Chapter 12: Part Four

Day Four

Nine seconds from the time David could hear her opening the lock. Three seconds removing it, four seconds to drop in the food, which now came in plastic bags, and two seconds to slam the cap shut. She'd come twice now since their last visit, and David had been paying attention, always careful to keep quiet when he heard her. Best to let her think she was asleep, he figured. Drugged.

But he wasn't, not anymore. And it was agony when the food came. He rid himself of the water first, using it to clean the open wound at the back of his head, which seemed to be swelling more every day. At least that way some use came from it, because he couldn't, he told himself, under any circumstances, drink it. He'd hoped to find a way to eat, but even that proved difficult when there was no way of knowing what was drugged since nothing she brought him was dry. Peanut butter and jelly, tuna salad, and even slices of banana were promptly dumped and smashed in with the filth on the floor. Without the food and water, his stomach ached and his throat burned every time he coughed, and without the drugs, he was beginning to feel the ached in his body more vividly, down to every festering scrape or scratch. But, it was a good thing, he decided. A good sign. Just like the fact that he was able to walk the length of his confinement now without feeling like five steps was reason enough to take a nap.

David figured he'd wait one more day. Being hungry, he could deal with. It was more important to be ready, because after what he'd pulled with his mother, he knew that there was only one way out now. It was in the nine seconds it took her to drop food down to him, and he wasn't fool enough to think it would be easy. He'd have to jump, take her by surprise before she slammed the door shut. He'd most certainly be at a disadvantage, and as of yet, there seemed to be no pattern of when she'd be coming. Since he had no idea what day it was, let alone how long he'd been down there, he couldn't even make a guess. So he'd have to be alert, make sure to rest after she came. Which, is what he intended to do now with his empty stomach as he held one hand over the flame of his lighter, and then the other, taking what warmth he could from it before leaning back against the back wall and closing his tired eyes. Which, were about to snap right back open.

"Are you there, David?"

David was quick to his feet as he opened his mouth to respond to his brother, but suddenly stopped and thought it over for a moment. His mother had just been there, and if she was still around, he'd have to watch what he said. He thought it was more likely that Oliver had just followed her there, but he needed to use caution.

"Oliver... where's mom?"

It was a safe question. Oliver wouldn't have lied to him, even if Mary Martin were standing right next to him insisting on it.

"I don't know, David. I think she went back home."

"Good. Do you see the door—the lid dad welded to the cellar last year? It's locked."

"I see it, David."

"Then let me out!" David's request, which admittedly, had sounded more like a demand, was met with silence. And while David wanted to curse over it, he took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, determined to avoid losing his tempter with his brother again. "Oliver... please. Please." more silence, and David began to pace before stopping directly below the vent and looking up. "Okay... then tell me why you don't want to let me out, because I swear, I'm beginning to regret everything I've ever done for you're sorry..."

"I want to, David, but I can't."

"Why not?"

Oliver mumbled something that David didn't catch.

"You remember that conversation we had last time, about speaking up? Oliver..."

"Frank's gonna come back soon, David. I know he will," Oliver replied. "He's my friend. He promised he was my friend."

"Frank? That's all you care about?" David demanded. "You're going to pretend I don't exist for Frank?"

"No, David!" oliver said quickly. "I know the truth... I know the truth! You're my brother!"

"Then please, please help me. Oliver... help me."

"She said it's not time yet, David. She said..."

"I don't care what she said!" David shouted. "Oliver, listen to me, you've got to stop listening to mom! When are you going to get that our parents..."

"Don't do that, David. You shouldn't say bad things about them."

"Look where I am! Oliver, they're killing me! She's trying to fucking kill me! Don't you remember anything? I'm your brother... it was always you and me—you and me! You know I'd do anything for you... don't let this happen. You can't let this happen!"

"You have to wait, David!"Oliver suddenly raised his voice, and his tone suggested that he was stomping his foot, too. "She told me what you're gonna do, and you can't tell, David, or we won't be together anymore. I don't want you to get in trouble anymore, David. You are my brother... and I don't want you to get in trouble, David."

David closed his eyes, and cursed his mother. Repeatedly.

Oliver, you don't know what you're talking about... let me out. Let me out, and I promise nothing will happen to you and me. I know what to do. But you have to let me..."

"Just wait, David. Please... do what she says. Do what she says David, and then we'll be together."

"Oliver, you're wrong. She's planning to leave dad, that's why she doesn't want you talking to him about me... Oliver, she's crazy, if you listen to her..."

"I have to go now, David. I'm not supposed to be outside right now."

"Oliver!"

