17. From the Beginning

17

FROM THE BEGINNING

LESTER

TWENTY-SIX YEARS AGO ― July 20th, 1949

A tear slips past my cheek as my crayons and pencils are swept off the dinner table, landing on the ground with a loud crash. A few of them break in half, and my nose sniffles as I try to hold in my cries.

They were a gift from my gran. She's dead now.

If I show my father my cries, he will get even more mad. So I say nothing as I sink to my knees to pick them up, one by one placing them back on the table.

But he doesn't accept that.

"A goddamn waste of space is what you are," he spits with disgust as he kicks me in the ribs like a dog.

This time, I do cry out. Loudly.

And just like I knew he would be, he's scarier now. Angrier.

"Just fucking useless," he goes on. "Always drawing those ugly pictures. I don't know what to do with you anymore. It's a good thing I have two of you. At least Landon will make me proud."

Never show weakness, is what Landon always tells me when he tends to me after our father is done. But I'm never brave enough. Father always knows where to hurt me well.

Once he has crushed most of my crayons with his shoes and ripped up the drawing I was making, he disappears into his office, the door slamming shut behind him with a loud bang .

I run to the bedroom that me and Landon share and I hide underneath the covers until he comes home from his chess game. He is the smart one of us two, which is why he is the favorite. He's gonna make it in the world, Father always says. And I'm just rotten.

I'm the reason Mother died.

I ripped her apart like a demon when I was born. That's what he tells me time and time again.

They couldn't stop the bleeding.

My fault.

"Hey, brother," Landon says with a quiet voice. I hear the bedroom door softly close behind him, then the sound of his squeaky shoes. "Are you still up?"

I stay still, because I have to hold my tears back again. I don't want to ruin his day. But he knows me too well. He knows that I'm not sleeping.

He takes off his shoes, then climbs underneath the covers of the lower part of our bunk beds. He has a flashlight in his hand and he clicks it on to look at my face. "Did he hurt you again?" he whispers.

I only nod.

"One day, we will get out of here. And it will all be okay," he promises.

I suck my lower lip into my mouth, trying to stop it from wobbling. "Did you win?" I ask quietly.

"Of course I did." The grin on his face is smug. "And I won a hundred dollars. Can you believe it?" He takes the crisp bill out of his pocket and holds it in front of my face.

I smile. "Good job, brother."

He pats me on the shoulder before he disappears from under the covers, grabbing an envelope from underneath the mattress. It's where we keep our joined savings, for when we're old enough to escape this place.

He puts the bill inside, then slides it back under. "Never forget the goal," he says. "One day, we'll have made so much that we can leave. I'll keep doing the chess tournaments and I'll get better. They pay well. And tomorrow after school we'll go to the art supply store in the city, okay? Pick you up some new crayons."

He's only ten, just like me. Only twenty minutes older, but it always feels like he is the big brother taking care of me.

Father is already training him to become just like him and work in politics, because Landon is advanced for his age. He could do it very well.

I would be sad if he became like our father. I hope he will always be the same.

I hope he will always be my brother.

"Want me to read to you? Pick up where we left off yesterday?" he asks, and I nod with an eager smile as he picks up the paperback of A Murder is Announced by Agatha Christie.

Every night we take turns in reading a chapter out loud while the other relaxes. Today is my turn, but I'm happy that he takes over without me having to ask.

He always knows what I need.

I don't know where I am. The room is dark, the walls are black, and there are only a few dimmed lights on.

I'm scared.

I was yanked out of bed by Father a few hours ago, then two men who I've never seen before pushed me in the back of a van and took me here.

Father told me that it was time I made myself useful.

I don't know what he meant by that.

I remember that Landon was screaming when they took me away. And for the first time ever, my father hit him instead of me. Somehow, that hurt me even more.

Landon didn't cry. He only ran after the van when we drove away.

I got so tired after a while that I could no longer open my eyes, and I woke up here, in this scary room. All alone.

There are loud noises coming from outside. Music and people talking and chanting. I think I even hear people moan.

Closing my eyes, I try to focus on the sounds. It's all too much. Too many different things blaring against one another.

Then another sound gets added. Loud crying.

The door opens, and a scream sounds through the room as a little girl is dropped to her knees before the door closes with a loud slam.

I stand up and run over to where she lays on the floor. A tiny girl with pigtails in her blonde hair, with pink bows tied around it.

"Who are you?" I grab her softly by the shoulders to soothe her like Landon always does with me.

"Rosemary," she answers, her voice shaky and scared. Her eyes are a bright shade of blue, and she's wearing a white dress with puffy sleeves.

"I'm Lester," I tell her as I help her off the floor, leading her to the corner of the room where I was hiding before she came in. "Do you know where we are?"

She shakes her head as we both sit down. "No. My daddy was playing a game, and he lost. Then those men started to laugh and Daddy told me he was sorry. A strange man grabbed me by the arm and then I was here."

I swallow. "What kind of game? Do you know?"

"Poker, I think." There's a small pause before she cries out, "I'm scared."

The way her lower lip wobbles reminds me of how I used to do that.

I haven't done that in a long time. Not for two months.

She weeps while we sit there in the dark, and I hold her hand and move my arm around her shoulder. We stay that way until the door in the back of the room opens and we get separated.

I try to hold onto her hand, but it's yanked away when a large man picks her up from the ground, while another one does the same to me. We get carried through a long hallway and we scream until each of us is dropped inside a different room.

I don't know about her, but there is a man in my room with an evil smile on his face. He laughs like a demon as he stalks closer to me.

"My prize," he says in a tone that matches his scary face. "I won, fair and square. Now it's time to collect."

By the time the night is over, I know what he meant by that.

I was the prize.

My innocence was.