Chapter 12
CHARLIE
Letting out a groan, I roll over and stretch my body out, finding Jace’s side of the bed empty and cool to the touch. The stiffness in my muscles tells me I’ve been asleep for at least a couple of hours and I sigh, hoping he at least got some sleep before giving up.
Reaching out, my hand skims the nightstand to grab my phone and confirm the time, but I frown when I don’t feel it. Groaning, I lean over the side of the bed to see if I somehow knocked it off in my sleep, but I don’t see it anywhere.
Huh, weird.
The telltale sound of a rhythmic beat thumping through the closed bedroom door gives me an indication of what’s waiting for me when I get up.
On more than one occasion, I’ve found Jace somewhere in the house, listening to music at an almost deafening volume whilst frantically cleaning.
How the neighbours haven’t put in a noise complaint yet is beyond me.
Dragging myself out of bed, I head to the bathroom to piss and brush my teeth before I go find Jace and try to convince him that the house is perfectly clean as is.
Maybe I should try and convince him to go for a run this morning – afternoon? – to burn off some of that excess energy. It’s something one of his doctors recommended a few years ago and I like to go with him; it keeps me fit and it’s time spent together.
Scratching an itch on my bare chest, I follow the sound of the music until I stop dead in my tracks, my eyes taking in the state of the kitchen.
Were we robbed?
Fruit is scattered on the floor, one of our mugs from earlier is broken and discarded on the sink. Several of our appliances have also been ripped from the wall and overturned on the countertop.
The table is on its side and the fridge has been pulled out, the door open and the milk lying on the floor; its lid popped and liquid pouring out onto the tiles.
What the actual fuck?
Hearing a curse from the other end of the house, I head in the direction of the living room to find it in a similar state as the kitchen.
The pillows that are normally on the couch are on the floor, the cushions ripped out and thrown aside. One of the lounges is on its side and every inch of the floor is covered with what looks like every DVD we own and their covers.
I can’t even take a step into the room without stepping on something.
And there, behind the entertainment unit, squished between the wood and wall, is Jace as he tries to push it away from the wall.
My eyes widen as I spot the TV topple and I race over to it, ignoring the sound of discs crunching under my feet to catch it before it calls and the screen shatters.
“Uh, Jace? What’s going on?” I ask tentatively. I’m thrown back six years to the first time I asked him that exact question but unlike back then, I’m not exactly clueless. I have a pretty good idea of what’s going on, but I just need to know where his head is at.
Just like then, he doesn’t respond, caught in his own mind as he folds in half, contorting his body to reach for what, I have no idea.
“Jace?” I call out louder, gaining his attention. He straightens, smiling at me but I can see it’s forced.
“Charlie! You’re awake!” he exclaims, his eyes shifting as he looks around the room.
“Alexa, stop music,” I command, not able to do it myself as I push the TV back into it’s position. I half expect it not to work given the volume of the music, but luckily there’s a break in the song quiet enough that the command goes through and the immediate silence is almost shocking to my ears.
“What? No! Alexa, play music!” he shouts, his hands shaking as his eyes dart left and right in a panic and I immediately agree to leave it on.
With his attention somewhat on me, I repeat my earlier question. “Jace, what’s going on?”
“I’m looking for bugs!” he whisper shouts, and I step closer, straining to hear him over the music, my head pounding in time with the beat.
“Bugs? What-” My eyes look around in confusion, trying to see what he sees, but I can’t see anything other than the upheaval of the loungeroom. “This is kinda overkill for a cockroach or spider, don’t you think?”
“What? No. Bugs,” he emphasises the word, his eyes widening and his head tilting to the side, trying to convey a message that just isn’t coming across.
“I don’t understand. Help me understand, Jace.” I take another step closer, kicking the DVDs out of the way to create a path to him.
“Shh!” he shouts, his arm reaching out to grab my shoulders and shake my body. “They’re listening!” Swallowing the lump in my throat, I carefully extract myself from his grip, taking his hands in mine as I try to keep his focus on me.
“Who’s listening? Jace, talk to me?”
“I can’t. They’ll hear. I need to find them. They’re around here somewhere!”
“Find what?”
“The bugs!”
“You’re not making sense. Jace, please help me understand. I want to understand.”
“They’re listening,” he mutters, his eyes refusing to stay focused on me. Instead, they flit around the room looking from one object to the other.
“Who is listening?” I shout to be heard over the music, my frustration and concern building with every second I’m unable to get through to him, but I force myself to stay calm.
“Your parents!”
I rear back. “Wait,” I say, shaking my head in confusion as I finally piece together some of what’s currently going through his head. “Is this about the joke Dad made?”
“Joke? That’s just what they want you to think but no, no, no, no. It’s real. They’re listening!”
“Jace,” I say cautiously. I can’t outright refute his claims, the last time I tried that he was convinced I thought he was crazy, and it just made things a hundred times worse. “I’m sure they didn’t mean it like that.”
“Yes. They. Did. That’s how they always know. They always call when we’re talking about them because they’re listening. They know.”
“Please,” I beg, my voice cracking slightly.
Needing to know how far into this he is, I test the waters asking, “If they’re listening, why aren’t they calling right now?
” I’m hoping the question is enough to get the rational side of his mind to engage and we both pause, listening for the sound of a ringing phone.
Not going to lie, if one of them calls right now, I might shit my pants. It’d be the worst timing in the world, and I think even I would have trouble believing my words.
When the only noise that continues to blare through the house is the music, I look at him pointedly, but he just scoffs, looking at me as though that proves his point not mine. “Obviously, they wouldn’t call right now when I’m on to them. That’d give it away.”
He returns to his search, and I decide to try changing tactics.
Clearly appealing to his logical side isn’t going to work, but in the past if something in particular was triggering an episode like this, sometimes removing it from his sight has allowed him to calm down enough that I can get through to him.
It's not foolproof, but it's worth a shot.
“Let’s go to the park for a run,” I suggest, talking over the music.
“I can’t leave now!” he hisses, throwing his hands in the air. “I have to find them, Charlie.”
"I know,” my voice trails off and I close the distance between us so he can hear me whilst I keep my voice quiet enough that it couldn’t be heard over the music by anyone ‘listening’.
“But I want to help, and I can’t do that if I don’t know what I’m looking for.
If we can’t talk here…then let’s go to the park where no one is listening.
” He stops, contemplating my offer and I hold my breath, internally crossing my fingers he goes for it.
“What if they figure out that’s why we’re going?”
“They won’t. We go to the park for a run all the time together, they won’t think anything of it.”
“True,” he muses, but I can see the doubt and worry still in his eyes as they go back to looking for hiding places.
“Two eyes are better than one. If I know what I’m looking for, I can help you,” I promise and I mean it. If this doesn’t work, I’ll help him turn this house upside down if that’s what he needs to feel safe again.
“Okay,” he finally agrees, and I let out a relieved breath.
My hand twitches with the need to pull him in for a hug but before I can, he’s already halfway across the house, heading to his old bedroom to get dressed.
Sighing, I do the same, grabbing my bag that I take with us whenever we go for a run. Stopping in the kitchen, I refill the water bottle and grab a few snacks before spotting my phone on the counter.
I quickly turn the flashlight off and shove it in my pocket then head to the bathroom.
I’m hoping that just getting him away from the house for awhile will be enough to allow him to calm down, but just in case, I grab the emergency meds his doctor prescribed for these situations before making my way to the front door.