Spoken Poisons (2019)

“Hey, look what I did in art class today. See? Jasper? Look.”

Jasper Blackwell dragged his gaze away from his phone as a paper smelling faintly of cheap paints appeared just inches from his nose. With a growl he batted it aside and whipped around to shoot a fierce look at the petite boy that walked alongside him. “Callum, get your stupid paper out of my face! I don’t care.”

The smaller boy’s lips curved into a frown. He lowered his paper, smoothing it out carefully against his chest. “I just wanted to show you my picture. It’s of us— Mummy, and Dad, and you and me. The teacher gave me good marks.”

Jasper shoved past his brother and looked down at his phone again. “It looks horrible. Like someone painted it with their ass.”

Callum released a huff and scurried after him, his cat face shaped book bag bouncing against his back evenly. The wind blew back his wavy brown hair and stung his cheeks until they were rosy. “Don’t say that word, Jasper,” he tutted.

“Bite me.”

“If you do it again I’m gonna tell Mum.”

They stopped at a corner. Cars whipped past in colorful blurs, paying no mind to the actual speed limit at the intersection. Jasper leaned over his brother and pressed repeatedly on the big silver button that was supposed to change the traffic lights, even though he was certain it never actually did anything.

“What’s Mam going to do about it, huh? Yell?”

His brother puffed out his cheeks. “No…”

“Right. Stop nagging me then or I’ll kick your tiny ass into the street here.” Jasper turned away from Callum and squinted at the phone’s screen, watching as his tiny pixelated character was crushed by the in-game enemy. His brother was silent, likely mulling over the severity of Jasper’s threat. Jasper wasn’t really going to carry through with it, but it wasn’t like he’d never taken action in the past.

Once, when they were younger, he had threatened to lock Callum in the cellar and not tell anyone where he was if he bothered him again. Later that same day Callum had accidentally destroyed Jasper’s Lego project with his pillow fort. It was close to midnight and his parents were on the cusp of calling the police before Jasper had given up his brother’s location.

The crosswalk blinked, signaling that it was safe for them to walk. Jasper started up his game again and stepped out into the street. Callum hopped after him, surveying the area like a tiny secret service agent. Jasper ignored him. When they reached the turn off into the woods Jasper broke into a run, dodging the muddy puddles that dotted the dirt road, remainders from last night’s storm. The cold winter air stung his face, making him feel awake. Alive. Behind him, he heard his brother shouting for him to wait up.

“Run faster then, you wuss!” he yelled over his shoulder as he picked up his pace. There weren’t many roads that cut through the woods, and even fewer houses along them, so it wasn’t very hard to get lost. There was only one ‘Coldwater Rd.’ that wove through the woods with his address. And only a small handful of houses along that road… Jasper didn’t understand his mother’s concern that he would get hopelessly turned around on his way home from school. He was almost seventeen. He could damn well use Google maps if it came to that.

Jasper darted right at the familiar (and super hideous) bright yellow mailbox and let himself slide down the driveway. It wasn’t even paved, just loose gravel over dirt, and went at a slight decline. It was hell to drive up in the late winter when snow and ice dominated everything, as Jasper well knew from the time he’d taken the family car for an unplanned joyride.

A petite woman sharing his brother’s wavy brown hair stood on the screened-in porch, same as everyday. He slowed to a jog at the end of the decline and trotted his way over to her, slipping his phone into his back pocket. “Hi Mam.”

His mother opened the screen door and stepped out gingerly onto the front walk, craning her neck to see around him. “Jasper, where’s your brother?” She sounded nervous, but that was normal for her, even on a good day.

Jasper huffed. “On the road, he’s coming.”

“He’s supposed to walk with you…”

“Mam, I don’t need a bloody eleven-year-old baby guarding me everywhere I go. It’s so stupid. He’s the younger sibling!”

