Chapter 10:
"Baby, nothing to be scared about. It won't hurt. It's just—"
"Can you, um, maybe n-not do this? Please," Aaron said helplessly, swallowing past that lingering acidic taste in his mouth. It was going to be very disturbing, even more so than the bath itself. "I don't need it."
"No, baby. I have to," Mommy insisted as she put a hand on the front of his shoulder and gently tried pushing him to lie back, but Aaron kept his spine rigid, refusing to move along with her guidance. He accidentally fell for eye contact with Daddy, who was standing across the room, and it was that familiar glare that quickly made him lie on his back against the flat surface of the changing table, shoulders shuddering with fear at the remembrance of the injection. Not the best time to mess with Daddy. "You're such a good boy, love. Don't worry, it's just going to keep your skin soft and beautiful."
Mommy poured a little bit of the lotion onto her hand and rubbed it between her palms, smiling at her baby as she did.
Closing his eyes, Aaron inhaled as he prepared himself for the process, but he could feel his nerves twitching. He wasn't exactly afraid of the lotion itself; the only thing worrying him was that Mommy's hand was going to stroll all over his bare skin, and unlike the bath, there wasn't going to be a washcloth—which meant absolutely no barrier. Too much touching, he couldn't tolerate it.
Aaron jerked away slightly the moment Mommy's smooth hand touched his abdomen, the cold lotion odd and ticklish against his delicate skin. He breathed out shakily and tried to compose himself, quickly returning to her touch as he thought of how inconvenient it was to disobey at that moment. Mommy smiled, proud that her baby was at least trying to behave.
She lathered the lotion across the expanse of his chest and abdomen, reveling in the softness of his skin against her hand, minding the bruises. Her hands moved to his legs and began spreading the lotion there, but then she frowned when she spotted that grim, upset look on his face. Didn't he like it?
Aaron remained resolutely still, refusing to surrender to his instinct to thrash against her hand, to hit her and jump off the changing table. He knew he couldn't do that, at least not when he'd been threatened with a horrid injection—and regardless of whether it was real or not, he didn't have the guts to challenge the captors, especially not when they had the upper hand in the situation.
"Look at this cute little knee," Mommy said as she rubbed the lotion into it, as if to lighten up his mood, but she managed to do all but that. Aaron's muscles stiffened and clenched with tension beneath her touch, but Mommy didn't budge.
Ironically, Aaron found it disturbing, yet all he could do was squeeze his eyes shut and desperately wish for it to end, for her hand to stop tainting his skin, for the humiliation to stop nipping at what was left of his dignity. He didn't know if Mommy just chose to ignore all of that or if she actually couldn't see it. If her eyes were blinded with the depth of the fantasies she created.
She let him turn onto his stomach, spreading the lotion on his back. And by the time she finished it, she hadn't let any tense spots—which she realized were too many—remain; she'd taken the opportunity to rub all the knots out of the muscles that were tense and sore beneath his skin; her fingers had moved along the slope of his back and up to his shoulders, the heel of her palm pressing gently into the skin as she'd spread the lotion.
Then Mommy was finally left with nothing but Aaron's feet, and she let him turn onto his back again. She gently rubbed the lotion into them, paying extra attention to the small scrapes and cuts on their bottom, her fingers adding slight pressure around his arches. His feet almost looked like he'd walked over broken glass. Her heart clenched at the thought. Her poor baby.
"There, love, all done. This will keep your skin so soft now." She gently held his ankle with one hand as she brought his foot nearer to her face, pressing her plump lips against its bottom afterwards and lingering, all her motherly affection displayed in that little peck.
Aaron froze and stared down his front, mouth agape with the disgust that overwhelmed him the second he sensed it: her lips against his foot, for a period longer than he had imagined. Did she not find it disgusting? Did she really not mind? He did, and he wanted it to end.
Mommy lowered his foot again and looked at him, a blissful smile brightening her face. She didn't look disgusted, that was one thing Aaron was sure of. "What is it, love?" she asked, not as if she had just willingly kissed his foot. It wasn't weird, at least not for Mommy—she didn't mind, because that foot belonged to her baby, her beautiful, innocent baby.
