Chapter 4

Content Warning: Parental Abuse in First Section, skip to Second Section to move beyond.

Ben sat quietly on the floor of his bedroom; guitar perched on his raised thigh. He lightly strummed the strings in no particular tune or rhythm, the sounds comforting. His head was leaned back against the royal blue walls, eyes hopelessly attempting to follow the circulating movement of his ceiling fan.

It was only when he held his precious instrument that he felt he had a home, the smooth wood and harsh textures of the strings biting into his fingers. The house that stood over his head protected him from the elements yet did nothing to protect him from anything else.

He waited for the rumble of the garage door under him to start. It happened every day, especially now that his dad had been arrested two years before and was not set to be allowed parole for another three. His mom came home at the same time, in the same mood, every day. And every day, fear sparked through his chest, warning him that anything could happen.

He waited, dreading the day when she would finally lose the rest of her sanity, coming home with a gun or a knife to end his terror. It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about it, but he wouldn’t allow himself to lose faith, not yet at least. He kept going, if not for the people who actually cared, then a signal to prove that no matter what she did to him, he still held hope.

Over the years, the fear had slowly lessened, becoming more of a voice of caution in the back of his mind than the full-body response it had been before. He supposed that was bad, but it was his normal. Of course, child services had gotten involved after odd behavior had been reported by a neighbor. In the end, they had not been able to prove anything, shrugging it off at his mom’s explanation of a soccer ball for a bruise on his cheek and alleged regular slacking in school for the loud voices. It was a miracle they bought it, the worst miracle of his life.

He sighed, closing his eyes tight as his hand fell still, silence settling in the room. It was deafening, no better than when she was home, as the ghosts of her words continued to haunt him in the still air. No matter how many times Rachel reminded him otherwise, he couldn’t help but somewhat believe that he deserved it. He was a burden to his mom, making her work two full-time jobs just to put enough food on the table so that he wouldn’t starve. For being a failure as a son, hiding in his room, and only being average in school. Factually, he knew it was wrong, but it did not matter. He held no benefit to the others around him, and dragged Rachel down, making her worry about things that she otherwise wouldn’t.

He strummed a chord blindly, the sound ringing out pleasantly in the otherwise silent house. No. He wouldn’t turn his back on the glimpses of light he had seen and held so dear for all these years now.

His eyes shot open, his heart jolting painfully in his chest as the rumble under him registered. He stopped his fingers on the strings, quickly shoving his one freedom under his bed. The last time she had heard him playing, she had threatened to burn it.

The mechanical sounds of their old, junky sedan pulling in carried through the floor as he pushed himself off it; the slam of the door followed all too soon.

“Benedict,” her voice snapped from below, cutting into him. “Come down here and help me.”

He left his room hesitantly, his hands clenched together in his sweatshirt pocket. He trekked his way through the confining house, his prison, another slam of the door made him jump. His feet felt heavy as they hit each step, pulling his hands free before she could see him.

“What are you waiting for?” She huffed once he had reached the bottom, her gold eyes flashing. Her features, so similar to his own, twisted with frustration and exhaustion. Her brown hair was about ready to fall out of the tight bun she always wore to work, her calloused fingers tightly gripping grocery bags, a few more placed down by her feet. “Come on now.”

He picked up the remaining bags as she moved around him, shocking any emotion he harbored away as he turned to follow. They walked in what many would see as uncomfortable silence, though he much preferred it to the alternative.

They reached the kitchen, he followed his mom in placing the bags on the counter. “You do remember where everything goes, right?” Her harsh tone broke through the fragile silence.

“Yes,” he replied, careful about his tone, as it could very easily be the thing to set her off once again. Today seemed to be one of her better days, but he wasn’t about to risk it. Even if she thought he was thinking badly of her, she didn’t hesitate to slap sense into him. He was lucky that he had only been thrown out of the house twice, though the walk to Rachel’s had been cold, and he had been fearful of being mugged the whole time with all the crime that took place in the area.

