I remember seeing a news report later that night on TV about it. “Tragic car accident kills a young girl.” She wasn’t wearing her seatbelt and the force of the impact threw her into the windshield where the broken shards severed her legs. She died on the hood of the van, as the flames burned around her.
My mother caught me watching the report. Instead of turning off the TV though, she just went upstairs to her room and closed the door. My dad was in the hospital, as well, suffering from minor injuries.
I wanted to throw up.
Apparently, Dad told the police that a semi-truck had swerved into their lane, forcing them off the road. With bloodshot eyes, he told them he suspected the driver had fallen asleep.
I remember Tommy sitting next to me on the couch, watching, a slow smile edging up his face. At one point he patted my leg and muttered, “Good…he’s doing good.”
A couple days later, my parents got the funeral they wanted. My sister was buried at St. Michael’s and my eyes remained dry through the whole thing. I watched the mourners with an almost vengeful hatred. Old ladies sobbing, parishioners weeping. But what…the hell…had they done to help? Where had they been when we so desperately needed someone to see us?
The reception was a garble of condolences and comforting hugs. A lady I vaguely recognized tried to hug me, her lip trembling, and I almost smashed my glass of water across her face. Instead, I stepped away from her and spent the rest of the wake sitting outside, hating everything with unholy venom.
After a couple months, the tide of time washed the whole ordeal away. My family faded from the public eye once again and we were labeled as a tragedy. I couldn’t believe no one saw through the façade. I couldn’t believe no one was asking questions.
I think the vacant stares of shell-shocked horror my parents wore helped sell the pain. Everyone bought the story because there actually was no pain to sell. It was real and it was engraved into every crease and pore of my parent’s faces. How else could human beings look so…inhuman? How else could that far-off gaze find my parents’ eyes?
We had become phantoms of our own existence.
As winter faded and the world tanned once again, I noticed something through the fog of misery. Something different. Something different about Tommy. At first, I didn’t think much of it because it was such an ordinary thing, but after a couple times, I realized I had never seen him perform such an action before.
He was writing. Somehow he had procured a small household notebook and I would often catch him scribbling in it. Whenever he took notice of me watching him, he would quietly put it away and smile at me.
When the cool of spring heated to the blaze of summer, I was overcome with dangerous curiosity. I needed to know what he was scribing in that notebook. It ate away at me and for some reason. I thought it would hint at his plans for our family. Or maybe it would detail his departure. Or was he just plotting future lessons for my family, storing them away so he wouldn’t forget? I didn’t know and the burning desire to peek into those pages rose like an all-consuming maw in my tired head.
I was sitting in the living room when I got my chance.
Tommy was in the kitchen, watching my mother prepare dinner for when Dad got home. The notebook was in front of him, closed. He was tapping a pen against the cover, staring at the back of Mom’s head. He hadn’t said much that day and I noticed an almost annoyed aura hovering around him that afternoon. He didn’t like the state of despair we had all fallen into. I noticed that it turned his cheerful mood sour. More than once he snapped at the three of us because of it. But we were so numb to pain at that point, we didn’t care. Let him hurt us. Let his anger billow against us. We simply didn’t care anymore.
“I’m going to go start the grill,” Tommy said from the kitchen table. “Mike prefers his chicken like that. Who knows, maybe it’ll be enough to get him to smile tonight.”
My mother just nodded from the counter, continuing to season the raw chicken before her. Her hair hung in a tangled mess around her shoulders, his clothes wrinkled and in a state of disarray. Tommy stood up, shaking his head.
“My patience for your mopey attitude is growing very thin, Penny.”
Mom half turned. “I’m sorry, Tommy. I’m just…just tired today.”
Tommy snorted, “Well, snap out of it. You’re infecting the rest of us with your long face. What do you have to be so miserable about anyway? Huh? You have a roof over your head, a beautiful son, and a loving husband.” Tommy advanced on her. “Are you ungrateful? Is that it? Have you become bored with your life?”
Mom just sighed, her voice barely a whisper, “No, Tommy…I’m just tired.”
