I sit in the dark. And it would be hard to figure out—
Which is worse; the darkness inside, or the darkness out.
Chapter Six: Shattered Innocence
You already understood that Henry wasn't good at keeping his promises.
But the fact that he couldn't even remember to enforce his own rules was kind of laughable.
He'd forbade you from having any contact with Allen, and yet he still asked him to work at the house. It was coming together nicely, though the yard was still a mess. Often times, Henry left you alone with Allen even after he'd told you not to speak with him anymore.
This afternoon was another one of those times.
"Is he still inside?" Allen asked, his ruby-red eyes locked on the paintbrush in his hand as he brushed strokes down the house's exterior.
"Yup. And Lauren's out running errands with Peter, too." You informed him, painting the side of the house as well.
He turned slightly to peek at you, "'Kay. So what do you think of my idea?"
Immediately, a feeling of uneasiness took over you. Sighing, you set down the brush on a nearby patio table, "...Well, are you sure it's a good idea? Why did you hate that cop so much anyway?"
He'd told you earlier about how he planned to vandalize the home of a police officer. You understood that he knew the cop on a 'personal' level, but he hadn't explained how or why.
He pouted slightly, and threw down his paintbrush. He was standing only about four feet away, and leaned against a part of the wall that wasn't freshly painted yet. "...Er, I didn't tell you-?"
You smiled a bit and shook your head, "No, you didn't." He looked kind of adorable with that sulky look on his face.
He sighed, and crossed his arms. "That cop's been on my ass ever since I moved here. Apparently he used to be a part of the police force in my old town back in New York. He already knew about me and the things I did so I guess he decided to be even more of a dick to me than he needs to be." He was staring down at the ground, eyebrows furrowed in annoyance.
"Uh, like how?"
He scowled and looked back up, "I was walking home one night when he drove up to me and made me stop. He forced me to take a drug test, an alcohol test,and he checked me for any weapons. I hadn't even done anything wrong! That asswipe just assumed I was about to commit a crime or some shit. He even had me on the ground at some point. He was acting like such a fuckin' douche, too. All I was doing was walking home from Zao's house. I hadn't touched drugs or alcohol that whole damn night." His teeth clenched.
You nodded, "Yeah, that's unfair."
He turned back to aggressively continue painting the house—to which you had to stifle a giggle—and muttered, "That cop deserves an ass-kicking. He's lucky he's even a cop. That's why," He glanced at you, "I need to fuck up his house or something to get him back."
Something didn't feel right. Eyebrows knit together, you pointed out, "But you said you got in trouble back in New York. You've told me that before too, but you never said how." You paused to stare at him; he stubbornly avoided eye contact and continued painting. "...Can you tell me now?"
He rolled his eyes, "It's stupid. You don't want to hear it, trust me."
You stepped closer to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. He peered back up at you and lowered his paintbrush. "Allen. Tell me please."
The look of concern on your face was probably what got him to cave. "Alright, fine, whatever." He shrugged, and shoved his hands into his pockets. "Well... my dad left when I was a kid. I guess I... took that kind of personally. I hated him for it. And living with Mom in New York wasn't the greatest. She ignored me; she could barely take care of herself. So..." He glanced away, avoiding eye contact again. "I did stupid stuff, trying to get attention. Skipping school, shoplifting. Name some random kid kind of destructiveness and I probably did it. Nobody noticed. Or cared. Mom was worried about paying the bills and getting a drink every night. Dad had bailed and wasn't coming back."
He ran a hand through his dark hair, tense. He appeared to be holding back his fury. "So I went big and boosted a car. Got caught. I thought Dad would come rescue me and Mom would cry and..." He paused. "They didn't even get me a real lawyer. Public defender. They turned their backs on me. Abandoned me."
His mom probably got sick of him. That's why she eventually forced him to move in with his dad—way out here, you realized. "That's horrible."
"I hate them both," He stated.
His voice wasn't angry. It was cold, unflinching. You'd thought he was more dangerous than his guns. You decided to push that away.
He was just a hurt boy.
D-E-A-D-L-Y-A-T-T-R-A-C-T-I-O-N-
After Allen went home for the day, Lauren and Peter came home.
