this is the last time you read about Aaron!
Chapter 22 | Aaron
The music in the ballroom bursted out of the speakers but impossibly, it felt like it was thumping inside Aaron's skull. Parties weren't his thing, yet here he was, stuck in a school party, dreading every second.
Right now, it was better if no one talked to him because any moment and he'd burst, in the minimal way at least. He'd wanted to spend his sixteenth birthday in bed. Sleeping. And maybe eating. But God forbid that something ever went his way.
Someone bumped into his side for the millionth time since he'd arrived and at this point, he was ready to fight. Teeth clenched, he turned his neck stiffly aside whilst keeping a palm disinterestedly along his cheek. Erika stood beside him.
"Such a party animal. How come you're here?"
"Either this or family gathering and some shit with dad." Aaron faced forward again. She knew better than anyone that he was quite an asshole when he was grumpy but she looked ready to challenge him. Not the right time. Aaron didn't say anything else.
Erika watched the way he was leaning against the tall cocktail table in front of him. Her eyes followed the outward curve of his spine. He never seemed to give a shit about posture yet he nagged about back pain. She didn't understand him.
"So it's clear you're not enjoying this. Wanna sneak out?"
Aaron frowned. He gave her a quick look. Pretty makeup and pretty dress. Worthy of a party. Why would she want to waste that? "Don't worry about me. Go ahead, have fun."
"Nah, I won't have fun with you here upset like this."
"I swear it's fine. I don't mind—"
"You don't get it. I need to talk to you about something. Let's go out."
Aaron's heart unwillingly skipped a beat. There was something about these types of preambles that gave him anxiety. He sighed and said, "That doesn't make my stress levels hit rooftop."
Erika needed to talk to him about the scars she saw. It wouldn't end well, she knew, but she couldn't lie to him. "Nothing serious." Ironically, she just lied to him again. "Come with me."
Aaron left the cup he'd been holding and followed her across the cluster of teens to the large doors of the ballroom. Quickly, she opened it just enough to slip through. Aaron followed her to the foyer.
Outside, the music became distant but the ache in Aaron's ears persisted. He wouldn't be surprised if they were bleeding. His face scrunched.
Erika gave him a worried glance. "Something wrong?"
"No. I just hate loud music."
"It makes your head hurt like crying does... ?"
Aaron froze, then looked at her. The pitch of her voice seemed implicating to something. He ignored it and bounded down the staircase to the entrance.
They stepped outside and meandered across the gravel lining the side of the road until they made it to a nearby park. At night, it seemed abandoned. The sound of leaves rustling and rats darting along almost resembled the sound of footsteps following them.
They settled on a bench. Aaron had been tempted to scream at her just tell me already! But he knew he was just grumpy because it'd been a horrible day and she didn't deserve the outburst.
The silence was suffocatingly thick. Erika cleared her throat. "How's your ankle doing?"
Aaron subconsciously looked down at it. "Better."
He'd been arguing with his dad at the front porch and he'd accidentally pushed him. Aaron had tumbled down the few stair-steps, landed in a wrong position and hurt his ankle. Of course he never told her the full thing.
"That's good." Erika didn't look at him, as if she was guilty. "How are you?"
Kinda crying, kinda dying. Kinda sad, kinda itching to shoot himself. He said, "What a creative followup question. Great, you?"
Erika nodded, indicating a positive answer? Or was she too caught up in something in her head she didn't even actually comprehend the question? "I wanted to tell you something, but, please, promise me you won't get angry. Promise me you'll listen and won't flip out."
"The way you're preambling already makes me wanna flip out."
Erika would throw a remark about him using preambling but she knew it wasn't the best time. "Remember when you were drunk, and, uh..."
"Not this again," Aaron mumbled, pressing his palms against his face. He sighed. "It's nothing, I told you I just tried it—"
Erika touched his knee, signaling him to stop talking. She continued, "No. Not about that. I mean about that but not about that—" she waved her hands exasperatedly "—forget it. When I was talking to you, you started slurring and stuff. You said you that you hate yourself."
"Tell me this wasn't a surprise. An idiot can figure out I hate myself."
