There We Were (boyxboy, sequel to Here We Are)

There We Were part 3

Lucas and I did go to the movies, but we didn't see Tron Legacy. Instead we caught a showing of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, which was amazing. On the way home, Lucas swung into a McDonald's drive through and we parked at the lake to eat our dinner. 

I dozed on the way home, and could barely keep my eyes open as Lucas helped me up the stairs when we got home. I felt him taking off my shoes and my jeans, then tucking me under the covers, but after that, I was gone.

In my memory, it was Christmas. I was six, and Daniel had just turned ten. He was busy setting up his new Playstation in the basement, and Mom and Dad were busy scooping up piles of wrapping paper and bows and stuffing them into black plastic garbage bags. Dad was huffing about us being spoiled brats- Mom was bemoaning the mess. I was sitting quietly on the sofa, my feet dangling, fiddling with my new stuffed tiger. A sudden pounding made my parents raise their heads. Daniel came bursting through the basement door, his cheeks bright with excitement. 

"Dad," he said. "Can you help? I can't get the wires right-"

"Sure, son," Dad said, literally dropping the bag immediately onto the floor. He and Daniel began to descend the stairs, but Daniel paused, pointing a finger at me. 

"Don't you dare ever touch this, twerp," he growled. "If you break it, I'll kill you."

"He's right," Dad affirmed. "This is Daniel's present, and you may only touch it with his permission."

Two weeks later, I had just come in from sledding on the hill. I was sitting at the counter, a cup of Swiss Miss between my hands, when a thought struck me. Danny wasn't home, nor was Dad. I pushed my cup away and slipped into the basement. 

The Playstation gleamed in the dim light. I cautiously pressed a chubby finger to the power button, watching in awe as it hummed to life. I gingerly picked up a controller and pressed a few buttons. 

Suddenly, a message flashed onto the screen, blaring words I could not understand. Horrified, I flew up the stairs and into my bedroom, shutting myself into the closet. 

I clutched my tiger, terrified sobs wracking my body. I'd broken it. I wasn't supposed to touch it, and I broke it. 

I stayed in the closet until I heard Dad's car rumble into the garage, fresh tears sliding down my face as Danny and Dad's voices floated up from the kitchen.  With dread I heard Daniel's thudding steps into the basement. 

I waited, silent, until I heard the angry yell and the pounding footsteps. More voices, this time loud and angry, then my father's heavy footfalls came up the stairs and stopped at my bedroom door. The door burst open and my father boomed, "Theodore Ryan Hansen, come here now."

Trembling, tears pooling in my eyes, I stepped out of my closet, the tiger dangling from my fingers. My father glared at me for a full minute, then flicked his eyes to the bed. I lay down on my belly with my legs still on the ground, then slid my pants down, leaving my bottom bare. I raised my arms and clenched them around my tiger, pressing it to my forehead as I heard the tinkle of my father's belt being removed. 

There was a beat of silence, then the telltale whistle. 

I squeezed my eyes shut tight as I was cracked me apart. This beating was worse than usual. This time, he used the buckle.

I jolted awake, dripping with sweat, my breath hitched and erratic. Pain flared in my fingers, and I looked down to see them clenched around my blankets. Tears slid down my cheeks. 

Automatically, it seemed, I slid off the bed and onto the floor. My hand sifted under the mattress, hunting around until my fingers closed around the sock. 

I drew out the razor I'd stuffed there when I first arrived, swearing to myself I'd never use it. 

Guess that promise's broken,  whispered the voice in my head. 

My heart pounded as I slid the blade across my arm, my head dipping back with the strange mix of relief and pain. I cut slowly and deliberately, but deeper than I usually did. The lines of scarlet calmed me. They were familiar and comforting, in a twisted way. 

I was so focused on this that I didn't notice my door opening until a soft rustle made my head jerk up. 

Lucas was standing there, his hair weak and silver in the moonlight, his face tormented. 

"Theo... Theo you promised."

"I-I-I'm sorry- I-I I c-can't-"

"Theo, stop!"

Lucas lunged forward and grabbed my hand, still gliding over my wrists unconsciously. 

I ripped away from his touch, scrambling to my feet, my eyes crazed. 

"No!" I screamed. "No! You- you can't! I need it! I need it!"

Lucas cast an anxious glance at the door. "Theo, ssh, my mother-" 

"No!" I yelled. "You don't understand! I need it! I can't stop! They make me do it... And you-y-you can't make me stop, however h-hard you try-"

"Lucas? What's going on? Theo-Theo!" Mrs. T came lunging forward, trying to grab the razor still sliding across my arms, blood pooling at my feet. My head swam. 

"NO! Stop! I need it! I need it!"

Mrs. Thomason yelled over her shoulder, "Lucas! Call 911!"

As Lucas ran out of the room, as Mrs. Thomason wrestled me to the ground, as my life, my killer, was ripped from my hands, the memory of that stuffed tiger swam to my brain, and I started to cry.