Tommy reached her and spun her around, his voice brittle. “I heard you the first time. And I told you to snap out of it.”
He slapped her across the face, bringing a gasp from my mother. I clenched my fists from the couch as my mom doubled over, rubbing her cheek. A tear escaped from the corner of her eye and she brushed it away.
“I want to see a smile when I come back in,” Tommy warned, turning. Mom just nodded and watched him go to start the grill out back. The storm door creaked and when it snapped closed, Mom looked at me and turned away. I wanted to say something.
Instead, I slid off the couch and hurried over to the kitchen table. Tommy had left his book. Mom paid me no attention as I scooped it up and retreated, heart pounding. This was dangerous, so dangerous, but in that moment, I didn’t care. I had to know. It was the only clue I could hope to gain. I pressed the notebook to my chest and quickly walked upstairs to my bedroom, listening for Tommy. I prayed he would stay outside.
I paused at the threshold of my room, training an ear for sound below. The steady chop of my mother’s knife was all I heard. Quickly, I sprang for my bed and propped myself up against the headboard. I took a moment to steady my hands as I turned the small book over in them. Did I dare? Of course, I did.
Taking a deep breath, I slowly peeled the pages open. At first, I didn’t understand what I was seeing. I turned to a fresh sheet. Again, my brow furrowed. What on earth? Heart tripping over itself, I proceeded to tear through the notebook, practically ripping the pages in the process.
It was all the same.
Every single page mirrored the last. It was one phrase repeated over and over again but then crossed out in angry, thick scrawl, two massive Xs connecting the corners of the page.
Six-six-three-five-eight-Rez.
My eyes widened as the memory flooded my confused mind. I knew these words…I had been given them by the voice in my headphones. I continued to soak in the chaotic scrawl, the lines and lines of crossed out nonsense. He must have written it hundreds of times, each page darkly X’ed out.
What did it mean though? How could this help me?
“What have you got there, Jack?”
My head whipped up at the voice and my heart sank into my stomach. Tommy leaned against the door frame, his arms casually crossed. A small smile tilted the corner of his mouth. His perfectly smooth skin gleamed in the sunlight from the window. His eyes sparked their luminous, terrible blue light and I slowly closed the book. I knew it was useless to try and hide it.
Tommy crossed the room and gently plucked the notebook from my hands. I stared into my lap, the first shades of fear darkening my heart. I waited, knowing that some punishment was bound to follow.
Instead, Tommy placed his hand beneath my chin and tilted my eyes to meet his. They were gentle and he almost looked compassionate. I didn’t dare trust it.
“I understand your curiosity,” Tommy said quietly, still holding my chin in his hand. “It’s quite natural for boys your age to be…curious.”
I waited, my chest rising and falling with anticipation.
“You’ve grown up so much since I arrived,” Tommy continued. “You’ve learned so much. I’m very pleased with who you’re becoming. You have a big heart, Jack, a very big heart. You care deeply for those around you. I can see it. But sometimes I see clouds ho
vering behind your eyes: dark, angry, resentful storm clouds.”
I swallowed, hovering in his grip.
“But I believe in you,” Tommy pressed, his voice almost a whisper. “I believe you are going to be a good man someday. This darkness you feel…let it go. You’re about to enter your teenage years and that is the most exciting time in anyone’s life. Don’t let your bitterness ruin it.” He traced his finger up my cheek now. “Instead, embrace the warmth you feel towards those you care about. Focus on that instead of the anger. Do you understand what I’m trying to tell you?”
Emotionless, I nodded.
Tommy smiled again. “Good, Jack. You’re a good boy.” His fingers caressed down my nose and his thumb brushed my lips. “You always were my favorite.”
Adrenaline spiked through my system as Tommy pressed his thumb into my mouth, guiding it across my tongue.
“Such a beautiful boy,” Tommy breathed, swathing my mouth. Gingerly, he pulled his thumb out past my lips and stared down at me.
