Punished

TW: death, murder

Just let me sleep. Why are you guys so loud? Through half-opened eyelids, I could see the grey-bricked wall and uneven cement. A figure passed at the corner of my sight, walking behind the grilled gate that connected the walls of the small room. Heavy breaths escaped from the tiny slit of my mouth. The smell of wet soil and grass lingered through the air. My body struggled and strained to hold itself up from the ropes on the leaking ceiling. Water soaked the ropes that were digging into my wrist, burning the abrasion that had left an impression on my skin. The pain didn’t bother me anymore. I just needed sleep.

“Did he eat? Drink?”

“Nope. For a boy who hasn’t eaten in two weeks, he sure is being cocky about the food we give him.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t feed him at all, it saves us money and trouble.”

“But Boss doesn’t wanna give him up yet. It’s been five years since he threw him away and he still ain’t coming to pick him up. Hell, he ain’t even visiting the boy.”

“Hey, let’s beat him up again, maybe that will make him eat.”

The holes of the gate were covered by two men, talking about me and how troublesome I am. But, it’s not my fault. I am quiet, I don’t fight back, I behave. What more do they want? The blonde-haired man that was here before them told me if I ate the food, he would beat me up. I still get hurt, no matter what I do. 

“Hey boy, we’re gonna come in and beat you up, how about that?” One of them hit the grill with the keys and leaned into the gate holes. They came in regardless of my response, untying the ropes and each taking turns to kick and punch me from the shins to my stomach till I went down. The beating did not stop even though I had reached my limit. However, if I stay quiet, I might not be punished even more, right? This is good. It is even better than yesterday’s. Less pain. No blood. Good improvement. 

I hear footsteps walking into the dimly-lit corridor and the Men turned around in an instant. The Leader, probably, seeing from how the Men panicked at the mere sight of him and was hanging me up in the previous position in a hurry, had a phone in his hand, and was conversing with a guy called Richard Peterson. I know this, because it’s always ‘Hello, Mr. Peterson’ or ‘Wonderful morning isn’t it, Peterson?’ whenever he calls. Not to mention, the group of guards who were always talking about him. Not much good news about him, though. The most common phrase was ‘Damn that shitty Richard Peterson’.

The Men proceeded to leave with the Leader after locking the cell and they took the only source of warmth I had. Although, I’m already accustomed to the lightless void that had been with me since I was twelve years old. I could not make the gruesome monsters or the creatures of the dark in my head go away. Those were my friends. They did not hurt me or scare me. Instead, I have learned to make conversation with them. Apparently, they do not like the Men because they bring the light. I tell them I do not like the Men because they bring me pain and then we both laugh. In reality, I do want the Men to return as I do not want to be alone. I hear the stories of the world above from the Men and how they have families like how I used to have. I hear them making plans to go to the waterfalls or the zoo with their little ones. I went with my mother five years ago right before I was brought here. Has it changed? My mother often reminded me of the freedom I once had. I was oblivious to why I was separated from her but she wasn’t. She didn’t put up a fight and let me be taken away. I couldn't blame her. She had her hands tied up behind her back.

I want to see her again so badly. I want to fight back but I fear for my life. They could kill me in here and the only reason I am not already dead is because of Richard Peterson. He provides the food and water for me. He calls and gives the Men orders. He  runs this underground palace of stench and dirt. If only I could run away but my weak self would not even reach the gates. I wouldn’t even dare try it. They would punish me again. The only thing I can do now is be a good boy and be silent.

My thoughts were interrupted by heavy strides followed by illumination and conversation. It persisted into the room, along the corridor and halted in front of me. Directing my attention to their voices, I could pick up certain obvious words. Peterson. Kill. Him. They want to kill him? But why? He is a good man. He has given me food and water and he is the reason I am still alive.

“Why kill him? We can just let him die here and we leave.”

The Leader unlocked the gate and approached me. “Boy, how are ya feelin'?”

I let out a slight groan. I had no energy to speak.

“Good good. So, bad news, we gotta head out. Turns out ya old man, Mr. Peterson-”.

“You sure ya wanna tell him about his dad.” 

