Page 14 of Dark Time

I couldn’t hold the image because I’d start to cry, and he didn’t need that right now. How different our childhoods had been. Mine had been cold, maybe full of burdens, but nothing like … his. Fuck.

“In between all of that, my father took care of me. He fed me, washed my clothes, and made sure I was clean before I went to school. He made me birthday cakes and bought me Christmas presents. He mended my clothes when I’d mess them up. He took me to the doctor and on school trips. At the same time, he kept working, providing, and he must have been one very tired man, but he never complained. He just kept on loving us.”

He looked down at me, and for a moment he smiled. “You’re so pretty, Emily, do you know that?”

I could see that tender Dylan again, the one from the cabin, and my heart fluttered. I smiled back at him, and he repositioned his head on the arms he’d placed behind his head.

“She’d often try to take out her rages on me, but Dad would always keep her away from me. She’d become obsessed with this idea that she’d ruined my father’s life and that I had ruined hers. She’d done everything on purpose, but somehow it was my fault that her life had changed. I hadn’t asked her to birth me, and I certainly didn’t have a say in the matter, but that’s how she thought. Eventually, she came to the conclusion that if she killed me, my father would be free of both of us. That’s when Dad really should have had her put away.”

Fucking hell, I thought, surely his Dad hadn’t made him live with her then?

“I’d wake up at night and hear her raving at the walls.”

Fuck, his dad had made him live through that then. Dammit, man, what were you thinking? I didn’t say it. I just kept quiet. He started to stroke my hand that had gone still on his stomach, and I started to stroke him again.

“I like that, keep doing it.”

I kissed his shoulder and stroked away.

“So yeah, she started really going bonkers about the time I turned thirteen. She’d always had this thing where she’d break every dish in the house and scream the night away, but it turned into her trying to bang her way through the walls so she could get at me. Dad would hold her down on their bed, just to keep her from destroying the house. He’d force a sleeping pill down her mouth, and the house would go quiet, but I always wondered if she’d ever wake up without him knowing. I doubt he actually slept at all that last year.”

Another shaky breath and Dylan carried on.

“She’d been so bad about breaking dishes that we only had plastic bowls, cups, and plates in the house. Even the cutlery was plastic after a while. She’d destroyed every picture frame, statue, and house plant he’d ever put into the house. Paintings would be ripped to shreds, and vases would just become projectiles. He brought her home flowers often, but when he caught her using the damn things to beat me, he stopped buying them for her.”

“Jesus, Dylan!” I couldn’t help that, but thankfully he didn’t stop. He needed to tell me this, and so much of his life now make sense, but I’d think about all of that later. For now, I listened.

“She wasn’t always bad, though. Sometimes she’d smile at me, make me a sandwich, or cut my hair. Sometimes she’d tell him how much she loved him, and how he was the only thing that mattered to her. She really did love him. Me? I still don’t know. Her actions said otherwise, but then, she wasn’t sane, was she?” He swiped at his face, then put his hand back behind his head.

“She’d have these phases where she’d look okay for a few days, maybe even weeks sometimes, and then, it would be screaming fits every night, rage that would make her break things during the day, and then more screaming at night. We lived out in the country, and Dad had learned being anywhere near neighbors was a bad idea, although we had a few about half a mile up the road. They came that night…”

His entire body shivered, and I just held him close.

“She’d been really bad, worse than normal, and Dad had sent me to bed to try to deal with her. Seeing me made it worse, and I’d learned to hide in my room to keep her calm. I’d even climb into my bedroom window sometimes, so she wouldn’t see me come home from school. Dad never said anything about it, but he somehow knew when I was home. He probably heard the school bus drop me off, now that I think about it.” He kind of laughed a little, but there was still a dark note to it.

“That last night she’d been raging, accusing him of cheating, even though he didn’t have time for an affair. The furthest Dad had ever gone out of the house at night was to his shed, where he fooled around with HAM radio stuff. Everything went quiet suddenly, and I’d started to think it was over, but I should have known better.”

He breathed in and out for a few minutes, before he could go on.

“Dad got her calm, somehow, and I peeked out of the bedroom door. They were on the couch. She turned her head just as I stuck my head out, and I could see that evil in her face. She was calm, but she had something up her sleeve. I decided to read, to try to stay awake, but when she came in my room, I pretended I was asleep.”

This time the pause was much longer, and I thought that maybe he wouldn’t go on. That he’d come to a point where he couldn’t say anything else. I bit my lip, pulled it in between my teeth to keep from saying anything, to stop my impulse to prod him, and stroked his stomach instead.

I started to wonder if he’d fallen asleep and jumped when he started to speak.

“Hours passed, and everything was quiet. I’d seen that threat in her face, that look that always said she was up to something, but Dad must have missed it. And somehow, he’d gone to sleep, but Mom was still awake, but I didn’t know that yet. I thought he must have been out in his shed when I realized she was still up. That never happened, Dad going to sleep before her. Dad always made sure she took her pills, because eventually one stopped working and she had to take more, different ones, to get to sleep. But Dad always made sure she was asleep before he went to bed. He must have gotten too complacent, because she was awake that night, and he wasn’t.”

Another sip of water and he carried on.

“When she came in to my room, I pretended I’d fallen asleep with the light on. I didn’t want her to see my eyes. Something scared me about her that night, and I just wanted her to go away. She didn’t leave, though. She came up to me and stroked my hair until I opened my eyes. I didn’t say anything, I just watched her. She started to speak.”

His voice shook, but he managed to keep going.

“‘I’ve always loved you, baby boy. You gave me your father, but it’s time now. It’s time to end his infidelity, and to make sure you never leave me either. Sleep well, my boy. Mommy loves you.’ That’s what she said to me just before she started to pour a gallon of gasoline on the walls of my room and on the floor.”

“Fuck … Dylan, stop…” I’d heard the terror in his voice, and I wanted it to stop.

“No, let me go on, Emily. I have to tell you this now, or I may never tell you.”