Erika almost chuckled. She punched his arm lightly. "Stop being an ass and let me explain. You said you had ugly things on you and you pointed at your back. So... uh, I..." She sighed, then spoke guiltily fast, "I kinda... checked."
This had Aaron's heart freezing. For a millisecond, no beats, no blood pumping. His eyes remained fixed on grass blades strewn across the ground.
Aaron pretended he didn't understand the conclusion. "That's unappreciated but okay. Move on."
Erika tilted her head. Then she laughed, brief and humorless. "Aaron, I'm serious. I saw the scars. I saw everything. How- Who's doing that to you?" She didn't want to accuse his dad so fast.
"No one."
"Seriously?"
For a second, Aaron didn't say anything. Then, "What were you thinking when you did that?"
"I was thinking I need to help you."
Aaron snorted, straightening his shoulders whilst reaching a hand to scratch his neck. "I didn't ask for help. You didn't help. You know I'm insecure about my body and yet you figure out: okay let's have a look while he's drunk, that totally wouldn't piss him off."
"I knew it would piss you off and I'm sorry, okay? I'm just worried about you—"
Aaron twisted so he was facing her square. The lamp post's light reflected off his eyes, enhancing the gold flecks. "I appreciate you're worried about me but I don't appreciate what you did. How can you just tear my privacy like that?"
"Don't change the subject."
"I'm not changing the subject."
"Yes you are."
"No."
"Aaron."
"Erika."
"Aaron."
One more time? Aaron bit his lip and tried, "Eri—"
"Stop it." The finality in her voice was stark. "Look, I said I'm sorry. I didn't mean to tear your privacy or whatever. I didn't meant to upset you or make you feel insecure." She turned so she could look at him properly, fingers reaching for his hand but he pulled back. Her heart tore but she continued, "I just want you to know that I wouldn't do anything without you agreeing. I want you to know that if you need to tell someone I'm here."
It was an odd thing. The way Aaron's head functioned. He couldn't justify the way he acted or what he said but he knew it was harder than putting into words. This dismissal of help, this constant evasion of his problem—he didn't know how to stop it.
He wanted to live in his destruction but he didn't want to live in his destruction but he wanted to live in his destruction.
The dying part of him always outweighed. Always doubled over the part pleading for life. His fourteen-year-old definition of himself had been accurate.
Aaron looked at his lap. "I don't wanna talk about it."
"Aaron, you can't act this—"
"Please."
A long sigh. "If it makes you feel better."
Erika watched Aaron nod, watched his lashes repeatedly tangle then untangle. Sometimes he reminded her of a child. Sometimes she wanted to hug him and never let go but others she wanted to slap him and yell: let go of this pride!
Aaron slowly looked up, at the stars. He reached a hand up, squinting, because the more he did the more he could imagine he was touching the sky.
"What are you doing?"
"Nothing." Aaron's hand slumped down again. The stars were a metaphor in his head. He sought them like he sought solace but it'd become a far-fetched fantasy. He couldn't remember when his want to live turned into a lopsided, precarious existence.
He couldn't remember when he stopped even wanting his father's love or mother's presence. When love me, dad, turned into stay away from me. When come back, mom, turned into I don't want you. He couldn't remember when the detachment latched on him. It was both liberating and exhausting.
"What do you wanna talk about?"
This was a lame attempt on Erika's part to initiate conversation. She noticed that Aaron never directly vented about his problems but when he talked about things he liked, he bled through.
"You might wanna shove cotton in your ears because everything I talk about is boring bullshit that doesn't make sense."
"I'm ready for it, you just go ahead."
Aaron stayed silent for a moment. "You know Freud? He's a philosopher. A lot of people hate him."
Erika had expected he'd talk about philosophy or astronomy. "The dude who sexualized children. Yeah, I know."
"Trust me people don't hate him for that. They hate him mostly because he was straightforward as hell when he defined human beings. He said: human beings are animals who hide behind a mask of civilization. They're innately aggressive, selfish, and animalistic. Something like that. He basically called us monsters."
"You agree? You think you're a monster?"