He started to distribute the items on the shelves of their small cupboard, while she focused her energy on the refrigerated items. They worked quietly, the bags were quickly emptied and stored for later use. He made his way back to his room, while she began to prepare dinner in the kitchen. He leaned against his door once it was closed, shielding himself from the tension that filled the air around her.

He moved to pull one of his notebooks from his backpack, opening his notes to review for a quiz he had the next day. Yet, as hard as he tried, he couldn’t concentrate as he looked at the words he had scrawled out, they might as well have been in a language he didn’t understand with how much he was getting done. I hate her. He told himself quietly. But that was a lie. He didn’t, he couldn’t. As terrible as she was, as much hurt she had caused him, he couldn’t bring himself to hate her, or anyone for that matter.

He sat like that, notebook open, staring blankly ahead until his mom’s voice called that dinner was ready. This had been their daily routine since his father was arrested, even to the point of him only pretending to do homework while being unable to focus. He stood, moving back across the house to the kitchen.

“I did your job for you,” she shot him a look. “You’re welcome,” she gestured to the now empty dishwasher that he knew only finished while she had been cooking.

He moved to pick up a plate, scooping the small amount of pasta left in the pot onto it. He did not respond to her statement, nor did he want to. There was no need for a fight right now. He grabbed a clean cup and filled it with water from the faucet, taking a quick sip to soothe his chapped lips.

“Thank me,” her voice hardened.

He placed his plate and glass of water onto the counter, pushing them away from the edge. He knew what was coming.

He flinched at the sound of a chair being pushed back on the tile, her footsteps heavy with anger as she quickly approached him. He winced when her hand clamped down on his arm, wrenching him around to face her.

“Do not disrespect me,” her eyes burned, her grip tightening on his already bruised arm.

He gritted his teeth, gathering his courage. “You don’t own me,” his voice trembled as he said it, but it was enough.

She threw him away from her, causing him to stumble into the corner of the wall, the back of his head spiking in pain. “Apologize,” she demanded, following his motion. “Now.”

“Why?”

A crack rang out and he found his head turned to the side, his cheek burnt by her rage. He raised a hand unconsciously to touch the tender skin, only for it to be gripped by hers. She swung him around, his feet losing their balance, sending him tumbling onto the hard tile.

“You petulant child,” she growled, standing over him. “After everything I’ve done for you. Apologize.”

He stared back in defiance of her wishes, doing his best to push down the terror he was feeling.

Her face twisted further with rage, her weight shifting. He braced himself but it wasn’t enough for when she brought her foot down.

His vision went white.

____________________________

Anna walked slowly into the living room from the small hallway where her room was located, her hands wringing around each other as she watched her father put on his shoes.

“Are you okay?” He looked up from tying his left shoe, finishing, and switching to his right.

She nodded, biting her lip lightly as she made her way to join him at the door, sliding her feet into her boots before pulling up the zippers.

“You don’t have to go, Marie,” he reminded her again, using his nickname for her. His violet eyes watched her with open concern, his hand twisting his keys between his fingers uneasily at his side.

“It’s okay,” she offered a small smile. “I just…” she released a sigh. “I just don’t know what to expect, or what to do, or what I should say, or-”

“You don’t have to do anything,” her father cut her off gently. “He’s your uncle, not a judge. Now, I know it’s going to be different, but it will be okay. He isn’t expecting you to be anything except his niece, and as much as I know he wants to meet you, you don’t have to meet him tonight.”

“I want to meet him,” she mumbled out. “It’s just…”

“Something you’re not used to, and that’s okay.” He finished for her, placing his hand lightly on the top of her head, the weight strangely comforting. “Tell you what,” he continued softly. “We’ll both go, and if you’re uncomfortable, we can leave at any time. Ji-Joseph will understand, and if he doesn’t, I’ll talk to him about it later.”

Anna took a deep breath, her father removing his hand. “Okay,” she agreed.