His mother tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her eyes flitting all about the yard. Her hands fiddled with the small silver cross that hung around her neck. “But you could—”

“Get lost? On one road?” He narrowed his eyes. “I’m schizophrenic, not an idiot.” His mother flinched at the word, as if hearing it out loud physically burned her. Jasper ignored the reaction and stomped past her onto the porch. Behind him he could hear Callum calling out to him and his mom as he stumbled down the drive. Jasper didn’t bother turning around, just wrenched open the front door and stormed inside.

Their house was old, but relatively big considering there were only four of them. Five, if you wanted to count Callum’s pet goldfish. Everything creaked and groaned. The closets had mothballs lingering in the corners, the windows rattled with even the slightest wind, and the tree branches constantly scraped against the sides of the house, all of which did nothing to alleviate Jasper’s occasional and unavoidable hallucinations. The chipped and fading yellow paint of the sideboards were out of his favor, too. He hated the color yellow. It gave the illusion that everything was always a-okay.

Jasper threw his backpack to the ground just inside the doorway and crossed the living room to where he flopped down onto the hideous plaid couch. He pulled his phone out again and began scrolling through one of his social medias. He didn’t really have friends to follow online, but that was fine. It was interesting enough to take a look at his fellow students’ accounts and see what scandal or drama was happening that week, knowing full well he didn’t have to deal with any of them.

He had enough of his own problems as it was.

A few moments later the front door creaked open, and his mother and Callum stepped inside. His brother was beaming, holding up his painting like it was a million-dollar work of art. Their mom had her hand splayed against his back, a slight smile decorating her pale face. Jasper liked her smile, but it was very rarely him who made it happen. It was always Callum, saying something stupid or cute or funny.

Mostly Jasper just made his mother cry. He didn’t mean to, and he certainly didn’t like it, but that’s just how things were. His brother was the favorite.

Callum bounced past the couch, picture in hand, no doubt to hang it on the fridge front and center. Their mother followed close behind him.

“Jasper honey, do you have homework tonight?” she asked as she passed by the couch. Jasper grunted and poked at his phone’s screen.

“No,” he grumbled. “Just math.”  He rarely had an excess of homework, being as his classes were all in the easiest track. This, on top of the fact that he was lumped together in the “special needs” kids hallway, which he found unnecessary. Try to kill a kid once– accidentally, he might add. He thought his classmate was a demon out to get him– and everyone labeled you as broken goods in need of extra care.

His mother disappeared into the kitchen. He could hear her rummaging around in the cupboards, and a second later her voice carried out into the living room. “Did you take your medicine today?”

Jasper sighed. Every day it was the same question. He’d have thought by now she trusted him enough to just stop asking. “Yes, Mam.”

“Alright. Make sure you do your homework before dinner. We have to go to your brother’s gymnastics practice tonight.”

“Do I have to go?” he groaned. “I’m old enough to stay home by myself.”

His mom appeared in the doorway, a package of instant mashed potatoes in her hand. Her eyes were flitting around the room again, her fingers twitchy. “I would feel better if you were there with me and not alone.”

“Whatever. Fine.” Jasper rolled off the couch in a huff. He nabbed his book bag from the floor on his way across the room. He took the stairs two at a time, flying around the curve. His room was the first one on the left, and he kicked the door shut with a bang that rattled the windows in their frames. He swung his bag onto his desk and flopped face first onto his bed, scattering his collection of Pokémon plushies. He gathered them against his chest and released a deep sigh.

“Hey,” said a voice.

Jasper lifted his head, prepared to shout, thinking it was his mom or Callum. But there was nobody.

“Relaxing?” the voice asked. “That’s nice.”

“Who’s there?” Jasper demanded, sitting bolt upright.

“How’s your mother doing? Your dad and your brother?”

“Who are you!?” Jasper leapt from his bed. His stuffed animals went flying all over the place, his phone disappearing between the mattress and the wall. “Get out of my room!”

