Chapter 21:

Leo's eyes weren't sad. They were wild.

Blue color dark and shadowy like a stormy sea at midnight, gold flecks that resembled golden ingots long dead beneath the raging war. Aaron didn't think he'd ever point out the difference in the state of someone's eyes so clearly until now.

"Leo, you're not bad. I promise. You're the best." Aaron was panicking, and he couldn't deny it, but he wanted to keep the situation under control. His mind was too wooly with shock to even bring up a decent reason for Leo's outburst and it didn't even cross his mind at that point. All that constantly echoed in his brain was that he needed to calm him down. "Leo, look at me. I'm not lying. You're not bad. You're great. I swear. Believe me."

"No, Aar, no!" Leo screamed this time, each word sharp-edged and filled with frustration. Suddenly, he grasped a thick tuft of his hair and tugged down, pulling onto the roots and heedless of how his own knuckles whitened with the intensity of the grip. Aaron felt an ache form in his own scalp as he watched Leo do that to himself, and he cringed because he knew how terrible that pain was. "You don't know, Aar. You don't know anything. I'm bad."

Aaron couldn't sit there watching Leo tear his hair out of his scalp. Just as he made a move closer towards Leo's side, he burst out into tears: full-on sobbing, loud cries of ambiguous grief that made Aaron's chest tighten. Even as Aaron scrambled towards Leo's end, a part of him wanted to turn away and block out the noises. Crying usually made his head hurt and now it was stinging his heart too.

At that second, the door flung open and the three captors hastened inside, all hurrying towards Leo's crib with their eyes wild and worried. Daddy was the first to make a move and he quickly bent over the railing to pick Leo up.

Leo fought against Daddy at first, jerking and squirming away, screeching until his throat tore apart each time he touched him. Daddy allowed him to fight until he waned, gradual exhaustion overwhelming his need to cry. Eventually, Leo lost the battle and lost his breath and let Daddy pick him up, one hand clenching Daddy's sweater tightly in his fist.

"I-I'm bad."

"No, you're not, baby. You're the best little boy ever. Daddy's here, baby, always," Daddy whispered each word directly into his ear, and Leo's chest heaved slower as he listened, almost like the captor's voice had a calming effect on him.

The sobs died down a little, save for occasional sniffles and audible shaky breaths, but then Leo suddenly mumbled bad bad bad to himself and started crying all over again, whimpers gradually growing in volume until they shook the walls around him.

"Baby, Daddy loves you so much. You're a good boy. Good, good boy." Daddy sighed when Leo continued crying, barely even listening to him over the sounds he was emitting. "I'm taking him out. Aaron needs to sleep."

And so Daddy left, followed by Mommy. Aaron's shoulders sagged from the tense position they'd stiffened to, and he sat there, his mouth slightly agape and his eyes wide. Lou turned to him, and taking in the shocked trance, he was sure he wouldn't be able to sleep easily. "Baby, I'm so sorry you had to watch this. Are you fine, love?"

Aaron stayed silent for a second, frozen and completely unresponsive. "Did you hear what he said? Bad. Bad. Bad. He's traumatized," he said, his eyes wandering beyond Lou to stare at the door. "Why does he keep calling himself bad?"

Lou gave him a sad look, but Aaron inferred nothing from it. He wouldn't tell Lou but he still suspected Daddy. Even if it sounded far and impossible, something in his gut told him that maybe that psychopath had constantly called Leo 'bad' before he'd learnt to behave correctly, and it had been burnt somewhere deep in his subconsciousness. But if it were from him, why would Leo even allow him to hold him?

"Look, baby. I think it's better if you just never talk to him about his scars again. I know you don't mean to hurt him, baby, but he's really sensitive when it comes to that." Lou crouched down before the crib and looked straight into Aaron's eyes through the wooden bars separating them. "Go to sleep now."

Lou reached his hands to Aaron and tried gently pushing his shoulders back, but his baby didn't move along, instead remaining rigid in his place. Lou felt the way his eyes were directed at him but not really at him. Unfocused. So he sighed and told Aaron, "Do you wanna go check on him?"

Aaron snapped back from his trance and looked at Lou. But then his face dropped, the hope suddenly transforming into dread. "He probably hates me now. I mean, I did that to him. I reminded him of the scars. He probably doesn't wanna see me." So Aaron was also a failure at being a big brother. Even that.

