All Your Fates (Currently editing/updating)

Chapter 27: Blast from Another Past ~ Tom Liljeholm

“Does he get angry with you a lot?” I asked through gritted teeth.

“No, it’s just when I talk about Alina. I know I’m not supposed to,” Martin said with numb eyes. 

“Why not?” I asked.

“I don’t know. I’m just not supposed to,” he replied. 

“Where is she now?” I asked.

“She didn’t come back yet. Mum was really worried when she didn’t come home. And then you left too. She cried a lot then,” Martin said and I could see my question was beginning to upset him, his eyes suddenly wet and glassy. 

But my spider senses had started tingling. And not in that good way either, so I kept prodding him.

“Has anyone talked to her since she left?” I asked. 

“No... Can I tell you a secret David? I think Dad forced her to go. I heard him tell mum that he hid her and that no one was going to find her,” Martin said with a voice much more innocent in tone than content.

Martin leaned on top of my shoulder and squeezed me hard. As he did, I could see through the gap between his neck and pajamas that he was heavily bruised. He had been beaten badly. 

I knew it! I knew this fucking family was batshit crazy, and I didn’t want to have another second of it. But the kid made me feel bad. My alternate self had apparently gathered up enough wits to break out of this hellhole. But he had left his brother – our brother – behind. How could he do that? Did that mean there was some part of me that would be capable of leaving a child behind to live amongst an abusive man? Or even worse?

I was ending this right now. I patted Martin on the cheek and told him that it was all going to be better soon before I rushed out the door. As I sprung down the stairs and through the lower corridor, I could hear my mother calling for me.

I slammed the door shut behind me, and back out in the pouring ice cold rain I realized that I had no idea where I was going. The police? I guessed that that would make sense, but I had no idea where to find a station. 

The icy water splashing against my face didn’t feel so bad anymore. Instead, the distraction felt welcome. The sound and the sudden strikes of pain as drops hit my skin cleared my mind, and I saw some lights that formed a small town down the hill.

When I got down to the town, I realized that most of it had closed business for the night. There were no signs or police cars to guide me to wherever the station was, so when I heard loud music playing from one of the doors as I passed it, I turned around and headed in. 

I was standing in an Irish themed pub, with large Celtic carved wooden shelves above the bar that held hundreds of bottles of various spirits and beers. There was a large, fiery haired woman behind the counter. She was talking to a client that was sitting at the bar and smiling while polishing a glass with a rag.

I headed over to the bar and tried not to intrude on their conversation. When the bartender saw me standing there, she excused herself to the client and went over to greet me. 

“Hello honey! Haven’t seen you here in ages! Where have you been? What can I get you?” she purred at me with a jovial smile.

Sounded like I had pretty much been a regular at the place before my migration. Figured. 

“Hey! It’s silly – I seem to have forgotten how to get to the police station,” I tried.

She looked back at me, concerned. 

“Why? Is everything alright?” she said with a furrowed brow.

I didn’t know what to say. Everything was not fine. But I wasn’t sure telling her about Martin’s bruises, Alina’s disappearance or my search for Emma was going to make much sense to her, so I thought on my feet. 

“I just lost my car keys and I thought someone might have turned them in,” I covered, not so shabbily I thought.

She smiled at me and put a beer on the counter in front of me. I took a deep gulp and set it back down on the bar. The place was nice enough. The bar stools were made out of leather seats sitting on frames of polished oak. For the dinner guests there were booths, where the tables had proper linen tablecloths. None of that glass covered, easy-to-wipe crap. All in all it was a comfy bar, where I was sure that small town hellhole David had spent plenty a night trying to escape the reality of his life. 

“You want another beer, honey?” the bartender asked over my shoulder.

“No thanks. I need to be able to drive home later,” I heard a slick charismatic man’s voice behind me. 

“Didn’t you say you forgot your keys?” I heard him address me now, and my blood turned to ice as I turned around.

“Gabriel...” I whispered, as I turned to stare into his cool ice blue eyes.