“Am I in your room?” the voice inquired. And it sounded so familiar to him, yet he couldn’t quite place it. “You know how things are… Am I really in your room?”

Jasper rubbed his temples, pacing in front of his window. “Go away, I don’t have time for this.”

“But I have important things to tell you–”

“NO.” He smacked his bedside light clean off the table. It landed hard against the floor, but the thud was distant in his head. “Leave me alone! Go away!”

“Jasper–”

“I said stop. I don’t want to listen to you right now.”

“Jasper!” A pair of hands came down lightly on his shoulders. “Jasper honey, it’s just me.”

Jasper flailed and whirled around, teeth bared. Flinching, his mother took a step back, hands automatically flying to her throat, where her cross was. Her brown hair was coming undone from its hair tie, and wispy strands floated and curled around her face. He felt hot and out of breath.

His mom brushed blonde hair away from his face, frowning. “You’re all worked up now…”

“I’m fine.” Jasper pulled away from her, backing into his bed. The hallucination– because that’s what it was, he realized now. It was hard to distinguish between what was reality and what wasn’t sometimes– had shaken him. It had been a few weeks since his last one and he’d hoped they would stay away a bit longer. He was getting used to near-normalcy. Every once in a while it was nice to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night without having a full conversation with the voices in his head about whether or not the dark shadow in the corner was a hellish creature or just his dirty pile of socks.

Jasper crawled beneath the blankets, pulling his Pokémon stuffed animals beneath it with him. He realized that a sixteen-year-old boy clinging to colorful plush animals was ridiculous, but he didn’t care so long as word never got out to his one and a half friends.

His mother gave him a stiff pat through the blankets. “Take a nap, then. I’ll call you for dinner.”

“Fine,” Jasper snapped, drawing the blankets closer around himself. He heard his mother pad out of the room, the firm click of the door being pulled shut behind her, and he practically melted into his mattress.

——————-

 

Jasper slept through dinner, waking to discover that darkness had fallen, his room lit by only the flickering night light in the corner. Groggy and squinting like a mole, he rolled out of bed in a tangle of sheets and shuffled his way into the hallway. He could hear the hushed sounds of a TV commercial spokesman hawking their product wares. It was nearly 7:30. His dad was probably home from work by now, enjoying some quiet time. Jasper thumped his way down the steps, the wood dirty and worn in from decades of feet.

The living room was empty, so he headed for the kitchen. His father stood against the counter– a sickening yellow color, like the rest of the house– with his back to him. Jasper rapped his knuckles against the doorway. “Da?”

His dad spun around as if shocked. His dark hair was in stark contrast to the bright and cheery kitchen palette around them. Jasper had always wondered how neither he nor his brother had inherited their father’s hair color. Callum was all his mom’s genes, as far as he could tell, and he himself shared his father and mother’s blue eyes, which was pretty handy in picking up girls. Not that they stuck around long after witnessing him freak out over something that wasn’t even there, but that was beside the point.

“Jasper.” His father fumbled his cell phone around in his hands before setting it face down on the counter. “How was your day? Your mam told me you had a bit of a meltdown earlier.”

Jasper yanked open the fridge door, scowling into the fluorescent glare. “I did not. It wasn’t even that big of a deal.” He rummaged around, pulling out a plate of mashed potatoes and boxed chicken tenders covered in plastic wrap. “Mam likes to exaggerate.”

“Mm.” His father had turned to face the counter again, and was tapping at the phone screen with an intense focus. Needing to get to the microwave but unwilling to ask his dad to move, Jasper skirted around him, glancing over his shoulder as he squeezed past.

“Is that Mam’s phone? She forget it again?” He snorted. His mom was constantly in a state of forgetfulness, misplacing everything from her phone to her own glasses, all of which were, nine times out of ten, in her pocket or already on her head. Jasper shook his head and shut his plate in the microwave after tearing away the plastic wrap, stabbing the time in with his finger. His father had lapsed into silence, staring at the phone.