“Now, I don’t want to add too much pressure, but Joseph is hosting a student your age. It shouldn’t be a big deal, but you might have met him if he goes to your school, and if you want to just talk with him instead, it will be okay.”

Anna nodded, brushing the idea to the side. Today was about meeting her new family, and though she knew her father was trying to help, giving her ways to escape her anxieties on the matter didn’t help much.

“Let’s go,” she smiled.

They moved to her father’s large pick-up truck, an odd vehicle for someone like her father to drive, considering the connotations of some who drove them, but it had come in handy while constantly moving. She hopped into the cab as he rounded to the driver’s side, her thoughts flying at a hundred kilometres per hour.

“It will be okay,” the end of his sentence was cut off by the roar of the engine coming to life. “I’m nervous too, it’s been almost thirteen years since I saw him.” They slowly pulled out of the driveway, turning onto the narrow street.

“What happened?”

Her father was quiet for a few moments before a heavy sigh filled the space. “I…” The silence was only avoided by the sound of the indicator. “It’s complicated.”

“It’s just,” Anna started carefully. “I never knew I had an uncle, or cousins, or anything.” The event with the dagger earlier that week came back to mind, bringing the questions she had spent days trying to push down back to the forefront of her thoughts.

“I know,” his voice was strained as he spoke those two simple words that implied so much more. “I guess… life just has a way of tearing people apart sometimes.”

The answer was not enough, it was not nearly enough, but she could feel her father’s painful memories arising once again. His hands clenched the steering wheel as he changed lanes. His face was pale, muscles held tight while his violet eyes remained locked on the road. Guilt rose in her stomach at her poor decision to bring up this topic now of all times.

“Okay,” she turned to look out her window, watching the houses in this new neighbourhood go by. It was a nicer area than where her new house was, though not the nicest either in a place such as Rochester.

Eventually, her father eased the truck into the driveway of a pale blue house, potted flowers lining the walkway and practically framing the front step. It was possibly the most easing thing, that their house looked like it was likely for a sweet grandma to be living there. She could see a red-haired, middle-aged woman through the front window, speaking to someone out of sight. Her breath caught, her heart pounding in her chest.

They unbuckled without a word, her body heavy and mind buzzing while exiting the truck. She froze after the dual car door slams rang through the air, her nervous energy spiking through her muscles. The woman was gone from the window when she looked, alerted by the sound.

She clenched her fingers together behind her back as they approached the door, it opening before they could reach the front step. She took in the sight of the man, surprised at exactly how similar he and her father looked. They shared the same sharp cheekbones and straight noses and a similar shape to their eyes, though the colour was drastically different. Joseph had bright turquoise irises, while the curls of his hair were more rusty brown than dark chestnut. A grin was spread across his face as he stepped down to pull her father into a hug.

“Ei nalok iru,” The foreign tongue her uncle spoke into her father’s shoulder rang a bell in Anna’s memory. She was sure she had heard her father speak similarly, though what language it was, she didn’t know. “Ei farayinok iru ziar naen.”

“Ei orsa,” Her father pulled back with a smile brighter than any others she had seen on him. “It’s good to see you.”

“Hello,” a warm voice made her turn to see the woman from the window, her light green eyes shining. “I’m Charlotte,” she smiled easily.

Anna smiled back, the knot in her stomach starting to release. “I’m Anna,” she could hear how her voice had risen half an octave from its normal state, making it somewhat pitchy. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too,” her smile widened. “Stephen,” Charlotte turned to Anna’s father who released Joseph to pull the woman into a hug as well.

“Should we go inside?” Joseph suggested, gesturing to the front door that had been left hanging wide open.

“Yes,” her father clapped his hands together expectantly.

“I have a chicken hot dish in the oven, I hope that’s okay,” Joseph looked for their reaction, receiving confusion.

“A hot dish?”

“Casserole,” Charlotte explained.

“Why do you call it a hot dish?” Her father blinked.