“He is gonna die anyway, Jack, might as well let him know, alright.” The Leader sounded uneasy, as if a load was being weighed on his shoulders. “You see, boy, ya old man, Mr. Peterson, said to let you go and you know what that means, right?”

My head shook, saliva dripping from my lips. My mother had told me my father died in a car accident. The thought that my father was the one keeping me alive gave me hope that I couldn’t quite understand the rest of the conversation. I could find him and take him to Mother. I wouldn’t have to be alone here anymore and it won’t be so dark anymore. I won’t have my friends anymore. There will be plenty of food and water everyday and the light will always be there. In the midst of my daydream, I could feel the blood-stained ropes writhing into my wrists. 

The desire to be happy was so extreme that my body was shaking from it. The ropes dug in deeper to the already forming cut as I twisted my hands in an effort to break free. The Men became alert and reached for the side of their belt. I felt a blow to my stomach and I tasted the iron in my mouth. The saliva was now mixed with blood as it dripped. I craned my head and my eyes caught the fist of the Leader coming straight at me. 

“You two, get over here and untie this piece of shit.”

The Men rushed over and did what was commanded of them. I messed up. I didn’t realize I was doing something wrong. I should’ve been silent and not move and now I’m being punished. I do want to see my Father and Mother. They would want to see me, too. Father would be thrilled if he saw how good I have been. I have to show him I’m a good boy. As the ropes started to loosen against my skin, my body fell, landing knee-first into the cold, stone floor. My face fell second and the sensation of pain on my knee, neck and jaw was slowly rising. Another slight sensation was felt at the corner of my ribs. I could hear the Men muttering words like ‘moving’, ‘dead’ and ‘leave’. My arms and legs twitched. My palms turned to face the floor and pushed me onto my knees.

“Take me out of here, scumbags.”

“I could just kill you now, boy. No one’s gonna know. Even ya damn father wouldn’t care”. The Leader pulled out his gun and aimed it at me. “Stop being a bother to everyone, lie down and die like a good boy.”

I looked up to see the gun inches away from my forehead. I caught his foot and dragged him down with immense effort. I could feel my muscles burning and the cracks of my bones sounding from the quick movement. His head hit the floor hard. Grabbing the gun that fell from the Leader’s hands, I knocked out both Men while on my knees, almost falling on my back. Tired, I searched the Leader’s unconscious body for his phone and scrambled towards the unlocked gate. 

Fortunately, there were less contact numbers on the phone. I browsed through to get to the letter R as I ran across the bare grounds that I think used to be a school. I was confused as to how I ended up in a school ground as I climbed up the brick staircase.  Careful not to trigger the guards that might be surrounding the area, I ran far. I discovered a town and hid in an alleyway as people started to notice the blood streaks on my face. My vision was blurry and my head pounded with every beat of my heart. I found Richard’s name and clicked on it. A few rings went on until the line was connected.

“Hey, He-..., Richard.”

“Who is this? Who are you?”

“Dad, Dad, hi.” The words I uttered were a mixture of shaky breaths and nervous mumbling. “I’m coming to see you.”

The line disconnected after I heard him gasp. Bad reception, I guess? I checked the phone again to uncover any sort of information that could lead me to Father. Seconds after examining each application, I found his address in the Notes application and immediately proceeded to his house.

I will knock on the door and he will open it, then we will go to Mother’s house. I said to myself as my knuckles made contact with the wooden door. It opened at once and a round, black-bearded person approached. The smell of gravy and meat wafted through the air as we stood at the entrance. Richard was inspecting me with a strenuous look. He gave me a pat on the shoulder and ushered me into the room, passing the hall and living room to the intended destination, the dining room. The table had been set and Richard had seated himself in the chair facing two little girls and a beautiful, blonde woman. The seat next to him was left empty, in which he rested his hand on it and looked at him.

“Have a seat, son.”

Giddy that he called me son, I rushed to him and sat down as well. Little nods I gave to the females were reciprocated politely and silently. They then proceeded to dine. I turned to my Father who had already begun chewing the food. 

“I was more or less twenty years old when I met your mother. Many men fawned over her. She wasn’t very bright. And so desperate for a husband that she trusted me to give her that ideal life, the one with a child, a loving, doting husband and a nice house”. 