"No, baby. He  doesn't hate you. Trust me, he loves you so much. You'll see: if he's still awake he'll be happy to see you." Lou picked Aaron up and walked out, heading towards Mommy and Daddy's bedroom.

There, Leo was sprawled on the king-sized bed on his side just by the edge with his eyes closed. Mommy was crouched beside him, and Daddy stood at the other end of the bed, both watching him. Mommy turned to Lou. Her lips twitched in the semblance of a halfhearted smile. "He calmed down," she said. "Poor baby had a nightmare."

"That's why he didn't wanna nap or go to bed," Aaron said, his heart clenching. "He was scared of having a nightmare."

"Lou, take Aaron back. Leo's fine now—"

"Aar?" Leo's eyes fluttered slowly, then they focused on Aaron through blurry sleepiness. He smiled slightly, a small tired movement of his muscles, but it relieved Aaron a little. "Aar."

Lou put Aaron down on the floor just by the side of the bed.

Aaron clutched the edge of the mattress then lowered his head until his chin was resting against the back of his hands, eyes filled with shame. The process of realizing the damage he'd inflicted was much worse than the guilt itself. Maybe even worse than the fact that Leo didn't even look pissed at him right now.

Aaron found himself relating Leo to a younger version of himself. He reminded him of himself back in his childhood, possibly the most miserable period of his life. That was when he still had hope in his father, when he yearned for his love. When he cried himself to sleep after every slap and shove, small gestures that became more painful over time. More violent. Step by step. Little cuts then gushing wounds. Fleeting pain then timeless trauma.

Aaron saw an innocent little kid in Leo trapped in a situation with zero control just like he'd been trapped in a system called life. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."

Leo smiled again, this time enough for his cheeks to lift along. "Best brother ever, Aar. Don't say sorry."

Aaron found it amusing how Leo always expressed his gratitude towards others' presence. Perhaps because he knew what it felt like to be surrounded with violent, dangerous people. The way Leo looked at him, it directly reminded Aaron of countless similar instances—all which involved real children back at his normal life. Generally, Aaron was good with kids, and they had given him those trusting, depending looks before, and they were copies of Leo's.

Aaron smiled back. "Next time, tell me whatever makes you sad. Okay? I'll always help you. Now go to sleep." He turned toward Lou again, but Leo gripped his wrist and tugged.

"Stay, Aar?" Leo said.

Aaron looked at him, then back at Lou, as if for guidance on how to respond.

"Do you wanna stay beside your brother, baby?" Lou asked, smiling when his baby nodded. He picked him up and placed him on the middle of the bed then watched as Leo rolled from his spot closer to Aaron, clinging to him.

Leo looked up at Aaron, lips curling into a sleepy smile, lashes fanning slowly over his cheekbones. Aaron found something odd: how the storm in his eyes had been powerful in its presence, yet quick in its disappearance. It might have calmed down relatively quick, but Aaron was sure it hadn't dissipated into thin air, couldn't have—which kept him slightly worried about a sudden return. He smiled back at Leo anyway and allowed him to snuggle up closer against him.

Daddy joined the boys and lay down beside Leo. Mommy climbed onto the bed, and at that Aaron left everything and just poured all his focus on praying that she'd go to the other side of the bed, away from him. Alas, she sprawled beside him, and like a programmed machine, her lips planted a delicate kiss to the back of his head.

Aaron closed his eyes, gasping inaudibly when Mommy's arm slithered around his torso, capturing him like trap. He stiffened. A few passing thoughts (that included some punches and a lot of thrashing) almost wooed him to ruin the act he'd put up, but he fought them. To his own surprise, he managed to push the thoughts to the back of his mind where they belonged, away from his priorities that involved acting and a lot, a lot of patience.

Mommy's hand glided up to Aaron's hair, her fingers twirling black strands around. She lowered her face to his head and brought the strand in her hand closer to her face, inhaling longingly his scent. A smile eased to her lips at the comforting presence of her baby beside her, close to her safety. She missed him. Mommy felt like Lou and Daddy had some superiority to her when it came to spending time with the boys. Aaron specifically. Unfair, she thought. But then she reminded herself that it was no one's fault. Maybe when Aaron would begin to adapt, he'd want her more.

She leant forward again, this time pressing a soft kiss to the back of his shoulder.

