse came toward him again.

  "You'll be next," she whispered a second time. He hopped up and shoved her very hard toward the hallway and she walked off in that inhuman way of hers.

  Curt went to signal an apology to Amber, but it was as if she hadn't noticed any of what just happened. She lay sprawled from when he had tripped over her and had yet to move. Curt knew better than to touch her since the last time she had erupted loudly and so he only sat staring at her in growing envy. If this was how she dealt with pressure, she was certain never to be punished, or so he thought at first. But within three minutes of his arrival, she started as if being jerked out of a dream and spoke out loud.

  "Miss Snitters caught the balloon! Look Ma..."

  She blurted the words out happily as if she were at a picnic instead of trapped in that infernal house, but the next second she looked like she were about to vomit. Understanding struck her and sudden fear warped her face, turning it into something that more resembled a cartoon mask. Everyone waited to see if this was the final straw for Miss Feanor, but when nothing happened, Matt showed how the pressure was eating at him as well.

  He jumped up angrily and smacked the fist of his right hand into his left. It made a high slapping sound that was louder by far than Amber's words, but he didn't seem to care, he gesticulated rapidly.

  'She should be punished for that.' Matt wanted her in pain, it was sick. He looked on the verge of exploding further and again everyone froze in place. But after glaring about, looking to be challenged, he sat back down keeping his torso ramrod straight.

  The air in the room became charged with tension during this and it was sometime before it calmed enough for them to move about. When it did, Matt was the first to get up, and with a knowing look at Curt, he went to the bookshelves and began to thumb through each book, one after the other, Curt assumed he was looking for hidden notes.

  Amber returned to work on her etch-o-sketch and Paul attempted to read his book with only one eye. It was very sad to see him like this and Curt felt his anger to the boy drop a few degrees. At first, Curt tried to read Oliver Twist, but found he couldn't concentrate enough and so he then went to the bookshelves and followed after Matt, looking for anything that might have Morse code in it. But after unexpectedly being punched by Matt for not re-aligning the books exactly, he left again to check on the weather.

  Still no rain.

  This was how his morning went, until sometime after noon, things got worse.

  They were all sitting in the family room again, where the sameness was overpowering and the silence was worse, when the mouse for just a few moments, became Beth. It was the sudden lack of movement, coming from her direction that caused Curt to look up from the book he wasn't really reading and saw her as she could have been without her ever-present insanity.

  Beth had her chin canted upwards and cocked slightly to the side, while her brown eyes, for once, were still and held to the wall, the one that adjoined Miss Feanor's room.

  She acted as though she had heard something, and at first Curt felt certain that this affectation on her part was another sign of her ongoing craziness. But then he heard it as well.

  There was a very low, fuzzy murmur coming through the wall. In a flash, Curt hopped up and pressed his ear against it, and the sound became more distinct, yet still was indecipherable. The others, apart from Amber, who had spoken twice since her first outburst concerning Miss Snitters and was currently staring trance like again, saw his movement and stared at him as if expecting a report on what he had heard.

  He could only shrug, which earned him a hard push from Matt, who took his place at the wall and listened. The brown haired boy stood there with his eyes
partially closed for a few seconds, but then turned suddenly and sat back down on the floor. There, he picked up Curt's book and pretended to read it.

  By this, Curt knew Miss Feanor was coming and he too snatched up the first book at hand and read it...the cover upside down.

  2

  She walked through the doorway a moment later, her face aged and pinched with nervous strain.

  'Look at me,' she indicated, waving her arms and pointing at herself. To Curt she gestured, 'You, wake up Amber, quietly.'

  He made a great show of putting the book back perfectly, but this only seemed to anger her and she signaled for him to go faster. Feeling a mounting fear, he slipped behind the near comatose girl and with a sudden movement put his hand gently around her mouth, while giving her a little shake.

  "Mmmhh," she said quietly through his fingers. She struggled briefly, yet without any true strength and stopped at the sight of Miss Feanor; going rigid beneath his small hands.