Aaron felt the contents of his stomach swirl queasily as he watched her. How she seemed to be in a daze, yet her eyes were trained on him and her lips were formed in a loving smile. The way she could be so creepily affectionate filled his gut with a jumble of disgust and fear. She looked like she actually loved him so much, and Aaron found that a lot more unsettling than the thought of someone hating him equally.
Daddy came in, a hooded onesie held in his hand, its color a mix of sleek black and deep blue—like the night sky—and littered with star prints all across. Both the captors carefully dressed him in it. As soon as they were done, Daddy lifted him off the table then placed him on the floor.
"Give us a minute. We'll be right back. Don't move, alright?"
Aaron nodded, watching as both Mommy and Daddy left the room, keeping the door slightly open behind. Their absence and the sudden silence that followed finally gave him time to think of everything that had happened, gave his mind the freedom to process all that he'd just been through.
The bath. The lotion. The unwanted touching. Being exposed. The disgust. The fear. The humiliation.
This was potentially the most uncomfortable he'd been in his entire life.
Aaron brushed his finger lightly across his arm, gasping inaudiblely when he felt the difference, how his skin was noticeably oily and soft. He felt like the trigger had been pulled, and suddenly he wanted to perform a breakdown, to scream loudly and shatter glass, to let out all the piling emotion he'd been forcing himself to repress throughout everything happening.
But he didn't do any of that. He fought it.
He suddenly felt his head begin to throb, piercing pangs pulsating through his temples. He tried rubbing his head, but it wasn't helping, because the pain was coming from inside—like some solidified pressure thumping against his skull furiously. His hands reached up to his damp hair and grasped tufts of it tightly, knuckles whitening with the intensity of the grip. Everything was so horrible, so terrifyingly weird. He'd never been put in such a situation. Couldn't there be anything moderate in his life? Why was it that his own father hated him, and complete strangers loved him in a way so twisted and creepy?
"Aaron?"
Aaron easily recognized that distinctively soft voice. He loosened his grip on his hair and gradually let go, arms slowly slumping back to his sides. Leo stood at the threshold with the paw of a teddy bear clutched tightly in his hand. Putting it aside, he approached and sat on his knees next to Aaron. His heart sank at how obviously sad he looked.
"Why sad?" Leo asked, eyes glistening. Aaron let out a humorless chuckle at the innocent question. There was so much he was currently sad about. "Didn't like bath time?"
Bath time, the equivalent of torture time. Of course he didn't like it. "It was horrible, Leo, horrible," Aaron confessed, his voice shaking slightly. It all came flooding through his mind again: how he had to tolerate them touching him, how he wasn't able to protest or defy. Tears formed, but this time he couldn't stop them, not when they were so hot with emotion, torturous as they scalded his eyes.
Leo saw it; a single tear drifted down Aaron's cheek and the rest jostled for freedom on his eyelids. Aaron was crying, he realized. And that was not okay. Aaron crying was not okay.
Leo curled his arms around Aaron and pulled him to his chest, hugging him without bothering to speak at all. Aaron felt like something broke inside of him, minorly because of the way Leo hugged him—like a child, in a way he couldn't even explain—and majorly because of how overwhelming and disturbing everything was. He didn't sob and scream, or at least he didn't allow himself to. He couldn't let Leo comfort him, because he was the older one. He was supposed to remain strong and manage the situation, to plan an escape and save them. But how was he supposed to be composed with all the creepy shit going on?
Aaron broke out of Leo's hold. "How do you do it? How can you tolerate all of this? How can you live with these people?"
"You don't love Mommy and Daddy, and- and Uncle Lou?" Leo said, gnawing at his bottom lip.
"They kidnapped us, Leo. They took us away from home. You're not supposed to love them. If you're brainwashed, I just- I really don't know what to do, or how to help you. But if you're acting, please stop. We have to do something. We're teenagers, we're not supposed to sleep in cribs, or use pull-ups!"
"Home?" Leo parroted, his face scrunching questioningly, like that word was the only thing he grasped from the entire speech. "Here is home."