Can you stop kissing me for just one second, you creep? Aaron thought. For him, Mommy had the creepiest aura of the three; she didn't appear as aggressive as Daddy, but she had a similar effect even with the opposing behavior. Goosebumps flared along the lengths of his arms the moment she kissed him, and her slow gentle breaths against his neck felt like blows of icy wind ramming against his muscles like bricks. Her arm around his torso felt like a constriction around his entire life.

And Mommy didn't let go. "Good night, baby," she whispered into his ear. Her voice was slow, each word stretching softly as it crept to his ear. Such a calm tone that it had each hair on Aaron's body standing straight up.  "Mommy loves you so much."

That's how Aaron had to lie silently: with Mommy's heat radiating against his back from one side, and Leo's hot breath creeping forward from the other. He didn't mind Leo. That boy was helpless and defenseless, possibly with the mindset of an infant at age fifteen, so he didn't blame him for acting like one and clinging to him. But Mommy—she bothered him. A lot. He could barely even move from her arm. He found his breath hitching slightly, but he carefully let his lungs deflate rather than hold the air in, silently reminding himself that he couldn't let her feel his discomfort. Acting was more important.

It took very long for Aaron to sleep. Which made sense, considering he was surrounded by psychopaths. It was when his energy bar screamed with overwhelming drought, when his eyes burnt like flaming fires, that his own body couldn't even tolerate the effort and fell into sleep.

And he slept for hours, until the very first rays from dawn spilled faint luminance into the room through the thin fabric of the curtain veiling the window. The first thing Aaron realized was that Daddy had gone, and Mommy and Leo were still asleep, both squeezing him between and rendering him motionless. Mommy's arm was still around his torso, and maybe it wasn't to display affection, he suddenly realized. Maybe she'd hugged him like that to make sure he wouldn't try to slip away.

Aaron tried to stretch, but he couldn't with the constrictions from both sides. He huffed when he realized how badly he wanted to, how tired his muscles were after sleeping in a tight space—or maybe it wasn't about space, but about the amount of tense discomfort they'd gathered from the idea of being so dangerously close to a captor.

"Baby?" Lou stood at the threshold, watching Aaron try to move. "Do you wanna get out?"

No shit, Aaron thought.

Aaron's shoulders slumped defeatedly after the helpless struggles. He nodded at Lou. Then he waited as Lou tiptoed closer, careful not to wake Leo up. Lou unwrapped Mommy's hand from around Aaron's waist, then gently moved Leo aside before gripping Aaron's underarms and raising him to straddle his hip.

Mommy roused at the movements, frowning as she patted the space beside her for Aaron, but she soon realized that Lou was holding him. Her frown sharpened instead of smoothening. Frustration. Why was he taking him away from her?

"He's a little crammed here," Lou said before Mommy could even speak. "Little baby couldn't even stretch."

Mommy opened her mouth to protest, but she closed it again. Lou wanted Aaron's welfare too. "It's okay, take him."

So Lou took him to his room, and it was Aaron's first time seeing it. It was artsy; the walls were a creamy beige sheet, the color of the swirly and foamy surface of vanilla lattes. A couple of his own paintings hung high up on the walls. There was a large curtained window in the middle of one wall, and just beneath it was a wooden table, with scattered papers and pencils and art-sets strewn messily on top of it. He had a recliner chair in front of it too. It looked pretty comfy—Aaron kinda wanted to sit on it.

But Lou put Aaron on the bed and watched as he stretched his arms in front of him slightly yet comfortably. His eyes squinted and his lips curled into a content smile as he satisfied the gruesome need, and he ended it with a blissful sigh.

"Better, isn't it?" Lou said, ruffling Aaron's messy morning hair. He wanted to do something useful while Aaron would enjoy some more sleep, but the comfort of the bed calling him was far too wooing to ignore, and he couldn't help but plop himself on the edge. There was enough space for both, and he made sure that he didn't bother Aaron with his presence. He buried his face into the pillow for a second then turned to Aaron again with a smile. "I wouldn't say no if I could just sleep for the rest of the day."

"I'd do it of for the rest of my life." Aaron pushed the side of his head further into the pillow, sighing. He wanted not to enjoy that, especially when he was held captive, but the rare opportunity to sleep on a bed and not a crib was kinda refreshing. He hadn't felt the weight of the privilege before when Mommy had been sticking to him, and now it suddenly clicked in that this was the closest he'd gotten to doing something normal. 

For a moment, Aaron stayed silent, then thoughts glided to the surface of his mind, sputtering helplessly at the tip of his tongue for freedom.