  Once she had their complete attention, the lady then began to communicate through gestures but Curt was still very new at this sort of thing and only understood a small part of it.

  'Ok. ...visitor...Amber...we...ok.'

  This was all he was clear on and he glanced at the other children; everyone else appeared to understand what was being suggested, and their emotions ran an amazing gambit. Amber seemed to melt out of his hands and laid down upon the floor in the greatest misery. Tears seeped from her eyes and ran a silent course down her face as she stared up at the ceiling, gently shaking her head back and forth in disbelief. He looked down at her in complete confusion before turning to the rest.

  Paul, whose nasty tick had disappeared in the space of seconds, at first seemed relieved and then came shame at his relief and then oddly, sadness. Just as that first morning Curt had seen him, he was not sad for himself, only for Amber.

  Matt looked positively happy, he even gave Curt a perky smile, complete with a little eyebrow raise, but what this was suppose to signify, he didn't know. The mouse on the other hand, seemed to be without emotion and still looked like Beth, the girl she once was. Her lips had become quiet and at rest, while her eyes still moved about, but slowly as if she were curious about the world, rather than insane. She looked exactly as she had when Curt first laid eyes on her in the living room six days previous.

  Seeing them all this way, so suddenly, made his head spin and he turned to Miss Feanor shrugging his shoulders.

  'Matt talk to Curt,' Miss Feanor indicated.

  Matt's happy look faltered, but nonetheless, he obeyed her. Only he did it in the strangest manner. Grabbing Curt by the sleeve of his shirt, the older boy dragged him back upstairs to his own room and shut the door behind them.

  Curt couldn't help but be afraid at being trapped there with the bigger boy.

  However Matt didn't hurt him, but instead he took Curt by the shoulders and leaned in close with his mouth coming open slightly. Curt had a wild thought that Matt was going to kiss him, but instead he whispered in his ear.

  "Amber's social worker is coming here for a visit," he said very slowly and quietly, feeling the words out as if they were a foreign language to him. "Do not talk to her unless she speaks directly at you. Do not try to signal her in any form. If you do, you will be punished. If she looks at you, smile. If she talks to you, say that you enjoy it here. Follow Miss Feanor's directions."

  Matt leaned back and looked him hard in the eyes, checking to see that Curt understood.

  But Curt was still very confused and he moved in close, "Why is Amber so upset?"

  Matt didn't answer except to snort at Curt's foolishness. He realized then that Amber was going to be punished, just as he had that first day. This was monstrously unfair and he became angry over the stupidity of the house. Matt saw the look, but didn't care a whit and only pushed the little thief from his room before giving him a shove toward the backstairs. Curt wandered down them and then incredibly he found himself alone in the kitchen. This had never happened before and despite the thousand thoughts he had over the coming social worker, he jumped at the opportunity.

  Since he arrived, he had felt naked without a weapon and he figured a knife would do nicely. With a quick glance down the hall, he went to the first drawer by the refrigerator, which was where most people kept their utensils, but that one wouldn't budge, it seemed glued shut. Working his way down the line, he found that they all were. He gave the last drawer as mighty a tug as he could, but it may have well been welded in place.

  Next, he tried the cabinets and they were all equally impossible to open as well, all except the ones in the far bottom, where he found some cleaning supplies and a small store of the same food that he had been eating for the last six days. Exasperated and feeling that he had spent too much time in the kitchen than was wise, he left quietly, looking for Paul.

  He found him exiting the bathroom. Paul's drooping face and down cast eyes told him that he had read the note that Curt had left earlier. He didn't stop to make eye contact with Curt, but only slunk to his bedroom and shut the door.

  This is what he had written Paul earlier.

  Paul,

  You tried to set me up with that 'Fuzz' bisness. Trying to get someone punished is nearly unforgivabal. You are a backstabbing snake!!! Tell me why i should forgive you and then beg me for forgiveness or we will be enemies from here on.