“Da?” Jasper prompted. “When you’re done with that can you look over my math homework?”

His face an unusual shade of red, Jasper’s dad snatched up the phone and breezed across the kitchen. His mouth was a tight line, his jaw set. “Sorry kiddo, I’ve got some work to catch up on before tomorrow…”

“Oh. Er, ok?” Jasper frowned, watching as his father wrenched open the cellar door and vanished down into the musty dark. He had a workspace down there, but it was rarely used on account that the cellar was frigid and dank even on the best of days.

Without another word, the cellar door slammed shut, leaving Jasper alone with the tinny beeping of the microwave and his own thoughts.

—————–

 

The following day went about as he expected. Boring, droll, and uneventful. A fight broke out in the hallway (normal, happened once a week) and they received their monthly bomb threat at long last. Nothing new. That was just school. When he finally got home, however, he walked right into a wall of tension. He couldn’t identify it. His mother fidgeted and tittered about the house as usual, but there was some kind of drive behind her motions this time. When he asked, she stonewalled him, and scurried off to clean the kitchen counters for a third time.

Callum, of course, was oblivious. He sat in front of the TV with his notebooks, writing one of his stupid stories that he’d no doubt force everyone to read at a later time. After a short argument with the voices in his head, Jasper sunk into the couch cushions, pulled out his phone, and decided not to worry about it.

Sometime around five, his mother flitted her way into the living room and stood before the TV. Callum craned his neck, trying to see around her. “Mum, I like this part!”

Jasper frowned. His mother’s face was pale and drawn, and she wrung her phone around in her hands as if it were a wet towel. Her eyes were round, nearly bugging out of her head as she tugged at her necklace. He didn’t think he’d seen her so freaked out since the time he’d tried to kill his classmate (again, it had been an accident).

“Mam, are you okay?” he asked, trying for a gentle voice. He didn’t like to see her so worried, considering it was usually him who made it so.

His mother ran her fingers through Callum’s hair as he grumped up at her from the floor. “Yes dear… I want you boys to go up to your rooms. Okay?”

“But Mum–” Callum protested, with Jasper silently voicing the same thoughts.

“Please!” Their mom begged, her voice higher than Jasper had ever heard it go. His brother quieted down and began gathering up his notebooks and pens. Jasper pulled himself out of the couch cushions, watching his mother as he trudged for the stairs, Callum at his heels. She shooed them along. Jasper grabbed his brother by the arm and headed up, feeling her gaze burning between his shoulder blades. With a shudder he hurried his steps, turning right into his bedroom at the top of the stairs.

He made to shut the door, but Callum stood there, obstructing the doorway. He turned his head up, his brow furrowed. Jasper scowled.

“What do you want?” he groaned. “I want to play video games, go somewhere else.”

His brother picked at his notebooks, running his toes along the carpet nervously. “Is Mum mad at us?”

“No clue.”

“She seemed really upset about something though. Why would she tell us to go to our rooms if she wasn’t mad at us?”

Jasper growled and planted his hand against Callum’s chest, shoving him back. He tried not to think about yesterday’s hallucination, and what the made-up voice had been trying to tell him. “I said I don’t know! Now get lost already.” He slammed the door, turning the lock as loudly as he could. With that, he stormed over to his bed and fell face first into the comforter, his eyes aching.

“Are you ignoring me still?” The voice came again, familiar as always. It liked to torment him when he was alone, tired, and done with the world. Sort of like the teachers at school, except they weren’t a figment of his imagination. “I told you something was up with your Mam, I told you.”

Jasper pulled his pillow over his head, trying to smother out the voice. “I know you’re not real, I said it before and I’ll say it again. Leave me the hell alone!”

“But your Mam. And your Da. He was acting weird last night wasn’t he? You know something’s up. You’re ignoring it.”

“Get away out of my thoughts already!”

The voice seemed to laugh. “I am your thoughts.”