They both just shrugged, leading them inside.

Their living room was not much larger than their own, though the care that had been put into it made all the difference. The walls were mint green with rich, purple curtains framing the windows. The white living room set was shockingly free of any blemishes, though what was more shocking was exactly who was sitting on the far end of the couch.

Golden eyes stared back at her, or rather past her, directly at her father. Why Jacob was sitting in her uncle’s living room, she couldn’t begin to imagine. The fact that his jaw gaped open in awe, however, was both hilarious and baffling.

“Jacob?” Her feet stopped short, and she tried her best not to stare at her classmate, but the circumstances were challenging. “What are you doing here?”

His gaze shifted to her, a strange blush reaching his face before it was quickly gone. “Hi,” he offered awkwardly, a strained smile stretching his lips.

“We’re hosting Jacob while he’s here for school,” Charlotte explained while walking over to the small kitchen in the front corner of the house.

Said the boy was back to staring at her father, who was visibly uncomfortable at the attention. Anna couldn’t help but notice that it was at about the same intensity that he had stared at her on and off over the last few days. It was weird, but she already knew that. She would have expected him to be more shocked at her appearance, rather than what appeared to be her father.

“Hello,” her father addressed him.

“Hello, sir,” Jacob swallowed, the look of awe not dropping from his face. “It’s an honour to meet you, sir.”

Her father looked at him, narrowing his eyes slightly. After a few moments, he spoke. “I know your father, don’t I?”

“Yes, sir,” for some reason, Jacob’s face paled.

“Please stop calling me sir,” her father gave a barely audible sigh. “My name is Stephen, and you are?”

“Jacob, s- Stephen.”

“And you know my daughter, how?”

“Father!” She whipped to look at him, knowing what he was about to do.

“School,” Jacob answered anyway.

Her father watched her classmate carefully, his violet eyes thoughtful, yet he didn't say a word.

“Father, it’s been three days. Please do not do this.”

“Okay,” her father drawled with a teasing grin pulling at his lips and eyes lightening. “But if I catch him flirting with you…” He left the statement unfinished, raising his eyebrows at Jacob as he spoke, causing the boy to laugh nervously.

“I’ve only acted in the most respectful manner.” He assured the man.

If she hadn’t been trying to end the interaction, that statement would have made her question what his definition of ‘respectful’ was. So far, he had stared strangely at her and her father, stolen her pens repeatedly throughout geography class, and messed with Rachel to the point of the redhead slamming her head on the lunch table in frustration. Other than that, one could argue that he acted respectably.

“Dinner will be ready in a couple of minutes,” Charlotte’s voice came from the kitchen.

“Annamarie,” Joseph’s soft voice made her turn, his aqua eyes gentle, yet so sad as he looked at her. “You’ve grown up so much since I last saw you,” he smiled. “I just want to apologise to you directly for giving up on you and your father. I shouldn’t have done that; it wasn’t fair to leave you all alone.”

She swallowed, unsure how she was supposed to respond to that. She nodded, suddenly aware that her hands were once again gripping each other tightly. “Thank you,” she murmured. “Please also accept my condolences for your daughter.”

Joseph winced, and she suddenly regretted bringing it up. “Thank you,” his smile was tight. “I’d like to think you two would have gotten along,” his gaze shifted to Jacob who was still stuck in a stuttering conversation with her father. “I’m glad to hear that you’ve connected with others at school.”

“Did he know?” She had to ask, even though his look of shock when she had come through the door was enough.

“No, we didn’t know you two knew each other.” Joseph shook his head. “He keeps to himself a lot.”

Her eyebrows furrowed at that, the loud, somewhat obnoxious boy she knew saying otherwise.

Charlotte leaned out of the kitchen suddenly, smiling kindly. “Find your seats, everyone, I’ll bring it over to the table.”

Joseph gestured to a pathway around the living room into a small dining room at the back of the house, three walls sporting large windows that gave a generous view of their wooded backyard.