"Kinda. None of us is a fallen angel. We all have some kind of evilness in us, you know?" Aaron was referring to the inexplicable monstrosity in him: the ungrateful, piece of shit kind who couldn't even bring himself to love his own mother anymore.
Aaron continued, "Freud said that a child is a man's father. Which means that our childhood is what makes us what we are. But our childhood is shaped by others. So when we grow, we're an outcome, right? Just petty little shits who can't get their heads out of what happened. And even then, it's our fault. It always is. We try to change but there's always this heavy feeling in our chest that even changing wouldn't make us good enough."
Admittedly, Erika didn't understand. Not what he said, but what he meant with it. She couldn't pretend she felt his pain because she didn't.
Aaron shook his head, laughing bitterly. "I told you I only talk about bullshit."
"I liked it." So letting him talk about what he wanted didn't lead her to the destination. She decided to jump to the point again. "If... is it your dad you're referring to?"
Aaron didn't answer. Father. The sentimental value of this word had been butchered long ago. Today, he was sixteen. Two years and everything would end. Independency. If he lived until then.
He finally answered, "No. I was just talking in general."
"If you keep bottling everything up like that it's gonna end up with a pretty bad breakdown."
Aaron made a face. "I'm not gonna have a breakdown."
"Yeah, sure."
If Aaron had a breakdown, he'd prefer to have it alone. Not in front of Erika. Not in front of anyone he knew. And to think of it was terrifying: what kind of man would cry because his father hit him? So what? Surely he'd look like a pussy.
"Hello? Aaron?"
Aaron quickly glanced at his phone. It was getting late. "Can we forget about it?" he quickly said, trying to distract her. "I think we should go home now."
Erika sighed, long and heavy. "I know you're trying to get out of this, but I won't push you." She finally pulled herself up and smoothened her dress. With heels, she was almost taller than Aaron. Their eyes perfectly aligned without needing to look up or down.
Aaron gestured her before him. "I'll walk you home."
So they did. Beside each other, under the stars, they trudged silently until they made it to Erika's house. There, she stood by the front-porch.
"Do you want me to tell my brother to give you a ride home? Because it's dark and you're alone—"
"No. Thanks." Aaron forced a smile. "Good night." When Erika leant in for a hug, he pushed her off. Almost like a reflex. He felt insecure around her now that she'd seen his scars. "I'm sorry—" his gaze skittered down "—I just.."
Erika pretended she wasn't hurt. "It's okay. I get it."
Just as he turned, he heard her say one last thing, "Oh, and try to answer my texts next time."
Aaron frowned and pulled up his phone. He hadn't noticed she'd texted him earlier, before the party. "I'm sorry. My phone's been acting up. Everything's been so glitchy."
It ended there. He walked across the streets where Erika lived. It was peaceful. Only him, a wanderer wondering when he'd ever manage to make sense. To be a proper human.
He hadn't noticed someone was standing right in front of him until he just about bumped into their chest. He frowned and took a hasty step back, preparing to apologize.
"Hey there, pretty boy. Time for pay back, don't you think?"
Blake's voice. Aaron mumbled, "You've got to be shitting me," and quickly spun the other way and sprinted back into the streets.
By the hasty sound of footsteps behind, Aaron could tell Blake wasn't alone. Because a boy with biscuits for bones needed a gang to break him.
Aaron ran barely far enough when another boy cut the way off. In front and behind. Surrounded. Aaron glanced back then at the alleyway to his left. Towards the very end, wooden fencing towered high enough to forbid jumping.
"Nowhere to escape," the boy taunted.
Aaron looked again at the alleyway, squinting this time. There was a crack in the fence. Quite small, but not too much. Only a skinny, small boy like him could pass through. He bolted into the alleyway. The boys followed.
They thought he'd gotten himself cornered on his own until Aaron squeezed himself through the hole. The jagged edges of the wood scratched against him. His heart stuttered when someone caught his foot, trying to drag him back.
Aaron kicked, catching the boy possibly in the jaw, and quickly crawled out and ended on the other side of the street. As he scampered there, he heard one boy yell:
"You should thank God you're the size of a pea, Aaron!"
"Thank God!" Aaron shouted back.