"How was it?" You asked your brother absentmindedly as you skimmed a magazine on the living room couch.
"Boring!" He complained, "Mom just takes me to grocery stores and furniture places." He plopped down on the sofa with you. "...It's never fun to go shopping with her." He mumbled.
You set down your magazine. Since he wasn't in school yet, Peter hadn't made any friends in this state yet. He'd been playing alone for weeks, and looked forward to nothing other than going out into town. And now, apparently, that wasn't enough. He wasn't happy.
You wanted him to be happy.
"...Hey Peter, guess what I found out from Allen yesterday?"
He sat up, instantly starry-eyed at the mention of Allen. "What?! What did you hear from him?"
You grinned, and ruffled his blonde hair. "There's a park nearby. Have you been to it yet?"
His cerulean eyes widened, "No?! Why hasn't anyone taken me?"
You shrugged, "I dunno. Let's change that right now."
A while later, you arrived at the neighborhood park with Peter. He gave you a big hug and then dashed off to play. As he introduced himself to a few other children, you sat down on one of the benches. How could neither Henry or Lauren brought him here? Didn't they see how trapped he was inside that stuffy house?
It wasn't healthy. You almost wished summer would end soon so that you and Peter could escape to school. At least you'd be away from Henry and Lauren for some hours.
You watched Peter run around for a while. He seemed to have already made a good friend—it was a young Moldovan boy wearing a ghost costume. In the middle of June. The person he kept running back to was another teenager, one wearing a red trench coat and scolding him in a Romanian accent.
Eventually, they had to leave the park. You decided to get their number in case Peter wanted to play with him again. "Okay, thanks. And what was your brother's name again...?" You asked, hoping not to sound rude.
His older sibling grinned cheerfully, "His name is Moldova! Cool huh? A-Anyway, uh..." He looked down and blushed shyly, "Is-Is there some other reason why you wanted my number...?"
You glanced down at your phone, which had the name 'Vladimir' spread across the screen as a new contact. "Nope," You looked back up at him and smiled weakly, "I uh, have a boyfriend."
After a stilted, rushed, flustered apology, Vladimir bid you goodbye and left with his brother. Peter waved at them as they left, and then turned to you. "Thanks for getting their number! Now I'll have someone to play with. Moldova was so cool! And you should have heard all the nice things he said about his brother."
"Yeah..." You stared at 'your' phone; which was really the old Nokia that Lauren had bought for emergencies. She'd insisted you take it since you were going somewhere alone with Peter. "So. We still have a bit of time left. Wanna go play on the swings?"
"Sure!"
As you sat next to Peter on the swing-set, he looked up into the nearing sunset. "...I haven't had this much fun since we moved here," He admitted quietly.
You glanced at him and smiled, "I know." He was happy because of you.
"...Big sister?"
Your smile lowered. His voice sounded strangely serious. "Yeah? What's wrong?"
His hands were still wrapped around the swing's chains, and he looked down at his dangling legs. "Is everything... okay?"
You nearly felt your heart crack. "'Okay'? Um..." You wanted to feel like a good older sibling—but would a good one lie? Peter may not be related to you by blood, but you loved him as if he were. He deserved to hear the truth; he was smart enough to understand. "...I don't know if everything will be okay," You whispered.
Upon hearing your words, he looked back up into the sky. "I knew it."
His voice had barely been audible. "You what?"
His eyes continued to stare into the orange, gold, and pink skyline. "My country's different. It's way different than how we live at home. It's got no war, no bad people, and no evil."
You stared at him, clutching the swing's chains even tighter in your hands. "What do you—"
"-If it was real, it would be one of those big, important countries. One that everyone relied on," He slipped off the swing and twirled around the set, "It would be beautiful, on an island in the bright blue ocean. There would be rich history, landmarks, and exciting places to visit! Everyone would love it and wanna come live with me~!" He climbed on the play structure, and began imagining that he was on a ship leading to his 'country'. "Onward to Sealand!" He shouted joyously, steering the play wheel and pointing into the horizon.
From your spot on the swings, you chuckled and said, "You really wanna run a country, don't you Peter?" He could run for president later this year and you'd vote for him.
He nodded rapidly, and continued to describe a nation full of peace, love, and happiness.
If only he knew about the horrors going on within his own immediate family.