Jasper waited for more, but the voice appeared to have said all it needed to. It was gone. For now. He pinched the bridge of his nose and yanked the comforter up over his head.

—————-

 

At some point he must’ve drifted off into sleep, because he was shaken awake with the sound of the front door slamming and glass shattering. Jasper sat up, his body tense, waiting for the rest. Because he knew it was coming, somewhere in the back of his head. Whatever it was. He slipped out of bed and crossed his bedroom, crouching by the floor vent in the corner. He could hear most of what went on downstairs through it, the sounds carrying up through the walls. He’d spoiled a lot of surprises that way. But he’d also heard a lot of what his parents wouldn’t ever tell him, too.

His mother was talking, her quiet voice strained. “Sebastian, honey, please–”

“Please what, Nicole? Don’t get angry?” His father was practically yelling, the intensity of it rattling the metal vent head. Jasper couldn’t believe it. His dad never yelled at his mom. At least, not right away, and not without good reason. “Of course I’m going to get pissed, you’ve been cheating on me.”

Jasper froze. The words rolled over him like a frigid ocean tide, dragging him down under. He fell sideways, his body numb, feeling the carpet prickle against his bare cheek. His parents were both yelling now, his mother pleading, his father obviously not listening to a word she said.

Jasper recalled the previous night, when his father had been poking around at his mother’s phone. The way he’d stormed off into the basement, his face red with anger. And just this afternoon with his mom sending he and his brother away. How could he have just ignored all that? The voice, as much as he hated to admit, was right for once.

A soft knocking at the door pulled him out of his shock. Jasper crawled across his bedroom floor, using his desk to pull himself upright. He unlocked the door, pulling it open just a crack. Callum stood just outside, a headless teddy bear clutched in his pale hands. He tilted his head up and peered through the tiny space. His brown eyes were huge and wet, tears rolling down his cheeks. Jasper pulled the door open further, staring down at him.

His brother fiddled with his bear. “Jasper, Mum and Dad are yelling…”

“I know.” Jasper bit the inside of his cheek, refraining from snapping something snarky.

“I’m scared,” Callum whispered, pushing against the door. Jasper relented, letting him scurry past. Their parents were still yelling, but Jasper didn’t have it in him to eavesdrop. He shut the door quietly and turned around. Callum lay curled on his bed, surrounding himself with Jasper’s Pokémon stuffed animals as if they were a protective wall that could keep out whatever it was that was going on downstairs. Under other circumstances Jasper would’ve given him flack for it. He let it slide, crouching down by the vent again.

Despite himself, he found he was listening in again. His parents banged around downstairs, his mother still pleading.

“How could you do this?” His father’s voice drifted up through the vent, quieter now. “I thought we were happy–”

“We are,” Jasper’s mother insisted. “I am… I am happy.”

There was a bang, as if someone had brought their fist down on a hard surface. “Then why, Nicole? How long has this been going on?”

Jasper leaned forward, pressing his ear to the vent. The cold metal stung his skin. His mother’s reply, when it finally came, was weak.

“Awhile,” she whispered. “Eleven years.”

Jasper recoiled from the vent as something heavy went crashing. Callum peered over the bed at him, his attention drawn by all the noise floating up through the floor. “What’s Mum talking about?” he asked, his brow furrowed.

Jasper opened his mouth to reply, to tell him to shut up, but the words didn’t come. His mind was reeling. How could his mom cheat on his dad for eleven years?

“I’m taking the boys with me,” his father was saying, his voice getting softer as he moved towards the stairs. “We’re going until this gets sorted out.”

“You can’t!” Jasper’s mother protested. “You can’t take Callum.”

“Why not?” his father snapped.

“He’s not yours…”

Jasper leapt away from the vent, throwing a pillow down over it in an attempt to smother the noise. He didn’t want to hear anymore. He couldn’t. His brother stared at him, wide-eyed.

