Chapter 17:

"Aaron!"

The voice was filled with vicious anger, hints of lunacy braided along. Heavy knuckles slammed against the wooden door countless times, each hit echoing in the room and bouncing across the walls until it jarred Aaron out of his sleep. He blinked tiredly multiple times, gradually returning to reality from the depth of slumber, suddenly aware of the noises around him. The strong thumps intensified in his ears. His heart pounded. When he pulled himself off his rickety bed, he trudged to the door with slightly nervous yet sleepy steps.

He held the brass handle and sighed, turning to look at the clock before proceeding: two in the morning. He'd barely slept an hour. Another knock shook the wooden door as a whole, and Aaron hastened to unlock and open it, although dreading it internally. His sight firstly fell upon his father; he stood at the threshold, eyes narrowed, jaw clenched.

"Where are my cigarettes?" Aaron's father said, his voice thick with disapproval as it seeped through the grit of his teeth. Spit flew out in clusters. The stench of beer punched Aaron's nostrils, and he had to squint and look away, trying hard to contain his bile. Too drunk, he thought. And he knew that his drunk phases were the worst.

"I don't know," Aaron answered with blunt meaning, sighing when he realized that the conversation was far from ending there. Couldn't he just go back to sleep? He heard the tense shifting of position, and it made him aware of how his father was gaining tension, consuming and charging fury until he'd explode in a mass of violence and aggression, all which would fall over Aaron's head.

"What do you mean you don't know? You have to know."

"I don't."

"Stop lying. You stole them, didn't you?"

"What?" Aaron gaped at his father. He couldn't actually think... He closed his eyes and looked away, now fully aware of how things were about to change. "I don't even smoke. Why would I steal them? I have no idea where they are."

His father gestured him forwards, gruff voice oddly calm as he whispered, "Come here."

Aaron balked for a moment, because he knew that the sudden serenity wouldn't last long, that it would burst into a fit of uncontrolled anger at any moment: obscenities, punches, anything horrible. And that was exactly what happened. Soon his father's hand reached out steadily towards Aaron's head, grasping a fistful of his messy hair between his fingers, tightening his grip and tugging at the very roots—right where he knew it pained Aaron a lot.

He dragged Aaron out of the room and into the corridor with only a grip on his hair. Then he adjusted his hand, clenching more strands in his fist. "When I say something, you do it. Understand?"

A terrible, pounding ache formed in Aaron's scalp, the pain suffusing until he could even feel it knock at his skull. He screwed his eyes shut, a desperate attempt to relieve himself from the overwhelming pain, but it wasn't helping—utterly futile in front of the death-trap his hair was caught in. The roots screamed with the excruciating pressure pulling at them relentlessly.

"Leave my hair," Aaron said, whimpering under his breath. "I said, leave my hair!"

The words left his mouth with a loud echo, and it surprised Aaron himself, but it brought no result save for a wet snort from his father. Aaron tried to tug his hand off, but he came to no avail, and in the heat of the moment, he swung his fist up blindly, catching him in the jaw. His father fumbled back. He released Aaron's hair as he fought for balance.

Aaron sighed with relief, although the pain was still resonating all over his scalp. With heavy breaths, he rubbed the top of his head. Suddenly, he wanted to charge at his father. Punch him, maybe. Pull his hair just as hard as he'd done. Make him taste the pain. But all he did instead was take a deep, composing breath and hold his hand to him in a conciliatory gesture.

"Alright. I get it," Aaron said, voice tired. "You want to fight me even though I've done nothing. You can do that, but can we please continue in the morning? I want to sleep. For God's sake, I just want one minute of sleep!"

He hadn't even realized how his voice was gradually loudening until he shouted out the last word. His father didn't say anything, just stared at him through a furious frown, and Aaron took the lack of response as approval, turning towards his room again.

Just when Aaron thought things had settled, a hand clutched his upper arm, sturdy fingers clawing around the flesh until his skin reddened. Aaron accidentally squeaked with shock, his feet barely beneath him as he was forced back towards his father. He tried fighting against him, but his father turned him around, skillfully locking his arm behind his back and rendering him absolutely motionless.

"You punched me, you brat. You punched your father. You think you can put up a fight? I'll show you how a man fights!" he yelled into Aaron's ear from behind, pulling his meager arm further beyond his back until it began to pressurize his shoulder hard. Aaron grunted and stopped even trying to free himself, aware of how each move was paining him even more. His shoulder felt like it needed just a prod to crack and fall off. Raw aches resonated deep in the crevices of the joint. "Now give me my cigarettes!"