His childhood innocence was still fully intact. You wished to be a little girl again so you could feel that purity once more.
However, you knew that you had already lost your innocence.
You would shelter Peter from this harsh world. Peter, your sweet, adorable little brother. You would protect him for the rest of your days.
D-E-A-D-L-Y-A-T-T-R-A-C-T-I-O-N-
That night, you were thinking about what Allen had told you. He wanted to vandalize a cop's house, but why?
Because he'd treated him unfairly? Sure, it was true, but he mentioned that he'd checked him for weapons.
So, did that mean he found one of Allen's guns? And if so, how had he reacted to it? Did he get in trouble? There must have been some kind of problem, since Allen had stolen a car before moving here from New York. "...Hey. About what you told me...—"
"-I don't like to talk about it." He interrupted, and then shoved his face into a pillow.
From your spot at his desk, you sauntered up to his bed. "But it's only me," You pressed, staring down at his back. By now, his face was buried in a pillow, his arms clinging onto it as he laid on his chest. "When that police officer checked you for weapons, did he find one of your guns?"
He groaned, and eventually responded, "Nope. Hate to admit it, but I was lucky. It's not like I was out shooting people though, so it wouldn't even be a problem. I still can't stand that dude."
He wasn't himself tonight. Normally he'd be all over you—either intimately or comfortingly. When you snuck out at night to see him, you never knew what to expect: sex or an evening full of talking and laughing.
Tonight was neither. He was sulking on his bed, mostly likely planning revenge on that cop. It was clear by how distracted he was, and it was embarrassing to admit—but you could also tell by his total lack of attention on you. He was—almost—ignoring you.
With a sigh, you plopped down on his mattress. Or, more like, completely sat on his legs to snap him out of it. "You always talk about your guns... and yet you've never shown me. I was just wondering, uh..." You trailed off, unsure of how to ask.
He raised his head a bit, aware of the fact that you were playfully straddling his back. "You what? I didn't hear you. Dollface, you mumble a lot."
Frowning, you lightly punched his upper back with your fists and growled, "Show me your guns, dammit." ...It wasn't like what you said reminded you of your old friend Lovino from back in pre-school.
He chuckled, and shifted positions. His movement from laying on his stomach caused you to slide off his back and fall awkwardly to a corner of the bed. "Hey—" You began to protest.
"-Cool. You'll love them." He quickly reached under his bed and pulled out a large gray storage box. It appeared to be heavy, because he struggled to place it on top of the mattress. "...Here they are~ they're my children so be motherfucking careful."
You thought he was joking. But from his face expression, he was not. "Well, look if you wanna look." He'd pulled off the lid.
After taking in a deep breath, you leaned forward and peered into the huge container.
...What, was this guy planning to join the army?
You didn't know a whole lot about guns, but from what you saw, every gun you'd ever seen in every action movie was there. Every single type of gun for all you knew. Handguns, shotguns, rifles, muskets, pistols, not to mention a fucking grenade, knives, a samurai sword (did Zao give him that?), and countless boxes of extra bullets. "...Wow," You exhaled, heart pounding.
"Beautiful, aren't they?" A wicked smile was on his lips as he gazed at the collection lovingly.
You'd never seen him look at you like that before. "Allen..."
"Yeah?" He still hadn't torn his love-struck stare away from the weapons yet.
You didn't feel... entirely safe. Were those things loaded? Stuffed together like that, what if one accidentally went off? Did he have any other bombs in there? This... this couldn't be legal. There was no way his dad knew about this. "I don't, uh..." You slowly crept away, "I don't think I wanna be here..." You murmured quietly.
At that, he looked back up in an instant. "What—why? Dollface, you know I'd never point one of these monsters at you. Why are you backing away?" He shoved the box to the side, "Come here. Hey, come here." His eyebrows furrowed with concern, "Are you okay? D-Don't leave..." And don't abandon me, you knew he was thinking.
"I..." Your eyes shifted nervously between he and the storage box of guns. You were on the very edge of the bed, tempted to run out the door.
The distress in his crimson eyes made your heart crack. How could you make him feel this way? You'd hurt him. You didn't know if you could forgive yourself for that. "Dollface, please..." He begged, cautiously reaching out for you.
