Chapter 38 #4
Halfway through the container, Nicholas finally stands.
He paced the room, as if unaffected by the unease or the prolonged silence.
“Ya know… when your dad told me you wanted to pursue a career in journalism, I thought to myself, great! A wonderful way to bond with my nephew. I suspected we could make a great team one day.” His stride stops now that he’s pointing at me.
“You could uncover essential information with your skill set. Finding all the dirty little secrets from our illustrious town officials. We’d have the blueprints for the inner workings of the city, thanks to you! While I continue doing what I do best.”
The most recent bite of crab rangoon became lodged in my throat. I choke it down, causing an unintentional coughing fit. When I’m finally able to speak, I ask the most obvious question, “What exactly do you do best?”
He levels me with a stare that resembles a bottomless pit of ash. “I think you have a pretty good idea about what I do, dear boy. You’ve been watching me for quite some time. Let’s not play these games.”
I extend the takeout container to the disconnected family member before me, hoping to ease the tension in the room. “Noodles?”
His thick eyebrow quirks up just ahead of a sickening grin, which gradually spreads across his face. “I’ll pass. Too sweet.”
I shrug and proceed to shovel more of the brown long noodles into my mouth.
“Have you been keeping a record of my whereabouts?”
I shrug again, keeping my eyes downcast. Although, I can just make out his arms crossing over his chest in conjunction with a long audible sigh. I don’t think he’s going to let this go, as I originally hoped.
He moves closer to me. “Does your little boyfriend know what you’ve been up to?”
Something switches in me when he brings Eamon into this.
Clearly, he knows what buttons to push. I try to stand, only to be met with a firm hand that pushes me down into my chair.
Immediately, the chair moves back with force.
He’s in front of me with his foot on the seat between my legs.
Casually he leans toward me, an arm atop his bent knee.
“Let me make myself… crystal clear. I haven’t worked as hard and as long as I have, for all of this to go belly up because of my bastard brother’s, faggot son has grown a conscious! ”
Not the first time I've heard those names. It doesn’t faze me, but what’s more unsettling is how his words are dripping with malice.
When I face something challenging, I try to put myself in a happy place.
I imagine Eamon. Our first kiss. How his handsome face looks so at peace, in the morning light. How perfectly our hands fit together.
I reach for the phone in my pocket. My uncle simply hovers above me, watching, waiting, most likely thinking I’m about to give him what he wants.
I have no intention of handing over a single thing.
Instead, I connect to the speakers in my apartment, because I’m a passive aggressive little shit.
I opened up my current playlist, choosing the most fitting song for the occasion, and selected ‘repeat.’ These were songs I picked to pass the time, when I was keeping an eye on my dear old uncle.
Nine Inch Nails – “Terrible Lie,” fills the apartment with industrial sounds as my uncle’s once deadpan stare shifts to something darker.
A long irritable sound escapes him ahead of speaking, “Suit yourself.” He leans farther into my space.
His head came parallel with mine, whispering into my ear as though we weren't the only two in the room. “This would have been a lot simpler if you died like you were supposed to. If I just handled things myself, the bomb would have taken you both. Consider this time you’ve had my gift to you.” His words are like molasses, heavy… thick… dark.
Everything moves even more slowly. The words, “terrible lie!” echo off the walls, and I wonder whether this is the song’s first go round or if it’s already repeated.
I’m unable to react, accordingly; his cold, boney fingers grip my jaw.
Anchored in place, I suck in and spit, landing a loogie on its mark.
Unruffled, he uses his cuff to wipe his face. “Tut Tut,” he lectures. Pressing firmly into my cheeks, he causes my mouth to painfully come ajar. With subtle movements, he retrieves a small item from his coat pocket, using his free hand.
Not waiting to see what’s in his hand, I attempt to move away only to be pinned back in place by his shoe, savagely pressing against my groin. I’m completely at his mercy.
“Does Cindel know?”
Now the object comes into focus. A syringe hovers just above me, while his fingers relentlessly dig into my cheeks. My words are garbled but they fall on deaf ears, switching to an urgent throaty, “No!”
His iron eyes narrow. In the blink of an eye, the needle travels toward me, piercing my tongue.
The stabbing pain is nothing compared to the burn of whatever he just injected me with.
Lifting my foot, I kick back from the table, causing the chair to tip over.
My world tilts on its axis. What… what’d he do to me? !
“Why are you doing this to me?” At this point, I didn’t know if I was saying the words or if it was a part of the song.
My head pulsed to the rhythm and my mouth felt dry.
I pushed up from the floor, attempting to stand.
My legs refuse to cooperate, feeling as though my bones have turned to smelted wax.
My eyes ricochet around the room until I find him, wiping the syringe off on a handkerchief and gingerly placing the vial next to me on the floor.
Paralyzed, I watch from the ground as he removes the memory card from my phone, pushing it into his pocket, before tossing the phone next to me.
I know the microSD card he’s taking has nothing significant on it, but he doesn’t.
“Terrible lie!” Reverberates off the walls of my home. My heinous uncle crouches down beside me, I can’t move a muscle. “I will strip my bastardo brother of every shred of happiness he’s ever known... then I will take back what’s rightfully mine.”
I sense the vibrations as he moves farther away from me, following the culminating “click” of the apartment door closing. My face tingles and my vision swims. These tears aren’t for me.
I’m back in our childhood home. I feel the room shake followed by the deafening sound of an explosion.
I ran to the playroom just as fast as my little legs would carry me.
No longer am I the one laid out on the floor.
I can just make out her small, fragile body lying lifeless in the lingering haze.
I thought I lost her. My sister. I can’t do this again.
I never want her to experience what I saw.
She… she’ll find me. Just like this. Our parents raced past me.
“Please be alive.” I begged. Clouds surrounded me.
No longer could I see straight. I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping to escape this fever dream. Incapacitated, I focus on my breathing.
Despite my shut lids, lights shoot across my vision. Moving in sync with the far-off rhythm… as if dancing. It’s proving difficult to take in a full breath.
I think of Cindel, moving across the starry emptiness, merrily spinning just like she did when we were young. “I need someone to hold onto…” she stops and all the lights wink out.