  Just at the moment, with the coming of the social worker, Curt wished he hadn't written the note at all. Despite Matt's warnings, he saw this as his best chance to get out of the house and he hoped to enlist Paul's help. Plans were shooting through his mind at an amazing rate, but each was discarded just as quickly.

  The problem stemmed from how the other children had acted on his first day. They had stood far back away from Miss Gladys, as if afraid to get too near her and none of them seemed to look in her direction much at all. Amber had stared at the floor listlessly, the mouse had done her usual, looking everywhere, seeing nothing, while Matt and Paul, only looked at him. Curt had barely noticed it then; when around adults, teenagers were like that after all. But he saw now that they had been coached to behave that way and he was sure they would do so again.

  This was his dilemma.

  He didn't think he could get close enough to the social worker to pass her a note, so Curt needed to find some way to signal her. However, he couldn't do the signaling since it would be not only obvious, but expected by Miss Feanor. Therefore, the best option was for him to draw Miss Feanor's attention, and Matt's as well for that matter, and have Paul do the signaling. He'd have chosen Amber, but with the stress, she was a very fragile thing and couldn't be trusted.

  It would have to be Paul.

  Having no clue when the lady would arrive, Curt went straight into the bathroom. He nearly ignored Paul's response to his earlier accusation, he didn't think he had time for flimsy excuses, pathetic denials or bogus apologies, but he read it anyways.

  Curt,

  You were rite, i did set you up. A boy named Trey did the same thing to me when i was new and i went crazy with the noise in my head and i was punished. i wanted you punished as well. i AM sorry that i did this. When the presure starts to grow, this little voice in my head starts telling me all sorts of ways to sabatage everyone around me. i warned you to trust no one. And that goes for me as well. i fight the voice as much as i can, but sometimes i cant tell if it is me thinking or it. i want you as my friend and in my next note i will tell you all the ways that i have hurt people so you can be on guard against me. About the social worker...DO NOT try to talk to her or signal her or pass her a note. She will DIE if you do.

  Flabbergasted, Curt stared at the note. He was so keyed up about his plan that he ignored the threat to the social worker, thinking it highly unlikely and instead focused on what Paul had said about himself. Curt certainly hadn't been expecting Paul to admit to insanity. For a moment, he wondered whether he could trust Paul enough to pull off what he had planned, but he felt he had little choice
in the matter and sat down on the toilette and quickly wrote out three notes.

  The first was for Paul, the other two for the social worker. Curt wasn't going to leave them in the bathroom, that would take too long, he was going to hand them to the blonde boy directly. The note addressed to Paul outlined his simple idea.

  When the social worker arrived, he wanted Paul to take up a position next to the far side of the couch. When he judged the moment right, Curt planned on taking a few steps in the direction of the lady. Not enough to get her attention, but enough to focus Matt and Miss Feanor's eyes on him. At that point, Paul was to give a little wave to the social worker and make a show of putting a note behind the couch pillow, which always sat on that end of the couch. Then he was to signal her that this was their little secret, by putting his finger to his lips.

  Curt was a fine judge of human reactions and he felt that this was a good plan for getting her a note. He was sure that she would be very curious by Paul's actions and whats more, social workers had a tendency to view foster parents almost in an adversarial manner. He hoped this would be enough to draw her into their little conspiracy.

  The second note he'd give Paul, the one that he was suppose to slip behind the pillow, was identical to the third, which Curt stuck in the front pocket of his jeans. Both read:

  Lady, we are being held in this house against our will. Miss Feenor is sick in the head and violent. Beneath the shirt i wear, i am cover in bruises and bite marks. She threatens us daily with terribul punishments. Do not try to confront her yourself, but bring the police, she carries wepons.

  The third note was his backup plan. This he intended to put on the toilette seat in the powder room using a touch of spit to keep it in place. He'd then lay the seat cover over it gently, knowing that no one in the house would ever consider using that bathroom. This was a long shot, but it was worth a try and he would lose nothing if she never had to go.