Allowing him to grab your arm, you let him drag you back down to lay with him. He pressed you to his chest and you instinctively snuggled up to him as he explained, "You're my whole world now, _____. You're all that keeps me from going insane. I can't lose you, dollface." He pressed a kiss to your temple, "I need you in my life... got it?" He wrapped his arms even tighter around your body and chuckled, "...After all, you can't escape me~"
You weren't sure if that last sentence was serious or not. "...Okay," You agreed.
For some time after that, you laid there, curled up with Allen.
"Your dad might be home soon... you should turn off that light." You warned, indicating the bedside lamp.
He did as he was told. Cuddling in the dark, he brought up, "Y'know... our nights won't always be like this,"
You felt saddened by the reminder, "I know."
"So that's why, I've been thinking..." He paused, slightly nervous. "Me and you. We need a plan."
"To do what?"
"To escape."
Your breath hitched. You knew exactly what he was talking about.
"Cliche as it sounds, we run away together. No more Henry, no more Lauren, no more of my excuse for a father. You, me, and the little president take off to live on our own. We could make it—I know we could."
This way, there would be no more hiding. No more sneaking around.
At first thought, the idea seemed wonderful.
You couldn't stand living with Henry and Lauren anymore. They were heartless, cruel, horrible. And Allen said you could take Peter with you? That... just about covered everything. It felt like he was the only reason why you were still with them. You couldn't let Henry or Lauren harm your little brother, and that was why you stayed.
But... what would Alfred think about something like that? What if he heard from his dad or Henry that you had gone missing...? How much would that destroy him?
...Alfred wouldn't tell, would he? That you were dating Allen?
Surely if he did tell your foster parents, they would know he was at fault. Especially if Allen left without telling his own father. It would be easy to put the pieces together, and they'd come look for you. Well, mostly Peter. And then they'd probably never let you go near Allen again.
Of course, this was if you got caught.
You thought more about Alfred. You knew for a fact that he wouldn't approve of this idea; he'd get angry at you simply for thinking about it.
You'd had feelings for him for the past three years. If you left without telling him... well, he would never know.
Allen had completely distracted you from him. Honestly, you missed Alfred—much more than you thought. You couldn't help but think of him as Allen kissed you and pulled off your clothes in the dark. "Just us... no parents... How great would that be?" Allen pressed his lips to your bare chest.
Your mind was somewhere else.
What did Alfred think of you? What would he think of you? And most importantly... would you always stay his best friend?
The string of thoughts brought on a flashback.
...It was freshman year in high school.
One Saturday, you had gone to see your biological dad in—as expected—a rather shady neighborhood.
You were shocked that Henry and Lauren had even allowed you to visit him, so you weren't too bothered. After all, you hadn't seen him since you were taken into foster care.
You'd heard that he had relapsed. You wanted to try and convince him into staying sober.
Unfortunately, you'd picked the wrong day to see him.
When the local bus dropped you off at his place, he hadn't answered the door. It was open, so you walked inside.
He hadn't remembered that you were coming. He was piss-drunk and clearly 'on something'. Wow—so he'd became a drug addict too?
He didn't see you come in. You weren't sure if you should stay. The problem was, none of the local buses would be coming by for a while. Both Henry and Lauren were out of town for work. You were trapped here.
Worried and with no one to talk to, you called Alfred. "I have no way home!" You told him.
He'd been at football practice across town. "Has he said anything to you?"
Not yet. But, you had seen what the horrors of alcohol had done to your father. It was because of it that the public authorities said he could no longer take care of you. His drinking was out of hand, and the last time he was drunk in front of you, he almost started abusing you. It was terrifying and you couldn't bring yourself to face him. With the added substance of drugs, you knew you couldn't let him see you. "No. I'm so out of here." You told Alfred as you walked right back out.
"Then what are you gonna do? I heard that neighborhood's... not so nice." He meant to say, 'ghetto as fuck'.
"I'm gonna try to walk ho—"
"-No freakin' way! Your house is too far and someone's gonna shoot you!" Indeed, the people around here looked kind of dangerous.
"I know... maybe I should just hide until—"
"-Are you safe right now?"
