when They come for you

Caught#02-in the past

It happened when Autry and I were still in primary school. It also took place on an evening. Me and Autry came home to find mum there waiting for us. At the time, she was still studying and didn't have a full-time job.

The sockets of her eyes were red rings around her pink eyes. Her irises were a piercing black; matching the long hair tied at her neck. Except it wasn't. It hung loose, swinging off her shoulders, down to her waist. Some of it stuck to her tear-stained cheeks and all she said, as she stood up from the dining table, was;

"We have to go".

Autry didn't ask anything, but just helped mum burn all of our photos in the sink. He collected all the photos from our frames and albums and threw them in. Including dad's.

Mum had wiped the sink dry and then lit a match on the evidence of our memories. We watched it all go down the sink, as she turned the tap on. I didn't dare say anything, the fear and tension swallowing me whole.  

As mum and Autry rushed around trying to pack things, I was given the job of scrubbing the sink with a steel-wool sponge, to get rid of the suspicious brown burns that marred the basin. Because I couldn't quite reach, I stood on a small wooden stool, with my shoulders in the sink.  I cried quietly as I did. I cried even though I didn't yet have a logical reason to. I'd heard that boys weren't meant to cry, but still, I cried for nothing. And then nothing was what we got. 

Where's dad? I wanted to ask. Where are we going? Will dad be where we're going? He wasn't. Why was mum crying? Why are we running away? I have never found out.What are we running from anyway? Investigators? Were we running from other ghouls that mum and dad had been involved with? Autry and I knew by then that not all of our parents' 'old friends' were exactly nice. Why isn't Autry saying anything? Does Autry know what's going on? Will he be able to explain it to me? But he never did.

As the three of us ran from our old apartment, carrying the only things left of our old lives, Autry finally cried. Or at least I think he did -I've never asked him about it since.

 His shoulders shook a little, under the white cotton of his school shirt, and his breaths grew shorter. For a moment I was unsure of what to do. I couldn't exactly hug him mid-run, with an over-stuffed shopping bag in one hand and a back-pack big enough to cover the whole of my behind. So I just reached out my free hand and held his. Just to let him know that his useless little brother was still there for him. I didn't even know what for. 

When we had arrived at the train station, mum bought four tickets. Four. That had got my hopes up, and I began to ask about where dad was, and why we hadn't seen him at all, that week. I was surprised and a little hurt, when Autry quickly grabbed my wrist and squeezed it pink. He was telling me to shut-up. Mum chose to ignore my half-asked question anyway. She remained silent the whole time, and said not a word to either of us.    

Even though we had bought the tickets, we never boarded the train. Instead, we went by foot.

We probably only walked for a short time, but to my tired legs, it felt like hours. My class had had sport that day. Probably the last sport lesson I'd ever have.

 As the sky began to darken, a black-clad lady stopped us. My mum fumbled out some words under her breath, to which the lady nodded and handed over some papers and what looked like thin little books.

That was the second time in my life, that I'd had my name changed.

The first time it happened was when I was still a baby, but I'm not sure that Autry was still old enough at the time to remember.  

I pondered silently to myself whether it was this same lady that had given the false documentation for us to live as different people almost half a decade ago. 

I still remember what she looked like. She wore long, heeled boots and a short skirt over her black denim. Even her hair was black and long. She wore a mask that looked like it had a beak, but let her red eyes and black sclera show through. The bottom half of her face was left exposed to the cold, the red lips kept in a cautious smile. Were all ghouls this whacky-looking? 

Of course, I flinched involuntarily when she ruffled my hair. I guess as the shortest, I was the most likely target. As she brought her hand near me, I could smell the sharp scent of after-shave. Strange.

The lady in the mask got the three of us into the back of her van (that wasn't white) and drove us until midday the following afternoon.

We were all shown to an apartment complex. This was where my family would all live. Without dad.