Chapter 3
Jonathan
Twelve years old
I sit across the dining table from my brother, Jamison, while eating my meal. Our adoptive father, Richard, sits at the head of the table while our adoptive mother, Vivian, sits to my right.
“How is your schoolwork going, Jamison?” My father asks my brother.
My brother pushes the corn on his plate back and forth with his fork, with zero emotion on his face.
“Very well, father. All A’s. My teachers are providing me with higher-level work now.”
“That’s fantastic,” father says and claps his hands together. “It’s about time I introduce you to some of my colleagues. How lucky we are to have chosen two smart and talented children, right, Vivian? A boy genius and a future baseball star.”
My mother looks up at Richard and smiles as her hand lands on my leg under the table. “Oh yes, I’m so thrilled. Jonathan’s coach told me how well he was doing the other day. He might be a future MLB player. What do you think, Jonathan?” Her hand glides up my thigh, causing my body to stiffen. I sit frozen in my chair as her fingers run towards my inner thigh. “Ya, umm, that would be cool.”
I see my brother’s eyes narrow in on us, but I don’t say anything. I can’t let him know I’m the weak link. He has always been the stronger one of us. He can always hide and control his emotions while I have let mine flow freely. My escape has always been through joking around and laughter.
I’m not laughing inside while my adoptive mother inappropriately rubs her hand on my inner thigh, yet I force a smile on my face and laugh anyway. “Wouldn’t it be cool if I was a famous pitcher?”
“Yes, it would, son. Yes, it would!” Richard replies.
Vivian’s fingers lightly brush closer to my crotch, making me gulp and widen my eyes before scrunching them shut. I count to ten, silently praying she doesn’t take this further. What would my father think if he found out she had been sneaking into my room at night? Where would he send us? The orphanage we grew up in burned down shortly after we were adopted. What if he sent us away somewhere worse? At least here, we had everything else we wanted or needed. I could escape inside myself a little longer, and then we could be free. She loves me; that’s all this is. She can’t help it. Jamison stands up so suddenly that it knocks the table against us and spills our mother’s wine. Her hand jolts off my leg and she stands quickly, dabbing her dress with a napkin.
“Sorry,” my brother says with zero remorse on his face. “I’m feeling a little unwell. I think I will retire to my room for the rest of the evening.”
“I think that is wise,” my adoptive mother responds coldly.
My father stands up and presses his hand to Jamison’s forehead. “You don’t feel warm, but getting a good night’s rest is probably best. Go on up. I’ll have Deloras clean up this mess.”
My brother nods and spins on his heel before heading upstairs. I excuse myself quickly, before following behind him, but stop short when I hear my parents bickering in the dining room. Jamison is already up the stairs and out of sight when I hear pieces of their conversation.
“He did it on purpose…”
“Get yourself together...”
“...Taking them to The Cellar in three weeks.”
“...Worth so much money now.”
“They are ridiculously handsome…”
“Can you imagine the money?”
I blink in confusion at the last sentence. My parents have loads of money. My father owns multiple large corporations and is extremely well known. He even plans to run for Senate one day. Why would they need more? And what is The Cellar? Afraid I’ll get caught if I stay longer, I go upstairs and into my bedroom. Jamison’s room is directly across the hall from mine, and his door is already closed. I think about checking on him but decide against it. I don’t want to bother him if he really is feeling sick.
After finishing my homework a few hours later, I fall asleep.
The door to my bedroom opens slowly, waking me from my sleep. I peek my eyes open enough to see the time on the clock. It’s 2:00 in the morning. I slam my eyes shut, wishing Jamison was still sharing a room with me like we did the first year we were adopted. That ended the first night Jamison woke up to Vivian in our room, sitting on my bed.
Please don’t be her, I think to myself while holding my breath. She can’t help it, I tell myself. She just loves me too much. Another door opens in the hallway and I hear my brother’s angry voice.
“What are you doing?”
I hear my mother whisper, but I can’t make out what she says. My brother is angry and his voice gets louder. “We had a deal. You are supposed to stay away from him.”
I carefully make my way out of bed and creep towards my door in time to see Vivian's silk nightgown disappear across the hall into my brother’s room.
Does he know what’s been happening? She told me it was just me. I slide down my bedroom wall before planting myself against it on the floor. I wipe my wet eyes with the back of my hands before sending out a silent prayer. One day, we will get out of here and when we do, we won’t ever look back.