Chapter 8   Part One

I took a step back and his eyes followed the movement.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” I apologized softly, and for a moment he only watched me with an expression which gave a face to his confusion, before he pushed up into a sitting position.

“What are you doing?”

I didn’t miss the suspicion in his voice nor the narrowing of his eyes as he questioned me and for a split second he glanced at Timmy, before his gaze settled once again on me.

I imagined that this was how the many criminals I’d apprehended felt just before I slapped on the handcuffs—trapped.

“Timmy…I found him in the hallway.” I explained. “I think he was having trouble sleeping so I stayed up with him until he did and brought him back here.”

He glanced once more at his son, this time with a small frown. “I locked the door...I never thought he woulda went and opened it.”

I shrugged. “He’s learning I guess.”

Gone was the suspicion and I found that the expressiveness of his face intrigued me. Reading him was the easiest thing to do and only went to further showcase his innocence.

“Sorry. I keep telling him he’s gotta stay here at night-time. He never used to go anywhere back when he were at home.”

Home… I didn’t know how he could call the piece of barely-standing shack his home, but I smiled to reassure him. “He’s in a new environment. Maybe when he gets used to it, he’ll stay put.”

When he nodded, eyes still planted on my face while offering not a word, I took that as my cue to get out of there and so I bid him goodnight.

“I’ll see you in the morning.” He called out when I reached the door, and with a nod I left.

Lusting after some kid I’d found in the streets. I shook my head. Never in all my life would I have imagined myself in such a position. I was responsible. I was the one who never had any trouble doing the right thing, yet here I was, practically taking advantage of a kid while he slept.

The only problem was; he wasn’t a kid. Lying in the bed across the hall was a man, who, for whatever reason, had my blood boiling and my heart thudding with just a simple look, and despite the very short time that I’d known him, I felt it harder and harder to keep my hand off him.

I wondered if this was how the junkies felt every time they robbed a man just so they could buy their next handful of weed. Or how the gamblers felt just before they bet the last dollar they had in hopes they could win big.

Temptation…addiction. Is that what he was to me now?   

I rubbed a hand over my face and paused at the very top of the staircase. I’d never felt so…invested, in a single person before. Why did it have to be Jason? Why did it have to be someone I had promised to protect? Someone who’d experienced more than his fair share of a shitty life and was looking to me to make it right?

I glanced up when the door to his room creaked open and I was surprised when it was him who came padding out rather than little Timmy. I straightened up immediately and watched him cross the hall warily.

I assumed he would go to the kitchen, maybe for a glass of water...a late night snack even, but he stopped by the railing a few feet away and I watched in confusion as he stood there, his expression pinched with determination and his posture limp with uncertainty.

“Everything alright?” I questioned in the relative darkness of the hallway and for a moment he said nothing, instead continuing to watch me as though he had a lot to say and he didn’t know where to start.

Finally, he took a breath and began. “Not everybody can make it on the street you know.” he explained. I chose to listen, interested to know where this was going. “If you don’t learn quick, then chances are you’ll get killed…or worse.”

The things I’d seen in my line of work attested to the fact that dying was indeed not the worst thing that could happen to a person, and I nodded in agreement—inviting him to go on.

“I aint never been a fool though.” He told me proudly, while he fidgeted with the tail of his shirt. “I learn fast and I’m really good at judging people.” He paused. “Most of the time.”

“That’s good. I’m sure it’s what kept you and Timmy alive out there right?”

He nodded. “Sometimes it’s not easy, but most of the times I can tell about people’s intentions. I can tell when they’re lyin’, or if they wanna hurt me...or if they wanna get with me.” He looked directly into my eyes when he said the last few words and I finally had an idea just what he was getting at and my guilt grew.

 “Look…Jason—” I began, only to be interrupted.

“Sometimes you look at me and I can tell.” He said, then folded his arms before him and regarded me seriously. “You like guys.” He announced simply, yet confidently and in the face of his statement, I saw no point in denying it.

“If you’re worried I’ll try to take advantage of you, or—”

Again he interrupted, lifting his shirt and pointing to one of the few scars that ran across his chest.

“My dad did this with a pair of scissors when he found out about me.” he said and I watched with a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, as he ran a finger over the marred flesh.

“He told everybody I fell, but he was lying. He found out I liked guys and he said he had to teach me a lesson.”

I didn’t know what I could say to that and so I said nothing at all.

He pointed to another scar. This one was smaller than the first, but just as appalling. “He gave me this one too.” He continued. “He was using one of his belts on me and the buckle part got me. He told my mom he wanted to beat the faggot outta me.”

“Jesus.” I breathed and he released the shirt, allowing it to cover his skin once more.

“Does your dad know about you?” he questioned me seriously.

I swallowed. “He knows.”

He nodded, as though he’d expected as much. “Can I see your scars?”

It was those five words that did it for me and it was also at that moment that I came to the conclusion that taking him and his son into my home wasn’t a mistake.