"Sometimes I like dreaming," Aaron mumbled absently. "But sometimes I hate it. I mean—" He stopped. The realization hit him: he was ranting to a captor. To a psychopath. And then came the self-chiding over the fact that he'd allowed himself to be comfortable enough to speak his mind in front of him.

Lou frowned, still eager to listen to his baby's thoughts. "Go on, baby. I want to hear."

"No. Nothing. I wasn't saying anything. Nothing important."

"Everything you say's important to me." Lou smiled with an encouraging nod, but Aaron just stared back emotionlessly. That look again, Lou thought. That look that meant his little baby wasn't used to someone willingly wanting to listen to his thoughts that tangled together with rusty suppression in his head. That look that meant Aaron was only used to keeping everything to himself: from his thoughts to his emotions—possibly the factor that brought in his reserved attitude and what Daddy liked to call 'destructive' habits of restraining his feelings. "I'm listening to you, baby. And trust me, it's never too early for tickle torture, so go on."

Aaron hesitated for an extra moment, but a final pressing nod from Lou had him doling the remnants of his thoughts:

"I just meant that sometimes I like dreams, because they let you feel something nice for a little. And that's nice." Aaron's eyes were fixed to the ceiling, and as he spoke he was barely even aware of Lou's presence, too consumed in putting out his thoughts. It was a lot more difficult than he'd expected, and he stayed silent for a moment as he gathered the loose threads. His random thoughts being set free rather than staying stuck in his head felt weird. Foreign. Usually, they remained fragments of his mind, unspoken yet present. "But then you wake up from that nice thing, and realize it's all a lie. Not true, and never will be. I hate dreams when I think of them this way. It's kinda like taunting you, giving you something then taking it away all of a sudden."

Lou smiled. "Life is all about perspective, isn't it?"

Aaron snapped his head towards Lou again. He'd almost forgotten that he was even listening. "Yeah. I mean, you can look at nice dreams as taunting, and you can look at them as giving you the privilege to feel something nice even for just a second. You can always look at the bright side." Aaron sighed, and his voice suddenly lowered to bitter mumbles. "But you know when you can't look at the bright side? When your eyes have darkness in them, coming from them. That's when you can't even find the light."

This came like a pang to Lou's heart. He let out a bitter chuckle then said, "It's hard, it's hard to hate yourself like that. And it's even worse to think as much as you do. Sometimes, we all get this feeling that we're the cause of the bad things. That it's our fault, and... and-" Lou stopped. Something came to his mind. Maybe it is, he thought. He waved a hand in a dismissing manner as he sat up, forcing a smile. "Just don't do that to yourself. You're worth more, trust me, you're worth more than all this negativity. I'm going to the bathroom. Give me a second. Sleep a little more."

Aaron watched as Lou entered the bathroom connected to the room. It felt weird to talk to a captor like that, completely disregarding the situation. But to deny that it felt good to vent, Aaron couldn't do that. He knew Lou was just as insane as the others to even allow a sick game like this to happen, to contribute in it, but he partly liked that he could maintain a normal conversation with him—something he couldn't do with the amount of abnormal things surrounding him. But then it hit him; the fact that perhaps the most dangerous thing happening was how he was subconsciously growing comfortable around his captor.

He turned to his other side, and he found a paper on the nightstand beside the bed. For a second, he watched the door to the bathroom cautiously, then reached his hand to the paper and held it, briefly going through the artistic patterns traced along. Somewhere through, he recognized the shape of a blurry person tearing a paper, but the slit was large enough to reach up to him and split his own self apart.

A faint pang shot through the room and Aaron dropped the paper with shock, watching motionlessly as it swayed in the air until it slid beneath the bed. A small, dark silhouette of a bird lingered against the curtain, and Aaron cursed himself for overreacting when he realized it had just knocked its beak against the glass. He quickly hopped off the bed and sat on his knees on the floor by the bed, leaning down to stare beneath it. Dust pelted at his face; he coughed. Lou clearly didn't clean his room that much.

As soon as Aaron recovered from the tiny dust storm, he squinted and reached his hand under the bed, but he frowned when he touched something solid. He patted it uncertainly multiple times, then grabbed it along with the paper and brought it out. His eyes widened as he took in what lay in his hand.

A key.

The bathroom door clicked. Aaron froze and cradled the key against him, desperately trying to hide it with both hands.

"What're you doing, baby?"

*_*_*_*_*_*

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