Holding eye contact, his licked my saliva from his skin, his tongue absorbing it in slow strokes. My stomach churned and the adrenaline I felt oozed into dangerous terror. Tommy lowered his thumb and crouched down by the bed, now at my level.
His voice was breathy and shallow, “I think you’re ready for your final lesson.”
His hands traveled across the covers and found my legs, his fingers mounting them and sliding up to rest around my thighs.
“T-Tommy…” I sputtered, trying to scoot away from his toxic touch.
Tommy gripped my thighs and pulled me to the edge of the bed. “Hush, Jackie…hush now.”
My hands balled into the sheets as I was pulled toward Tommy. My face was inches from his now and I almost gagged as his breath blew warm across my skin. It smelled like rotting meat.
“Do you know what I’m talking about, Jack? About what I want you…to do?”
I squirmed, trying to escape his eyes that now burned with focused intensity, “Tommy, I…I don’t want to do this…please…”
Tommy reached out and stroked my cheek. “It’s ok to be afraid. Everyone is their first time. But it’s going to be ok. I’ll be with you. I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”
Tears found my eyes and ran helplessly down my face. I knew what he wanted…I knew what he planned to do with me. It was an act so alien and adult, a foreign secret that kids only whispered and joked about when their parents weren’t around. And it scared me terribly.
“Please don’t make me,” I whispered, sniffling.
Tommy reached out and wiped a tear from my face. “Shh, shh, shhhh. No tears, Jack.” He leaned in and for a horrifying second, I thought he was going to kiss me. Instead, his voice found my ear. “I want you to go across to Jason’s house. I’ll be waiting for you.”
He pulled away and looked into my eyes, making sure I understood. I nodded miserably, dragging a hand across my blubbering nose. Tommy stood and ruffled my hair.
“Go on, be quick about it.”
Wordlessly, I slid from the bed and followed Tommy out of the room. He took my hand once we entered the hallway.
Together…we descended.
When we reached the ground floor, I desperately searched for my mom. She could stop this; she had to stop this. The fear that rolled through my stomach teased vomit in the back of my throat. I looked to the kitchen, a cry for help rising.
Tommy didn’t give me the chance. He pulled me to the front door and opened it. Placing a hand on my shoulders he pushed me outside. The hot summer sun dripped from the sky like steaming glaze and I felt its heat coat my skin in a sickly film of sweat. I turned around, one last begging plea fluttering from my lips.
But Tommy just smiled and pointed across the street. “Go on. I’ll be waiting.” And then he closed the door. Miserable, I turned and began to sob. I raised my hands to my face. Not this…please…please not this…
I looked up, vision slightly blurred…and saw a car crawling down the road towards the cul-de-sac where I stood. I didn’t recognize the car which meant it wasn’t someone from around here. For a second, hope sprang deep and true from the pit of misery I was wallowing in. They could help…they could help me! They had to!
As the car continued toward me, I ran to meet it. My feet padded through the grass of our front lawn and met the hot tar. I could see the driver now, a man about my dad’s age, his window rolled down.
And he was waving me over to him.
Breathless, I hurried closer as he slowed, practically slamming into the side of the car as I reached it. My fingers gripped the edge of the lowered window, eyes bloodshot and pleading.
“P-please sir,” I sputtered, “please, you have to help me!”
The man looked startled, my distraught appearance catching him off guard. His face was weathered and red, sweat rolling through his graying hair.
“Whoa, easy kid,” he coaxed. “Relax, I’m just lost and I need some directions. Been driving around the countryside for hours now. I’m looking for Poplar Street. You know it?”
My grip tightened against his car. “W-what? No! But listen you have to help me, there’s a man who’s…he’s going to…”
The driver shook his head. “What are you talking about, kid?”
“He’s going to hurt me!” I managed to sputter, snot and fresh tears running down my face, mind reeling.
The man’s voice turned serious. “Who is? Who’s going to hurt you, son?”
And that’s when the Murphy’s front door opened. Tommy stepped outside, smiling and waving to the two of us, his voice calling across the lawn.