"I love you David. Please don't be mad at me... I just don't want you to be in trouble!"

"Oliver!" David waited a moment, listening to the sound of his brother's footsteps fading away. "Oliver! You can't listen, Oliver! Not to them! Do you hear me? They're wrong, Oliver! Remember that! They're always wrong!"

Day Seven

Without Oliver's assistance, David was forced to conclude that he'd have to stick to his original plan to escape on his own. And he'd waited for an opportunity. He'd waited as he tried to sort through renewed feelings of betrayal towards his brother, and as he thought about how to deal with it when he did get out. And he thought about it through restless nights, through the shaking, the coughing, and the constant itching he was beginning to experience from the filth water that had seeped into his wounds. And, he thought, he'd waited pretty damned patiently, so it was understandable that he was upset when three days later, his opportunity hadn't arrived.

At first he'd been concerned that his mother had been making her visits during the sporadic minutes he'd dozed off here or there. But then, the fact that no new food or water had made an appearance within the small space was an indicator that he was worrying about the wrong thing.

What he needed to be worried about, was that there was a possibility that she wasn't coming anymore, and he'd missed his chance. David didn't necessarily like that train of thought. Mostly, because it meant any option he might have had had completely vanished. But then, there was something even worse to think about.

Oliver. He hadn't heard from Oliver, either. There could have been any number of reasons for this, but his main concern was the one where something had happened to his brother. Maybe his father had discovered his mom's plan, and neither she nor Oliver could get to him. But then, he told himself, if Oliver was spending his time in the basement these days, then maybe he'd finally realize that their parents weren't the protectors that he thought they were and he'd come to help David at the first available opportunity. Or at least, David could hope.

Oliver was no stranger to being afraid. He hadn't escaped childhood without his fair share of nightmares, perhaps more. And he'd grown up knowing that the world he lived in during his waking hours could be equally frightening. But he'd never felt so hopelessly alone with it before. But that was because before today, he'd never really seen himself as alone. He'd had someone to watch over him, and while he'd never admitted it to his brother, Oliver got through most of his nightmares, waking or otherwise, by labeling David the thing that his nightmares were afraid of.

But now David wasn't there, and something was wrong. Very wrong, Oliver determined as he stood in the middle of a half empty room, fingering what used to be the lens of David's camera. This wasn't how things were supposed to be. His mother had promised. Promised. David had to hide for a while, she'd said. David had done some bad things, she'd said. And if Frank found out, she'd said, then Frank would go away and never come back. If Frank found out, she'd said, he'd tell someone and Oliver wouldn't have a family anymore. Of course, she'd made a point to also say that Frank wouldn't have done that because he was a bad person, but because like many people, he could get a little confused about what was right and what was wrong. To Oliver, not losing anyone who mattered to him was what was right. But now Frank was gone, and David was gone, and everything was wrong.

David should have been back by now. Frank should have been back by now. By now, his mother should have made things right and Oliver should have been telling Frank the truth about David. But frank was still angry with him, and David was most certainly angry with him, and Oliver was beginning to wonder if he should stop listening to his mother as David had told him to do. She'd promised, after all. And she'd broken it.

It was a strange feeling for Oliver, this broken promise. Familiar, although he couldn't recall very many times that his mother had fallen through like this. But maybe she had, and he didn't remember. That was unsettling to Oliver, mostly, because David had always told him that the things he couldn't remember were things that he wanted to forget. David had never forgotten David making a promise. Then again, Oliver had never forgotten David breaking one either, but he was pretty certain that that was because David never had.

And all of this obviously meant... that Oliver was currently a very confused individual.

Listen to your parents. Don't get into trouble. This was supposed to make him happy. As far back as he could remember, until recently, his family had been all he had, and he'd always done his best to please all members, despite constantly realizing that this was a goal he'd never quite achieve. But, the past week had proved to be more difficult than anything Oliver could remember happening in the past. His mother had asked him to do something unspeakable; lie to his father. The way she talked had frightened Oliver, made him afraid of his father. Most of all, oliver was afraid of what his dad would do if he found out David had been bad again.

We can't have that, Mary had said.

Oliver agreed.

And asking Oliver to lie to his dad wasn't the only thing Oliver had found strange regarding his mother. She'd seemed different lately. He was sure it had something to do with the vodka she'd been adding to her coffee every morning, but it was more than that, too. She'd yelled at him, twelve times. He'd counted, and only twice it had been about David. The other times had been for leaving the house before she woke up, or for even smaller things, like stirring his tea for too long, or taking breadcrumbs to mix in with his chicken's feed. And he felt like she was always watching.