Aaron let out a low, doleful sound from his throat. "No, Leo. No. Your other home; the one where you were treated like a teenager. Because that's what you are."
The shimmer in Leo's eyes faded at stunning sudden, and their brilliance dulled, all the passion within turning to unmistakable sadness. It was like the lights in his eyes were suddenly turned off, like one dark thought plagued their ethereal sheen. "Hate old home," he whispered, his fingers lacing together nervously. "Bad, bad place."
Aaron suddenly felt like he'd been punched in the stomach. Maybe because of the fear, because of the disorientation that came along with the situation, but he never really thought about how it must've been for Leo before he was kidnapped—what his life had been like. He had wondered about his scars before, but he'd always associated them with the captors. And now, it suddenly clicked for him how he couldn't be sure where Leo had gotten his scars from.
Neither of the two spoke for the next few minutes, each too consumed in his own thoughts. Daddy suddenly peeked into the room, and he managed to grab Leo's attention. "Daddy," Leo whispered, tottering towards him, arms held out. Daddy picked him up, his eyes darting back to Aaron; he looked distraught, but Daddy decided he couldn't stay like that forever. He was going to adapt, he was going to love them at one point. He had to.
Lou came in afterwards, brushing past Daddy and Leo as he headed towards Aaron, pitiful eyes probing him carefully. He bent down, then grabbed his underarms and lifted him to his chest, all through which he was oddly silent. Aaron wordlessly rested his cheek on his shoulder, grey eyes mindlessly regarding his jawline and neck. He didn't even have the energy to stay stiff and still, like the mental exhaustion caught up with his body, his bones suddenly sore and aching with a certain sadness.
He didn't even know which was worse: the humiliation he'd been through or how much Leo had apparently suffered. He felt bad for him, and as weird as it sounded, he wanted to protect him.
Lou stared at Aaron, worried about his sudden timid, submissive attitude. His baby wasn't usually too disobedient, but definitely not acceptant. When he shot Daddy a questioning look, he brushed him off with a dismissive shake of his head.
"Why are you so sad?" Lou asked, smoothing his palm down his baby's spine once. Aaron whimpered quietly, but he didn't do anything else—he couldn't, at least not with how mentally and physically exhausted he felt. Lou hated seeing him so upset, but he couldn't stop the warmth that spread in his chest when Aaron leant against him; he felt so proud that he didn't have to force him, that he decided to do it on his own.
Lou walked out with him and headed to the living room. "Look at what we got you, baby."
Aaron reluctantly pulled his cheek off Lou's shoulder and peeked into the expanse of the room, eyes widening when they fell upon the large pen settled in the middle, its bars long and sturdy. Playpen. He wasn't given much of a chance to protest, because Lou quickly strode across the room and began lowering him into the pen until he was plopped safely on the rug.
As soon as Lou straightened, Aaron got back up and grabbed the railing, tired eyes begging to be let out. Lou's heart sank as he gently pried his fingers off the railing, and he had to fight against actually letting Aaron out, just to satisfy those pleading eyes.
Lou quickly turned and sat on the couch nearby. Aaron gave the pen a quick survey, raising his eyebrows when he saw the spongy balls that were colored like the planets. He could easily tell which was which—he'd always loved astronomy and he'd always liked watching documentaries when he had the time and opportunity. His eyes roved further around, and he almost gagged when he saw the stupid stuffed animals and all the toys. He didn't need those. He was a teen, and he desperately wanted to be treated like one. His fingers subconsciously treaded to his cheek and began scratching frantically, leaving shallow red marks trailing behind.
Aaron turned his head towards the door when he sensed someone walking in. Mommy was suddenly at the pen, elbows resting against the railing as she watched with admiring eyes. "Oh, my baby, you're so cute," she said, hand reaching down to pinch his cheek, and it was then that she noticed the red marks on it. She sighed and reached out for a pacifier, forcing it inside his mouth. "You've been scratching yourself really roughly, haven't you? But that's bad, baby. You shouldn't."