"Dad, my shoulder. You're gonna break my shoulder!" Aaron squeezed his eyes shut. It felt like daggers were drilling into his bone, and the rippling pain now reached his shoulder blade. His father didn't stop, laughing like a lunatic instead. "Using your power on your son doesn't make you a man! It makes you a sick bastard!"

Aaron regretted it as soon as it came out of his mouth. He knew he'd messed up quite much when his father let go of his arm abruptly. Silence. Aaron slowly turned to face his father, gulping nervously at the sight; he was seething. The veins on his neck popped out like chords, distinctly visible and frightening.

His father suddenly charged forwards, chuffing like a vicious animal, his hand gripping Aaron's jaw and forcing him to walk back until he hit the door, his mid-back clashing with the handle and pressing against it hard.

"You filthy animal. This is how you thank your father for raising you? For having to deal with your shit all these years? Do you know how better my life would've been without you?" The older man pulled Aaron's head away from the door then slammed it against it again, reveling in the pained gasp he emitted helplessly. Then he slammed his head again. And again.

Aaron's skull almost convulsed with the heavy blows: cracked and radiated with harrowing pain. He saw all black for a moment, blemished by spots of swirling colors, but then he recovered enough to feel the gooey, dense liquid trickling down his temple.

"You know what? That's it. Get out of my house."

Aaron's father dragged him all the way to the front door, opened it, and threw him outside without a second thought. Aaron tumbled down the stair-steps and crumpled to the ground, his body aching all over, soreness overwhelming his entirety. He gathered himself after a minute or so and slowly pulled himself to his feet, wavering slightly with whirling dizziness.

"Get out of here. Out of the yard. I don't want to see you here again. If you ever want to come back, you'll have to beg me on your knees. Do you understand?" And then the door slammed shut with a loud thud, ringing bells in Aaron's ears.

Aaron knew that he was drunk, that he'd eventually let him in again, but right then didn't look like the best time to try. Aaron didn't even want to go back with his father still so aggressive, so he decided he'd walk around a little, calm down and rest away from that monster.

He trudged towards the gates of the yard with slow, exhausted steps, then held one bar to support himself, squinting as remnants of the pain flashed through his bones and head. It took him a minute to be able to let go of the bar and maintain himself balanced, but when he did, he just stood there with an aching heart. His throat constricted around a sob, around a loud cry of grief, and his chest tightened, because even with how far he hated that asshole, he was heartbroken—heartbroken at how his own father could do that to him, at how he considered him a disgrace.

Aaron gripped the bridge of his nose with a thumb and index finger, a desperate attempt to keep himself gathered and his emotions tame. And he cursed himself for it. For being emotional, for failing to control his feelings correctly.

He walked out of the yard and strolled down the empty road, the blazing stars the only illumination midst the darkness set around him. Faint wind blew against him, stroking his face, ruffling his hair. Nice feeling. There was a soft buzz of crickets in the background, intertwined with the rustling of leaves and the sound of his feet mincing the gravel beneath him. With each step he took further away from his house, the tension in his body slowly seemed to melt down to the ground and mix with the gravel, and it felt like he was stepping on his misery and walking away. It eased him a little.

The crunch of Aaron's feet grew louder, overlapping the other noises. He was still walking with the same pace, yet for some reason it had loudened, added up, and he found it slightly confusing. He only walked a couple of steps forwards before he decided to stop, but the crunching sound could still be heard, nearing and loudening with each passing second, even when he physically made sure his feet weren't moving.

Shit.

It hit him: the realization that someone was walking up to him. He blanched. His breath caught in his throat. Quickly, he proceeded walking, this time speedier, a wild blood-rush audible through his ear, almost blocking out external noises.

At one point Aaron started running, but to his horror, the intruder did the same, his steps heavy and menacing as they strained to close up the distance between the two. Aaron forgot about the soreness, ignored the pain and hung onto the restless kinetic energy the fear supplied to his legs, running as fast as possible even with the exhaustion, even when the soles of his feet ached with each step.