It had been so hard to go see David. The first time, he'd followed his mother. That's how he knew where David was. When Oliver had gone on his own, his mother had interrogated him as soon as he got home. He'd told her where he'd been, and that's when she'd made her promises. Promises she hadn't kept. But she'd also told Oliver not to go back; that he couldn't talk to David. He'd gone again, though. He'd followed her there, tried to speak to his brother while his mother was on the way back to the house. He figured that if he didn't stay long, if he got there ahead of her, then she'd never know. He'd just wanted to hear David's voice. He wanted to know what he was okay. What Oliver hadn't wanted, was to hear the things that David had to say. He didn't want his brother's anger, but that was exactly what he'd walked away with three days ago. And now, after seeing his father take away David's things, after watching his mother allow it to happen, Oliver was beginning to wonder if he was looking to please the wrong people.

"Oliver, put that away," Mary Martin's voice hissed, and he jumped slightly as her hand came over his, over the glass lense. She tried to take it. Oliver frowned, held tight. "Oliver, let go!"

And he did, and she took it. He watched out of the corner of his eye as she slid it into her pocket before sighing, touching his shoulder. She opened her mouth to speak, but oliver decided to beat her to it.

"When's David coming back, mama?"

"Shh! You're father's in the other room... I already told you..."

"Why'd you let dad take all his things? They're his. You promised—you promised he'd come back so we can be a family. Tell dad to bring back David's things! Tell him David's real!"

Oliver hadn't expected the sting he felt across his left cheek anymore than he'd expected his mother to be the cause of it, but there it was, and then for a very long moment he felt... nothing. When he met his mother's eyes again, she was smiling at him, looking as if she'd been doing nothing more than standing there the whole time, as if she had expected him to... to not know it happened.

But Oliver did know, and he felt hurt, and confused, and something else, too. He felt guilty, because he was angry—furious even, with his mother. But he didn't feel guilty for feeling that way. Oliver martin felt guilty because as he thought of his brother, trapped and alone, he realized that maybe he should have felt that way sooner.

"Sweetheart, you look tired," Mary told him. "Why don't you take a short nap. I'll wake you up for dinner."

Oliver stared at her for a moment, swallowed hard, and then very slowly nodded before his mother kissed his cheek and left the room, closing the door behind her. She left him not knowing how he'd turned towards the window, eyeing it the same way David often did when he was trying to determine the quietest way to sneak out of the house, just as Oliver didn't know what she'd stopped outside the door to nervously wring her hands together.

Mary Martin had a problem, it was a choice she had to make, one she thought she already had. She couldn't live like this anymore, not knowing that the world could come burning down over her head at any moment. She'd known that it would come sooner or later, but knew for sure the moment that her son began seeing Frank Seaberg. She'd been unable to tell Oliver to stay away. He'd been too happy to have a friend, and Mary—she did love him she did care, and she couldn't take that from him. And David had used it, and the moment Frank started asking questions, well, she knew that her husband wouldn't stand for it. She could see it in his eyes when he looked at the Seabergs. They were a problem, and there was only one way her husband knew how to deal with a problem. She'd suspected that he saw Odetta Grover as a problem, but that had been different. The Seabergs weren't like Odetta Grover because if something happened to the new family in town, there'd be questions. Mary couldn't have that.

So she'd rid herself of the problem. She made David disappear. It was the only way. But then Oliver hadn't stopped talking about him, and the lie her husband told, she'd known it wouldn't last. She wanted to protect herself. She wanted to protect Oliver, and she'd known that she only had one choice left. She'd have to leave Brian. They'd be safe if they got away from him and anything he might be planning to hide the truth. Unfortunately, it had become rather clear that she couldn't do it alone. Oliver wouldn't allow that. He'd been looking at her oddly lately, with the same suspicion that had always been present in his brother's face. Mary hated that. But she'd told herself that she could fix it. She could fix it if David helped her. Oliver would be willing to leave quietly, if only David would help her. She hadn't thought it would be easy, but then again, she'd never expected David to be so stubborn. After all, she was giving him a way out. So it was a shame, she thought, that he hated her so much.

But she'd have to try again. She'd try one more time. Perhaps a few days left on his own had given David a new perspective. Or perhaps, it had made things worse. She wasn't so sure. But what she was sure of, was that sooner or later, Frank Seaberg would be back. He wasn't the type to leave things alone, and when he came back, he'd bring trouble with him. She had to get away from it. She had to get Oliver away from it, and if David wouldn't help her, then maybe... maybe she could convince Brian. She could leave him later, with Oliver. She just needed to give Oliver more time, to forget about David. Something had to work, she told herself. Something.