Ch.16: Julian
The Lengths They Go To Hurt Me

While the fence was being built, Julian's parents locked him in the basement again.

Julian sat in a sea of darkness and cold for the third time in his life. He leaned his head against the door the entire time, gazing at nothing. Feeling nothing. It was like his chest was hollow, just rotting ribs encasing an empty well. Sometimes he thought this couldn't be real. Thomas wasn't dead and his grave wasn't in the backyard and he wasn't currently shivering on the floorboards. He thought it was a nightmare, and he would wake up soon.

He never did.

He didn't know how much time passed, but it must have been a lot, because at one point he felt like the hunger and thirst were going to kill him. When he tried to move to search for some water or food, he realized that perhaps the exhaustion would kill him first. Still, he scrambled to the shelves of the basement and managed to find biscuits and an old half-empty water bottle.

The water was stale and tasted funny, but it kept him alive until his parents opened the door for him.

Yellow light from the corridor flooded past their figures, pouring into the basement. Julian squinted and turned away. His eyes burnt. Then a hand grabbed his hair, dragging him out of the basement. Julian could barely stand up and walk along; he stumbled behind his dad, dropping back on his knees a few times on his way, as the older man towed him across the yard, past large steel gates, and threw him out.

Julian sat up, blinking and rubbing his eyes to clear his bleary vision.

Then he froze at the sight.

The fence didn't even have posts or bars for him to peek between; it was just obscuring, opaque boards of steel that stood tall and firm around the entire circumference of the house and its yard.

A division constructed for the sole purpose of shutting Julian out.

But he didn't give up. Like some sort of innate instinct, Julian's need to be around Tom's grave made him roll some sturdy logs and branches, which had been sawed off, towards the fence. A tiny boost was all he needed. He rolled them against the steel, hoping to climb up and drop on the other side.

But then his parents noticed, and they hollered and yelled at him as they dashed towards him. He hadn't even managed to use the wood as leverage; his dad shoved him off and took everything away, hiding them in the yard. That wasn't even enough. He made sure nothing was left outside for Julian to use as a boost.

Julian didn't give up.

He dug up rocks and stones and threw them by the fence until they heaped. The pile shifted and rolled under his feet as he stepped on it, and his heart dropped. This wasn't going to work, he realized. He'd need way more stones.

His parents didn't allow him to try once more, though. The second they noticed what he was doing, rage twisted their faces so despicably. Their nostrils flared, lines running deep in their foreheads as they cursed his existence. Nothing new, so Julian just tuned them out. They shoved him off the fence again. He pushed them away, then tried climbing up again-completely ignoring them and their attempts to stop him.

It must have driven his father mad, because the man left and came back with a sickle. He grasped Julian's arm with enough force to break his bones and thrust him to the ground. Then he stood above him, striking his legs and hands with the shaft, over and over again, all while he panted and cursed.

Julian didn't make a sound. Didn't whimper. Didn't cry. Didn't even react. The pain was there, radiating across his whole body, but it was too dull. Too distant. As if his nerves couldn't catch the signals anymore.

"It doesn't hurt," Julian said, looking up at his father.

"Stop trying to climb the fence! Get lost!"

Another blow.

It still didn't hurt.

Julian laughed softly, then his laughter grew louder and louder as he simply ignored the beating and started standing up.

"It doesn't hurt! You beat me so much I can't feel it anymore, hahahaha!"

His father froze, appalled as he watched Julian move towards the gates, trying to figure out a way to get in from there. Useless. They were the same as the rest of the fence, opaque and impossible to climb. Julian tilted his head, and then the wooden shaft of the sickle slammed his shoulder. The area ached, but not enough to elicit a reaction. Julian ignored it.

"Get the hell away from here before I kill you, Julian!"

Julian shrugged. "First you killed Tom and now you want to kill me! What a bunch of murderers! No wonder he hated you!"

That was when his dad started striking him ruthlessly, until Julian dropped to the ground and tried to protect his face. This time his father didn't only use the wooden bar; he cut him with the blade, too-tearing Julian's skin open across his arms and legs. The blood rolled and soaked his clothes. Julian didn't react.

He just wanted to be near Thomas's grave.

"We didn't kill him!" Julian's stepmom shouted with a mad, trembling voice as his father swung the sickle. "He killed himself because of you! He hated you! Not us! Do you hear me? He hated you!"

By the end of it, Julian couldn't stand anymore. He didn't know why. This whole thing wasn't that painful, but every time he tried to stand, his legs would quiver and he'd drop back down. His hands felt weak, too, like they had no grip. They just trembled and tingled.

His parents kicked him, shoving him away from the fence, before finally backing away.

"You killed him, you killed him, you killed him," Julian mumbled, raising his head off the dirt just enough to glare at his parents. "This was all your fault. Not mine. Tom hated you, not me." He dropped back down, his cheek pressed to the soil. He closed his eyes. Scalding tears trickled down his face. "He never hated me."

The world remained black, even after he opened his eyes. His head swam. He frowned, annoyed by the lightheadedness, and then his consciousness collapsed.

The next time he woke up, it was nighttime, and like a programmed machine, he immediately sat up and set to climb up the fence.

Except he found his parents already there, the sickle ready.