You were in the alley between your father's apartment building and another. This place appeared to be abandoned. "Yeah but—"
"-Stay right there. Don't move. You hear me? Don't move and STAY RIGHT TH—" The line went dead.
Maybe his phone died. But, why did he want you to stay here?
It was getting dark. What were you to do?
You noticed a liquor store across the street. Maybe someone over there could tell you when the next bus was coming by.
You spent the next fifteen minutes there asking people for a schedule. But, only nice people. Still, no one knew the times.
"I'm so screwed..." You thought as you walked back outside to the alley. Alfred had told you not to move, but he was just being protective, wasn't he...?
You felt your heartbeat quicken as a group of older teenagers noticed you crossing the street. They were males, and staring at you as you walked. What could they possibly want...?
"Hey girl... what'cha doin' there?"
Ignore them, you told yourself. Ignore them.
More of them started calling out to you. One after another. You were breathing so hard that you couldn't make out what they were saying—nor did you want to. It sounded like they were trying to get you over there. You stayed in your alley, but it wasn't long until they walked over to you themselves. "What, are you trying to hide from us~?"
They were wearing black bandannas, silver jewelry, and sleeves of tattoos. You didn't want anything to do with them. "Please stay away from me—"
You didn't get to finish the sentence. As they advanced, a car roared down the alley.
"...The fuck? Someone tell that motherfucker to slow down—" They glared towards the racing vehicle, until they realized it was headed straight for them, down the long alleyway. "...Well shit, are they tryna run us over or wh—"
The car didn't stop. The group was momentarily blinded by headlights. You gasped, and started running. No matter what, it didn't look like you could escape the car. It was going to smash the entire group to the dirty ground.
The group of delinquents/ gangbangers/ stoners or WHATEVER the hell they were ran faster than you. Twice did you almost get trampled by them in their hurry to escape the nearing vehicle.
Once they turned a corner to safety and dashed off to escape the streets... the car immediately stopped.
You were almost around the corner when you suddenly heard your name.
"...AM I YOUR HERO OR WHAT?!"
You stopped dead in your tracks. That voice sounded like... and that phrase... and your name...
No.
ALFRED HAD NOT DRIVEN A CAR HERE AND CHASED OFF A BUNCH OF GHETTO SAVAGES?!
He jumped out of the vehicle, clad in his football jersey. "I knew they'd escape eventually, and you'd be left here. Don't worry! I wouldn't have ran you over! I'm not THAT bad at this driving thing yet!"
You were still in shock. "...ALFRED, YOU DON'T EVEN HAVE YOUR PERMIT?!"
He'd been at football practice. He didn't have his permit, much less license, even more less a car, for fuck's sake, he was only fourteen, and—
"So are you mad that I saved you?"
His question made all horrors of his actions cease in your mind. You weren't supposed to be horrified of what he did. He'd done it for you; he did it only because he thought you were in trouble. You were in trouble. "...No. Of course not. Thank you..." But he could get in a lot of trouble, too. "Whose car is that?"
As if just barely realizing HOW ILLEGAL this was, he explained in a mumbled rush, "Uh well I wanted to protect you and my parents are on vacation so they couldn't help and I was at football practice so I kinda left and jumped into a senior's car since he left the keys in his gym bag and drove over here because I've driven a golf cart once and thought it was basically the same thing, it wasn't but I was good enough not to get pulled over and—OOF!"
He was cut off by your hug-tackle. "-Alfred... I can't believe you did all that for me. Thank you so much!"
Almost knocked over by the force of your embrace, he sighed and held you tightly. "I-I guess I justlikeyouthatmu—er I mean, you're s-special enough to me, y'know...?" His skin suddenly felt warm.
"Yeah... I guess..." You continued to hug him, pressing your cheek to his collar bone. You'd been too caught up in what he'd just done for you than to hear his reason.
He nuzzled his face into your hair, breathing hard. "...Dude, I'll always be your hero—and I promise to keep you safe from those villains."
It was in that time that you began to fall hard for Alfred.
...Would he ever tell anyone about what you were doing with a gun-obsessed ex-con?
A.N.: ...So would he?
I miss writing Alfred. The flashback wasn't enough ;-; I think he should make an official reappearance soon, dudes. But what would Allen think?
Review if you want... T_T