My respect for him grew and I found myself looking on at him with knew eyes. How did you go through everything that he did and still find the drive to be responsible? How did you live like he had and still find a way to keep your determination?

He was someone to admire…maybe even look up to and he didn’t even know it.

I shook my head. “I don’t…My father never.” I took a breath. “He’s always been accepting of me. He’s okay with it.”

The information seemed to surprise him. His brows furrowed as he watched me, then finally he nodded slowly.

There was only silence. During which time, the seconds seemed to tick by at a snail’s pace, then he straightened up and looked away. “I’m glad we’re the same.” He said so quietly, it was almost a whisper. “It means I got one less thing to worry about.”

And just like that, he turned and left me standing there in the dark

……………………………

It wasn’t until I was done preparing breakfast the next morning that I saw him again, but no words were spoken about what had transpired the night before. In fact, when I saw him next, he was entering the kitchen with a crying Timmy trailing after him. Father and son seemed to be engaged in a heated argument and I could only watch with interest as it transpired.

“Yeah daddy, look!” Timmy wailed, big fat tears rolling from his beautiful eyes, right down his plump, rosy cheeks.

“No he’s not and I’m done arguing with you.” Jason told him adamantly, before taking a seat on the stool around the counter. His expression mirrored his frustration, but it wasn’t him I felt sorry for, it was little Timmy, who looked as though he he’d already cried an ocean.

“Bunny durty daddy…pease!”

“No.”

“What’s going on?” I questioned Jason, who, for the first time since he’d entered the kitchen, glanced my way.

“He wants to wash the bunny.”

I glanced down at Timmy again in understanding and upon noticing my interest in the situation, Timmy turned to me, holding Bunny up for me to inspect.

“Bunny durty Micha. Timmy haf keen him.” The tears alone threatened to do me in and I looked at Jason.

“Maybe we could just let him wash—” He cut me a look that told me that it wouldn’t be in my best interest to side with his son and I trailed off, looking at Timmy with deep regret.

“Stop crying Timmy. It’s not dirty and I’m not letting you waste people’s water for no reason.”

I assumed I was the ‘people’ in this situation.

Timmy seemed to give up then, and let his little arms fall. His eyes were red and puffy, his nose running and the tears were falling from his eyes in a seemingly never-ending flow. He looked like a child who had the whole world on his shoulders and he couldn’t bear it any longer as he stood bawling in loud hiccupping breaths.

I was at a loss as I watched him, wanting only to gather him up in my arms and give him whatever he wanted, but it was moments like these that would remind me that Timmy was not my kid and I had no right to go against his father’s wishes.

So we watched him until his entire face was red and the veins were practically standing up in his forehead, before Jason let out a sigh and finally hopped off the stool and bent to pick him up. The crying didn’t stop. Timmy merely buried his face in Jason’s neck and let out his sorrow there.

I took a seat on the couch and watched him rub his son’s back, while swaying side to side.

“Alright, show me where you see the dirt.” He offered and his son pulled Bunny up to show him.

When Jason inspected the stuffed toy he shook his head. “But Timmy, there aint nothin’ there.” He told him gently even though the crying had only grown slightly softer.

“Mmf durty!” came his muffled reply.

“Yeah but Michael washed him for you remember? He’s all clean now see? Look?” and he turned the bunny this way and that for Timmy to inspect.

 He shook his head. “Micha…m…keen Bunny pwopy.”

“But he did wash him properly…didn’t you Michael?”

 I cleared my throat, surprised I was being included in the conversation.

I glanced at Jason’s raised, beseeching brows, then at Timmy’s miserable face and nodded quickly. “Yeah... I did. I washed him properly Timmy. I promise. Bunny is really clean.”

“See?” Jason continued gently “When he gets dirty I’ll make you wash him okay? But he’s clean now.”

Timmy’s hiccupping died slowly as he took a good look at his toy and eventually, the tears were reduced to the occasional trickle as he quietened.

“Bunny Keen now?” came his soft question and Jason and I both nodded.

“He is, I promise.”

And that was that, for Timmy stuck this index and forefingers into his mouth and rested his head on his father’s shoulder without another peep.

I breathed a sigh of relief and Jason walked with him to the stool and sat down, patting his back for good measure.

The silence descended for a good minute, before I held up the plate of bacon. “Breakfast?”

“Please.”

And so began the morning.

………………………………………………………..

                                       AUTHOR' S NOTES

I'VE BEEN BUSY...I'M SORRY.

SINCE IT HAS BEEN SO LONG SINCE THE LAST UPDATE AND EVERYONE'S GOING CRAZY ON ME I DECIDED TO UPLOAD PART ONE OF CHAPTER 8 TO HOLD YOU OVER UNTIL I CAN UPLOAD PART 2 TOMORROW OR SATURDAY. REST ASSURED PART TWO WILL BE POSTED NO LATER THAN SATURDAY SO DON'T WORRY.

IN THE MEANTIME, ENJOY THIS LITTLE BIT AND AS ALWAYS, THANK YOU FOR YOUR NEVER-ENDING SUPPORT <3