"We won't let you," his father said.

Julian almost couldn't believe how far they were going to make sure he couldn't see Thomas's grave.

But really, this wasn't surprising. They had never been humane. They had always been monsters. It was like they existed to torment Julian, like their grand goal in life was to make sure Julian could never know happiness.

"You're psychopaths," Julian said.

• • •

This went on for a few days. Julian kept trying to make it to Thomas's grave, but his parents wouldn't let him. They spent their entire time outside-day and night-guarding the fence and watching Julian's every breath. Every movement. The second he tried to step closer, they would swing the sickle and cut open a few more gashes.

Slowly, the thirst, hunger, and exhaustion bore down heavy on Julian's shoulders. He could hardly move anymore, hardly even try to approach the fence. His throat ached every time he swallowed like it was made of sandpaper. His stomach burnt as if it had caught fire.

Julian knew he would die at some point if he stayed here.

So he left.

He used up whatever energy he still had and dragged himself downhill until he reached levelled ground, and from there he trudged towards the town.

The sky was black and starless. No store was open. Julian walked towards a black Jeep parked by the sidewalk, and as he passed by, he noticed a few things in the backseat. He stopped and reversed. He peeked in through the glass; there were two black suitcases in there, and beside them, a transparent bag filled with some sweets and a water bottle.

Julian touched the window, and his bloodied hands tainted the pane. He didn't care. Food, water-that was all he wanted. Turning his head, he caught sight of someone in the front seat. A man with dark hair, about in his mid- or late-twenties perhaps. He was talking furiously on the phone.

Julian tapped the front window, leaving a few spots of blood.

The man in the car snapped his head in Julian's direction, and his eyes widened.

"Give me the food," Julian said.

The man's brows slanted into a frown.

"Get lost!"

Julian sighed. He turned, picked a rock off the edge of the pavement, then chucked it at the window. His throw was too weak, so it barely cracked the glass. The man in the car was shouting, his voice muffled. He swung his door open and stepped out, dressed in all black.

"What the hell are you..." He froze and stared at the blood on his car. "You...Hey! What the hell!"

Julian had already climbed into the car through the driver's seat, and he squeezed into the backseat, too delirious to care. Too cold to care. Too heartbroken. Just as he reached for the water, the man grabbed his ankle and yanked, forcing him back.

"Idiot!" the man shouted, then his voice faltered. "Holy shit."

Julian wasn't sure what the problem was until he glanced inside the car again. He had splattered his blood all over the seats, the wheel, and even the suitcases in the back.

"My bad," Julian said.

A phone rang, and the sound was too disorienting, too harsh on Julian's ears. He squeezed his eyes shut, raising his shoulder to hide his ear.

"No, Sasha, I'm still there," the man said after picking up the call. "I just dropped off Valentino. Yeah, he got the first ritual done. Yes, of course I took that from him, don't worry. I have a bigger problem right now. My car looks like a crime scene and my window's cracked. Some psycho did that."

The man paused to glance at Julian, who had already snared the food and was munching on it while sitting against the car.

"I can't tell what's wrong with him. No, he's a kid. Fifteen or sixteen at most. And it looks like he's got a few loose screws. What should I do now?"

Julian finished the chocolate bar in his hand, then, drunk on the warm, delightful feeling of a stomach that wasn't eating itself, he turned and casually climbed back into the car, half expecting the man to drag him out. But he didn't. Julian made it to the backseat and looked for more food.

The car door was slammed shut.

Humming thoughtfully, Julian turned to look at the driver's seat. The man had gotten in, and he twisted his torso to watch Julian. Julian ate his other chocolate bar while blinking emptily back at him.

"What happened to you?" the man asked.

Julian shrugged.

"Where are you parents?"

"I don't have parents," Julian said. "I don't have anyone."

"You hear that? His voice?" The man held the phone back up to his ear. "He sounds dead. But fine. Send someone to pick us up. I can't drive around with this thing anymore."

"Um, where to?" Julian asked, relaxing back in his seat. Not that he felt safe or happy. He was relaxing unwillingly, his body was. Or shutting down... Yeah, that was it. Julian wanted to keep his eyes open, but he couldn't. His vision blackened around the edges at first, and then the darkness extended to the center, and Julian sucked in a breath.

It's okay, he thought. Just a few days and I'll come back.

• • •

When Julian woke up again, he was being dragged by the upper-arm towards an unfamiliar house in an unfamiliar, desolate area that was bathed in soft, daybreak sunlight. He wondered why everybody chose to drag him like that, why no one could ever treat him like he was a human being.

The man hauled him into the house, then threw him on his knees in front of a tall woman with dark hair and unforgiving, siren eyes.

"Here, Sasha," the man said.

Julian gazed up at Sasha, blinking slowly and tiredly. "Hey," he mumbled, collapsing to the floor again. The carpet was a little too rough for his liking. "Do you... Do you know what it means to hate the people that you love?"

Heels clicked, and then the woman crouched by his side, inspecting his face.

"No," she said. "But this might be a good opportunity to replace that brat Valentino."

• • •

Thank you so much for reading/voting/commenting! It means the world to me! ❤️ unedited chapter btw.

#POV: You offered Julian to catch him when he throws himself off a cliff/rooftop