She disappeared out of the room afterwards, but Aaron was sure she had a purpose in mind. Just minutes later, she came back with something clenched in her fist. She bent over the railing and dangled her arm down, palm put out demandingly. "Give me your hand," she said, so sternly that Aaron felt an icy chill spark through his spine. What would she want with his hand? Cut his fingers off? No, he thought. No no no. She's not that kind of violent.
Mommy grew impatient, and suddenly, she grabbed his hands and pulled light blue mittens over each, skillfully giving him no time to react. "Don't remove them, baby. Don't. I'll do that when you learn not to hurt yourself."
Aaron stared at his hands like they weren't his own. He wanted to speak, to protest, but the authoritative edge in her voice had pricked his eardrums sharply enough for him to understand that her decision was final. He decided to save his breath, because he was sure that negotiating wouldn't lead him anywhere.
He lolled his head back against the bars and closed his eyes, his exhausted brain randomly deciding to replay everything that he'd been through. Was he supposed to be thankful he wasn't being sexually or physically abused? A part of him certainly was, but then again it felt like an underestimation of the horrendous abuse he was being subjected to. Everything happening was some kind of abuse, it had to be. The bottle, the pull-up, the bath; although he found it all to be torturous, it sounded oddly humorous, ridiculous even. If he managed to escape, would police even believe him?
He snorted internally at how far his thoughts carried him. Meeting the police would follow escape, and until then.
"Use the pacifier, love," Daddy said as he bent over the railing, fingers playfully tickling his baby's under chin. Aaron's eyes shot open and he subconsciously perched aside, heart pounding at his sudden presence. His jaw slowly began moving obediently, teeth grinding the rubber in his mouth.
Daddy's expression turned from demanding to pleased in a matter of seconds, lips curling into a fond smile and dark eyes twinkling. Aaron found the way Daddy could be affected so fast with how he acted frightening, but then again, this could come to his advantage. "You have to keep using it as long as it's in your mouth, alright?"
Aaron nodded resentfully. For the next few minutes, all three captors remained silent as they stared at him in the pen, cooing occasionally at the noises he emitted while suckling at the pacifier. Aaron felt like he was an animal, exhibited for their pleasure, but then he remembered they considered him a baby, and everybody naturally liked to admire one. He didn't know which perspective was worse, but what he knew was that he felt humiliated either way.
Suddenly, he realized that somebody was missing from the equation. "Leo," Aaron whispered behind the pacifier, clutching the railing of the pen as he turned to face the captors. He had a habit of chewing the inside of his cheek when he was nervous, but his teeth subconsciously found the rubber a convenient alternative. He didn't really realize it when he began suckling harshly at the pacifier, the possibilities behind Leo's absence scaring him.
"Don't worry love, he's just sleeping," Mommy said, smiling as she thought of how cute it was that he was worried about his little brother. Aaron relaxed at the assurance and slowly sank back into his previous position, the sudden serenity finally making him realize that he'd been unawarely using the pacifier. He stopped and grimaced, wanting to spit it out, but then he remembered Daddy's threat and decided he'd rather not do anything stupid at that moment.
Aaron stretched his legs out, groaning quietly when his knees ached. The warm water had done miracles to help with the pain and the stiffness, but still, the aftermath of the misery he'd been living in couldn't be solved overnight.
Exhaustion settled in fully and his eyelids grew heavy, drooping every little while. All he wanted at this point was to sleep, but he fought the urge with all his power. He couldn't surrender to his ridiculous desires midst the chaos he was in. It wasn't the time to sleep; it was the time to stay wide alert and think of a way to escape. But there he was, mouth so wide open the pacifier dropped, teeth fully on display, a yawn he had been trying to suppress finally out.
Mommy and Daddy cooed, hearts fluttering at the sight of their baby fighting sleep aimlessly. "My baby is tired, isn't he?" Daddy asked as he bent over the pen, powerful arms stretched down to grab Aaron's underarms. He lifted him to his chest and watched as tried to keep his neck straight, but eventually lost the battle and leant his head against Daddy's shoulder. Aaron needed just a prod to sleep, but he couldn't give in.
"I think it's time to sleep, love. And I hope we can do this the easy way," he warned. "Because there's always another."