For the second time, Aaron only experienced victory for half a second. Whilst running, someone else caught him from the side, slapping a hand on his mouth, and pulled him into another alleyway.
The boy pushed Aaron against the wall, one arm against his throat. Aaron glared, chest heaving, brows furrowed. "What do you want from me?"
Eventually, Blake and his wingman caught up and walked into the alleyway. "Thought you won?" Blake laughed, walking closer to Aaron. "Remember how you slammed the locker in my face?"
"Yeah. And I also remember you pretty much abusing me every day in school."
Blake disregarded what Aaron had said. "You know what you are, Aaron?" he asked. The smirk on his lips ticked Aaron off, but with an arm just about squashing his throat, he couldn't do anything. "You're trash."
Aaron almost laughed despite everything. "I know."
Blake seemed almost flustered for a split-second at the response. Then pride puffed his chest again and a sinister smile tugged his lips up, barely recognizably under the dim lighting. "And you know where trash belongs?"
Aaron watched Blake point back at the dumpster against the wall opposite to him.
"The dumpster."
Blake patted Aaron's cheek hard then gestured the boy constricting Aaron with a nonchalant flick of his wrist.
"Throw him in there."
"No," Aaron mumbled as the boy in front of him hooked an arm around his torso and another quickly lifted his ankles. They walked with him closer to the dumpster. "No! Leave me alone!"
"Trash belongs in the trash, Aaron. What can we do. That's a fact."
The boys chuckled to themselves like drunkards drunk on horse-piss and threw Aaron right into the dumpster.
Blake held the lid, just about to close it on Aaron. "This is so satisfying—"
"Hello? Police? Yeah, I'm sure there are some boys harassing someone in here."
The boys froze, shared glances and cursed under their breaths. Then, suddenly, they fled like reindeers chased by lions.
Aaron sighed as he caught the rim of the dumpster and tried hoisting himself up. Beneath his feet, the piles of trash dipped. He arduously crossed a leg over the edge.
"I knew this good old trick would work."
Aaron glanced in the voice's direction. Midst the darkness, the man at the mouth of the alleyway was unrecognizable.
He offered a hand to Aaron. "Need help?"
Aaron ignored it and jumped down on his own. He groaned at the stench now stuck to him like glue, peeling a banana off his tuxedo.
"Thanks," he finally said as he ran a hand through his hair, a desperate attempt at raking out anything. Ashamed, his eyes never rose off the floor.
The man pursed his lips, clucking his tongue. He pulled back his hand. "Do you want me to give you a ride home?" As he waited for an answer, he reached for Aaron's hair, aiming to dust off the dirt.
Aaron jerked away. "No. It's fine. Thanks again." He quickly walked past the guy and hurried back home.
When he got there, he silently entered and lumbered to his room. Aaron quickly took off his blazer and dress shirt. He glanced at the mirror. His hair was coated with shit (he hoped not literally, though) from the dumpster.
He made a face and mumbled, "I need a bath."
Joke. It was a halfhearted joke. He couldn't have one because he didn't even have a bathtub, and he sure as hell wouldn't want someone giving him one. A shower would suffice.
Fate would be cackling.
Unknowingly to him, the man who'd helped him was Daddy and he'd stealthily followed him so he'd make sure the boys wouldn't bother him again. When he watched Aaron arrive home safely, he turned back, phone against his ear.
"I almost thought I'd be taking our baby boy home tonight, Cara. He was kinda grumpy, but that's probably because my poor baby hasn't had his sleep yet. I'm guessing someone's gonna enjoy the naps."
For a second, he was silent. Then he added, "Also, I sensed that he's a bit too prideful. He wouldn't even let me help him. That's a problem, but it's nothing I can't fix."
*_*_*_*_*_*
fun fact no one gives a shit about: i turned 18 yesterday!
Hope u enjoyed this chap! there's only one more Aaron chap but aaron wont be in it. u're gonna see what his father did when he disappeared. Aaron will only appear slightly in coming captors' chaps as they stalk him. So there's that! Leo chaps are returning soon tho.
thank you for reading/commenting/voting, it means the world to me <3