He went on telling his story. I listened, using my fork to make circles around the plate. I wanted to hear about my mother from his perspective. He must’ve loved her very much.

“She was loved and doted on for twelve years. And as you can see, she did bore a child, you, the living evidence,” he continued, cutting up his food into little pieces. “However, she was so irritating. Talked about marriage and whatnot. A complete witch of a woman.”

His ramblings had included short pauses and the sound of light drizzles on the large window. I looked over to my right and noticed the females had been eating in silence as well, there was no whispering or giggling like how I thought girls ought to be. Although, the older lady did seem a little frightened. Her pupils shifted from her plate to Richard constantly. The girls took tiny silent mouthfuls and forced down their bites. Was this how family dinners were? Mother was always so cheerful. Coughs and choking gasps reached my ear, followed by three consecutive thuds. My eyes traced the two little bent over bodies on the table.

“They’re dead. I added in my own secret ingredient when Marie wasn’t looking as I set the table.” He leaned under the table and gestured with his fork towards Marie’s lifeless body that fell to the floor. “Don’t worry. This was a lot less painful than the death your mother suffered.”

I could feel my mouth quivering. I looked down, blurring out the dead bodies that now seemed to be in the distance. My hands balled into fist, digging its nails into my palms to keep myself from shivering. Every word that came out from his mouth was floating in my mind, bumping into each other.

“Act like a witch, die like a witch. So, I burned down the house with her in it. Just to keep her mouth shut. You see, you were not supposed to be born. You were a mistake. And mistakes should be erased.”

I looked at him in disbelief. He is my Father. He killed Mother and his voice showed no remorse. No regret. I came out of that hellhole to get you and reunite with Mother. Now, she is dead. What should I do now? He just killed these three girls like it was nothing. 

“Come on, Alistair. Think about it. Why should I be punished for you being conceived? It’s you who should be punished, am I right? You are in the wrong, don’t you think so?”

Yes. I was. I was in the wrong. I did not behave. That is why Mother was killed. It was because I was alive. These poor girls are dead because of me. Wait. Am I going to be punished? My mind was racing with so many thoughts and questions that I failed to notice Richard shifting from his chair. He sat on the table in front of me with his right leg on my chair. His left hand rested on my head, ruffling through my hair as his right hand was busy positioning his gun at the side of my head.

“You should’ve eaten the food.”

“What would you do after giving me my punishment?”

“Oh well, easy, I just do what I did when I killed your mother, start a new life, get a new wife, have a new family... I have a respectable status in this town, my boy, and I cannot let you ruin it.”

Pushing him aside, I brought out my gun and pulled the trigger. The sound of the gunshot was disguised within the composition of lightning and thunder. Richard’s chest was colored red as the bullet lodged itself inside. The blood spread rapidly around the wound, bringing Richard to his knees. He dropped, his face to the floor and gun still in hand. Immobilized, he strained to get up but his efforts were in vain. He bled on as I witnessed him struggle just as he did my mother. With the gun in my hand, I ran out of the house.

Coming here always made me think of how my life was and how it shouldn't be. Separated from family, forced into isolation and deprived of love and affection was not what life was supposed to be. Nevertheless, that was how I lived. Fear of being punished. Fear of doing something wrong. Or right. Fear of dying. Crouching, I placed the bouquet down on the tombstone that read ‘Eleanor Goode’. Clasping my hands together, I whispered a silent prayer.

“I threw away the gun, Mother. In the nearest bin I could find that rainy night. Started a new life, got me a wife and a family, kept your last name too. Alistair Goode, real catchy, isn’t it? The people at work love cracking up jokes like ‘Hey Goode, you’re feeling good today?’. Kinda like being called good. The Richard problem solved itself. I’m not in trouble. The police suspected that Richard Peterson committed murder on his own family, poisoning them, and then committing suicide from the guilt. Everything is good now.”

Standing up, I took hold of my son’s and wife’s hand who had accompanied me to the graveyard on my Mother’s death day. The both of them smiled sadly at me as we walked to the car. I don’t feel like I’m being punished. Maybe, I did do something right.