But then, he came to a faltering halt when the frame of a man appeared before him, as if it had suddenly emerged from the engulfing darkness, its owner stood in a tense stance. Aaron froze for a second, stupefied with fear, every hair on his body standing on end. His legs suddenly felt weak. Way too weak to keep him standing.

"Baby, please don't be scared. We don't want to hurt you, I swear."

Baby.

This was it—the prick that brought Aaron out of his trance and had him making a move to turn and run the other way, but then something hit him again; this man came from the front, but the sound of feet was coming from behind...

An arm slithered from the back and hooked tightly around Aaron's torso, squeezing against his attempts for escape. He kicked, thrashed, and screamed helplessly, every drop of his dwindling energy striving for freedom, but it wasn't working, at least not with the overpowering strength of that single arm trapping him. In his peripheral vision, Aaron caught the glistening edge of a needle. The terror touched every nerve in him. "No. No! Leave me!"

And then it happened; he felt the prick of the sharp tip pierce into the side of his neck, a foreign substance slowly seeping through into his blood. Aaron's body began relaxing against his will, legs buckling beneath him, eyelids fluttering uncontrolledly. He began collapsing down progressively; one knee hit the gravel, then the other, but strong hands kept him from crashing completely. He could faintly sense the motion of scurrying feet and hasty movements, then the last pints of his consciousness leaked out, and everything blackened around his vision, closing up on him in murky oblivion.

Daddy's hands were almost shaking as he held Aaron securely between his arms. His baby was with him now. "Oh God. He- he is such an angel. Baby, you're safe now. The pain is over, forever."

Aaron felt completely dumbfounded. Everything happening, all the humiliation he'd been through, was basically his father's fault. If that sick man hadn't kicked him out in the middle of the night, he wouldn't have gotten kidnapped, he wouldn't have been stuck here on the lap of a psychopath.

"Are you fine, baby?"

Aaron wasn't, but he nodded nonetheless. He hooked his chin over Mommy's shoulder, because he knew she'd be pleased, and stared at the wall, sighing as he thought of how urgently he needed to get out of that place. Before he'd lose his goddamn mind.

Aaron stayed like that for quite a while: doing nothing, just sitting and contemplating how much he'd have to tolerate if he planned to stick to the act. At one point, Mommy turned the TV on and let him watch a childish show about animals, but Aaron wasn't even remotely interested, so all he did instead was think, think, and think.

Aaron lost track of how much time passed, but after a torturously long while, Daddy came in. And he made the situation worse, only adding a sense of fear and tension with his presence. He made his way towards the couch then bent down and brought Aaron to his hip. "Let's go brush your teeth, baby."

Daddy didn't exactly give Aaron a chance to protest, and quickly strode across the living room, maneuvering his way through the corridor until he made it to the bathroom. He walked in and placed Aaron on the white counter, then turned to the sink and fiddled with the paste and brush.

Aaron's fingers laced together nervously as he waited for him to return; he didn't like the idea of being alone with Daddy, fearing he'd somehow mess up and put himself through some punishment. Be obedient, he thought. Don't mess up.

So Aaron didn't; he didn't mess up. Daddy turned back to him with the toothbrush, then gently held the back of his head for stability as he introduced the paste into his mouth, carefully going over all edges and crevices of his teeth. He couldn't help but smile fondly at how cute his teeth were, like little pearls lined in his mouth.

Daddy gestured at the sink, and Aaron understood, leaning towards it and emptying the sudsy contents of his mouth. While he did, Daddy had a gentle yet firm grip on his bicep, as if he were afraid he'd accidentally fall into the sink or off the counter.

When the entire process was done, Daddy gripped Aaron's underarms and pulled him off the counter, lifting him to his hip. "Baby, you look so sleepy," he said. "I think I'll put you to bed early tonight. And guess what? Leo will sleep in the same room this time!"

Daddy's ecstatic face revealed that he'd expected a round of applause or a squeal of happiness from Aaron at the announcement, but he never got any of that. Aaron was partly happy about the news—not because he thought sleep was important midst the chaos he'd been thrown in, but because sleep time was the only time he'd have enough peace to think and contemplate, plan and rest away from everyone.

Aaron was taken back to the living room and set in the playpen with Leo, apparently to play a little before bed time. He nestled his body in the corner and lolled his head back, sighing as he thought of how difficult everything was—there was so much to think about, from having to form a plan and executing it, to the consequences of failure and saving Leo. And to have nothing to do but think about all that was both a bliss and a curse; he needed to think, but it hurt his brain, pained him to mull over how horribly wrong things could go.