Charlotte reappeared through an arch that must have led directly into the kitchen, a glass serving tray filled with what she was sure was the casserole.

They settled down to eat, mainly letting her father and Joseph talk through the meal. She could feel Jacob’s eyes glancing toward her every so often, not unusual now, yet something about it felt different. The atmosphere of the room was heavy with the joy of the adults, there was her own feeling of awkwardness and anxiety, then there was an unmistakable conflict between amazement and sorrow. She watched him for a minute as he stared down at his plate, his brows furrowed and jaw tight.

He must have felt her stare, his gaze rising to meet hers. The boy who looked back at her was not the one she had come to know over the last few days, the playful exterior and eyes full of laughter now tight and haunted. By what, she had no idea, but she could swear that his already vivid gold eyes sparkled with light. Do you know? His voice inserted itself into her thoughts, as it had when they had met for the first time.

She could feel her hands begin to shake from where she held them on her lap, hidden by the table. She glanced at her father, who was deep in conversation with Joseph about one of the trips he had taken earlier in the year. She looked at Charlotte next, her aunt listening politely to the stories. None of them seemed aware of the stifling darkness that had suddenly taken over the room, cutting into her worries.

He held his gaze for a second before a minute shake of his head. No, you don’t. He broke the connection, turning his attention to shoving a forkful of casserole into his mouth.

“Excuse me,” she murmured to Charlotte, struggling to keep her tone neutral. The woman turned her kind eyes to her expectantly. “Would you mind if I use the loo?”

Charlotte blinked at her for a second before smiling, an odd look to the expression. “Of course,” she told her. “The bathroom is the first door on the left in the hall.”

“Thank you,” she stood, her father glancing at her questionably. She shot him a look that said: I’ll be back, his reaction of dropping his fork onto his plate with a loud clatter making her jump as she moved from her chair. Both he and Jacob watched her with cautious eyes as she shuffled out of the room, her nerves firing off at a record rate.

She moved through the living room and into the hall that she had seen when they came in the front door earlier. She whirled into the loo, shutting the door behind her with a pounding heart.

The room was small, with olive green paint and the most basic line-up that she had seen in almost every one of her houses over the years. She leaned against the door, squeezing her eyes closed. His words echoed in her head, the sorrowful feeling now the only feeling besides the unbearable desire to know. Know what? What was happening to her? This whole day was turning into a complete disaster.

She could hear the others’ muffled voices in the dining room, their tones were much more serious than they were before she had left. An overwhelming feeling of something important happening overcame her, instinct overtaking her.

She concentrated on the words they were saying, recentring herself so that it was as if she was in the room with them, eyes staring blankly ahead. She was barely aware of the soft golden light that reflected off the objects in the room. The words came through sporadically, barely decipherable. “Protect… father… months-” Jacob’s voice was barely louder than a mutter, the darkness that was filling him sending another bolt through her system.

“My shear… expect…” It sounded like Joseph; his tone just as low.

Anna focused her attention on the conversation, hoping to get more than she already was. None of this made any sense, especially the fact that she was doing this at all, but she’d come back to that thought later.

“-Thought you were dead…” Jacob was speaking again, the rough tinge to his voice clearer than before. “Inform… I wish…”

She was starting to get a pinching feeling in the back of her head, but she had to know more. She could feel her nails pinching into the palms of her hands at her sides, her breaths coming in short and steady. I have to know.

“I… done my best.” Her father’s voice was grim when he finally spoke. “Understand… they know.”

“I will… whether… father or…"  Jacob argued back, and Anna felt her heart begin to beat faster in her chest.

“See… you care…” Her father’s voice held a darker tone than she had ever heard from him before. “I’ll keep my word.”

An image appeared in her mind of her father reaching into his pocket, his violet eyes narrowed. There was a dangerous edge to the way he was holding himself, like a hunter who had just spotted his prey. It made her uneasy that her father even had the capability of looking that way.