“Everything ok, Jack?”
“That’s him!” I almost screamed, turning back to the driver, “That’s the man!” My eyes were wide and streaked with terror, my lips barely able to form the words.
The driver turned, confused, to stare at Tommy and then back at me. I could see conflict rise behind his eyes and uncertainly roll through him like an evening storm.
“P-please…don’t leave me,” I wept, trembling.
Tommy stepped forward onto the front stoop. “What’s wrong, Jack? Come on, dinner is getting cold!”
No…no stop it. Shut up shut up shut up—
The driver turned to Tommy and called through the open window, “This your boy, mister?”
Tommy gave an exaggerated nod. “Yeah, sure is. He’s a good kid, but he gets a little emotional sometimes. I’m sorry about the trouble. Come on, Jack, let’s go your mother is getting impatient!”
I spun to the man, vision dancing with specks of darkness. “That is not my father.”
The man looked hard at me and then, to my horror, I saw a weary understanding wash through him. He leaned out the window and lowered his voice. “Look, kid, everyone hates their dad at one point or another. Just respect him as best you can and one day you’ll realize he’s just trying to do what’s best for you.”
“N-no!” I cried as the man started to pull away. “No don’t leave me! PLEASE!”
“JACK!” Tommy yelled.
The car inched forward and then my grip was lost. Completely dumbfounded, I watched as the man spun around in the cul-de-sac and headed back down the street, throwing Tommy a wave which he returned.
The sun threw itself against my face as I stared at the shrinking car. Sweat rolled down my face in great, sloppy streaks. My heart was beating so fast I could hear it in my ears, a roar like a bloody current.
How…how could he just leave me…?
How could he not see what was going on…?
Why…why wouldn’t someone save me from this hell?
I suddenly felt something surge inside of me and I balled my fists, the impending future looming over my head like a razor-sharp axe.
I screamed a terrified, horrific sound that blasted across the evening sky. I screamed and I screamed, shrinking down to the pavement and curling into a ball. Tears poured from my eyes like rivers of sorrow and I shook with disbelief and terror.
> I began to scream even louder when Tommy scooped me up from the pavement and marched us into the Murphy’s house, slamming the door closed behind him. The silence that greeted us seized my howls and stole them away into the soft nothingness.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” Tommy said quietly as I gasped against him, his grip firm around my waist and neck. “That was very, very dangerous, Jack. You should know better.”
“Stop it,” I begged, finding my breath. “Stop it, put me down, don’t DO THIS, PLEASE, TOMMY!” I began to struggle against him, a last-ditch effort to stem the flow of reeking fear. Tommy just held me tighter as we ascended the stairs.
Toward the bedroom.
“Don’t take me in there,” I hissed, spittle flying from my lips. “Please don’t take me in there!”
The door at the end of the hall stood like a gateway into another world. A world devoid of understanding. A world not meant for children. Tommy walked us closer.
I suddenly realized that the Murphys were nowhere to be seen. The house was silent, a somber, empty thing that filled the quiet with unknown secrets. Had Tommy killed them? Was Jason dead? Why were we alone here? Why wasn’t anyone stopping the horrific act about to happen?
We reached the bedroom door and Tommy pushed it open. Together, we entered.
I turned in Tommy’s grip to stare inside…and felt a rush of fear engulf me like a blanket of ice.
Mrs. Murphy, Jason’s mom, lay naked and bound to the bed. Her arms and legs stretched to the bedposts where they were wrapped tightly with strong rope. Her skin was a mess of bruises and scabs, evidence of a lesson taught.
When she saw me, she closed her eyes and moaned.
“No…no, please…Tommy, please…”
Closing the door behind him, Tommy put me down. His hands clamped around my shoulders before I could move, rooting me in place. My heart was racing and I averted my eyes, embarrassed and terrified at Mrs. Murphy’s nakedness.
She struggled against her bindings, voice pleading, “Tommy, you can’t do this, he’s just a child! PLEASE, TOMMY!”
The Third Parent Page 10