So he stayed like that until he felt the heat of Leo's body just against his side, the familiar stare of his eyes boring way past Aaron's closed lids. He imagined his expression before he ever opened his eyes: how Leo would be looking up at him, like all his hope and happiness depended on him.

Aaron finally opened his eyes and looked at Leo, and he saw nothing less than what he'd imagined. Leo smiled when he realized he caught Aaron's attention wordlessly, but then he frowned as he took in the exhausted expression on his face.

"You look tired, Aar."

"I'm fine. I'm just really sleepy," Aaron said. It wasn't new to him, though; back at home, he'd been always tired and sleep-deprived, so that bone-deep weariness, that horrible and persistent longing for rest wasn't foreign. "Like you were, before the nap."

"Then sleep, Aar. Don't want you to be tired." Leo held Aaron's arm and tried pulling him to lean against his shoulder, but Aaron refused to move along. Leo insisted, tugging and prodding him until Aaron gave up to his demand and leant against him, positioning his head on his shoulder, sighing contently when he realized that it was much more comfortable than the bars. "Nighty, nighty."

Aaron felt Leo's hand pat his head, and it almost made him laugh. He found it kinda funny how Leo was trying to act like the big brother, how he was reciprocating the gestures he'd done to him before, reversing the roles. Aaron closed his eyes and allowed himself to rest for a second without disturbance, without waking up to the sound of thumps and frantic shouting.

Mommy passed by the boys, and she hurried over to them when she realized Aaron was about to fall asleep. "No. Don't sleep—"

"Shh, Mommy," Leo said, one finger pressed against his lips. He pointed at Aaron. "Aar wants to sleep."

"No, Leo. You shouldn't let him sleep. He already napped, and if he sleeps now again he won't be able to sleep at night. Just a little and it'll be bed time, I have to wake him."

Mommy reached her hand towards Aaron but Leo quickly swatted it away before she could disturb him. Then, very carefully, he curled his arms around Aaron, making sure that he remained unaffected by the noises, that his head was still placed on his shoulder.

Leo's brows creased with annoyance as he huffed at Mommy. "Aar is tired," he said. "Let him sleep, please. Don't like seeing him tired."

Leo's expression gradually transformed from angry to pleading, like he was genuinely worried about Aaron and all he wanted was for him to rest properly. He watched Aaron for a second, his arms still cradling his head against him, blue eyes wide and imploring as he looked back at Mommy.

Mommy's expression softened suddenly. Smiling, she reached down to peck Leo's head. "It's so nice of you to care about Aaron, love. I'll tell Daddy to put both of you to sleep now. How about that? Deal?"

Leo's eyes skipped back and forth between her and Aaron, then he nodded at her with tentative approval.

Aaron was awake, but he just didn't want to interfere in the conversation, couldn't. He didn't have the energy; his eyes burned with exhaustion, like literal flames were lit inside, charring them. He hadn't even exerted any effort, barely, but it was the mental pressure that caught up with his physical body, bringing aches deep in his bones and between the joints.

  Mommy called for Daddy and Lou, and the two quickly came and carried the boys to the nursery. They tucked them in their cribs, making sure to kiss their foreheads before turning off the lights and leaving the room. Aaron sighed, turning to lay on his side, but then he was distracted when Leo called him quietly.

"Good night, Aar."

"Good night."

Leo fell asleep shortly after. Aaron tried to keep himself awake, but it seemed like the effort was only feeding the fire in his sore eyes, making it expand until it burnt the skin around them to rawness. He tried to focus on forming a plan, but he couldn't, his brain shutting down on its own and refusing to cooperate with the overwhelming exhaustion. Eventually Aaron lost the battle and fell asleep, but he didn't manage to maintain his slumber steadily, occasionally waking up throughout the night then falling back to sleep.

Aaron woke up lastly to the faint rays of light filtering through the curtains. He blinked until his vision cleared completely, then cocked his head towards Leo's crib, frowning when he noticed that he wasn't there. He must've woken before him. He wanted to stretch his legs out, but as soon as he tried, he realized that something felt horrifyingly wrong about them.

He couldn't feel his legs.

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hi! thoughts on the flashback?

tysm for reading/voting/commenting! Every vote and comment honestly makes me so happy ❤️