“Sen… where did you get that?” Joseph’s voice was a gasp. Anna narrowed her eyes in concentration as the image grew clearer.

“Doesn’t matter. You must protect her.” The image of her father returned this time with Jacob holding a small golden rod tightly in his hand. The boy’s eyes were wide, his lips parted in shock. “I failed, but you mustn't.”

“I don’t deserve-”

“Promise me.”

The image of Jacob regarded the golden object in his hand like the rod meant more than anything else. He raised his eyes back to her father, a determined gleam in them. “I promise.” Suddenly, he stopped, blinking. His gaze glanced around the room before his eyes glowed gold. She could see him say something to the others, but the words were lost in her connection.

Suddenly the image was yanked away from her, leaving her standing beside the door; their quiet voices unable to be comprehended beyond quiet hums and mutters. Anna took a deep breath, flattening her hands against the door. The image of his glowing eyes and what little she could understand of their conversation filled her thoughts. She just stood there, weight leaning against the door as her limbs shook.

Was it possible that this was just her imagination running mad again? Just like when the dagger had flown into her hand, this felt more real than anything she had ever experienced, while simultaneously being more insane than the wildest stories.

She had spent the last two days now pretending that the dagger incident hadn’t happened, or at least trying to. Now, the questions were doing nothing but grow. Somehow, her father, uncle, and Jacob were involved in what was happening. Though what that was, she still hadn’t figured it out.

Slowly, she made her way over to the sink, leaning on the counter as she made eye contact with herself in the mirror. She was paler than usual, her eyes conflicted as they searched for answers. She bit her lip, an idea breaching her thoughts. She reached out as she had before, this time keeping herself aware. Though this time, those in the dining room were silent, she could still see what she was looking for.

She lurched away from where she stood as the eyes in the mirror stared back with a gleaming gold, the light dying quickly as she lost concentration. She was frozen, only her chest rising and falling with her gasps of shock. A shock of pain throbbed behind her right eye, persisting even as she blinked and the golden glow faded back into the kaleidoscope of her eyes.

She raised her hand, gently caressing along the tender skin around her eye. She swallowed as she looked at herself in the mirror, unable to recognise herself staring back at her. What was this? What was she? Could it have been that she imagined hearing that conversation? But what did it mean if it was real?

After a moment, she turned away from the mirror, her hands unconsciously gripping onto the end of her ponytail, winding the curls around her fingers as she stood, debating her next move. She wiped the fear and confusion from her face, reaching for the doorknob before she could change her mind.

She made her way back to the dining room, finding the rest of them the same way she had left them earlier, their food hardly touched.

“You’re back,” her father offered her a warm smile, as though nothing happened. He stopped and looked at her for a moment. “Are you okay?”

She swallowed, aware that her hands had begun to shake again. She glanced around the room, noting the concerned looks on each of them but Jacob, his eyes narrowed in thought. “I…” she tried. “I’m not feeling well,” she murmured the excuse, a sinking feeling in her stomach. She knew her father had been looking forward to seeing Joseph again, and no matter what he had said before they had got there, she knew she was ruining it, but she couldn’t stay here; not after what had just happened.

Her father’s brows furrowed in concern, but he stood. Relief flooded part of her, the fact that he hadn’t taken back his word, meaning much more than he probably thought. “I’m sorry,” she told him, before repeating the same to Joseph and Charlotte.

She could see they were disappointed, but they didn’t say anything as her father stood. Together, her father and she cleared their dishes, despite Charlotte’s wishes for them to leave them. They all made their way to the door to say goodnight, Jacob lingering away from the family, but Anna could still feel his gaze on her and her father, even as they slipped out the door.

They walked in silence to the truck, and it wasn’t until the engine roared to life that she dared to speak. “I’m sorry.” She looked over at him as he shifted the vehicle into reverse.

His violet eyes met her own, strained, but not angry. “It’s okay.”

It wasn’t okay.