“Jasper, what? Tell me!” he whined. “I wanna know too.”

“Shut up Callum!” Jasper shoved him into the mattress, his heart racing. The yelling had started back up, louder and harsher than before. He tried to block it out, hitting his hands against his head. His brother scooted away, shoving himself into the corner where the mattress met the wall. He was crying again.

“I’m sorry,” he blubbered. Jasper ignored him and practically ran for the door. He needed fresh air badly. He swung open the door right as a loud popping went off somewhere downstairs, the noise deafening. Behind him, Callum screamed.

Jasper lurched forward, stumbling out into the hallway. From where he was he could see straight down the steps into the living room, where his mother stood, a small pistol trembling in her hands. He recognized it as the one they kept around in case of emergencies. At her feet lay his father, his work shirt stained with blood, blood that was spreading rapidly blooming across his chest and into the carpet. Jasper stared.

“Mam! Oh my God, Mam. What did you do?!” He made to rush downstairs. His mother gasped and swung the gun up, pointing it at him.

“Don’t come down here! Stay away from me, devil child!” Her hands shook so fiercely Jasper was sure she would drop the gun. He gaped at her, his eyes watering. He didn’t understand her words. He didn’t understand anything about her right then.

“Mam, please,” he begged. “You have to call an ambulance for Da.”

“I said shut up!” she shrieked, her face red. “You made me do it! You made me do all of it! Nothing like your brother…”

Jasper sank to his knees, his hands automatically going up like he was under arrest. His whole body had begun to shake and he felt cold all over. “I don’t know what you’re talking about Mam, please! You need to get help!”

His mother waved the gun, her eyes wild. “Be quiet!”

Jasper complied, squeezing his eyes shut tight, waiting for the shot to come. There was a bang. He screamed, hitting the floor. Several seconds past, and no pain came. No blood. He raised his head, patting himself down in search of an injury. Nothing. He straightened out completely, gazing down the steps in horror.

His mother lay draped over her husband, the gun on the ground beside them. Jasper began to shake violently as he realized that she was dead. Footsteps sounded behind him, and his brother appeared at his side a moment later, sobbing.

“Jasper, I’m scared. I want it to stop, please. Mummy…”

Jasper grabbed his brother under the arm and dragged him back into the bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him. He immediately leapt on his phone and began dialing 911 with trembling hands. Callum sat on the floor, crying, his knees drawn up as he rocked back and forth.

A woman’s voice came onto the line. “This is 911, what’s your emergency?”

Jasper bit back tears and took a deep breath. “M-my parents,” he rasped. “They’re dead. Please. I don’t know what to do…”

He could hear clicking over the phone as the operator typed away at her computer. “What’s your name hun? I’ve got your address here already, I’m sending help.”

“I’m Jasper Blackwell. I’m 16… Please, I’m scared. I have my younger brother with me.”

“Help is on the way Jasper. Just sit tight.”

“Okay…” Jasper whispered, dropping the phone into his lap as the call was ended. His brother crawled over to him and laid his head down on his leg, and they waited in silence.

—————–

 

The house was a flurry of activity for the following few hours. Police swarmed the place, taking pictures, writing in their little notebooks, and speaking in hushed tones to Jasper’s aunt and uncle, who had been called in to take him and his brother home. The bodies of his parents had long since been taken away for investigation.

Jasper, meanwhile, sat huddled in the corner of the kitchen, perched upon a stool with a mug of hot chocolate in his trembling hands. A nice officer woman named Josie had made it for him, talking to him softly all the while. She hadn’t expected much of an answer from him, which was just as well. Jasper didn’t think he could speak if his life depended on it. It was almost as if his words had been stolen away with his parents’ death. He’d barely been able to give the police a run-down of what happened.

He turned his attention to his brother– his half-brother, technically, he realized with a jolt– who was hiding beneath the kitchen table, his knees drawn up and head held low. He’d been that way since the minute Officer Josie had led them into the room, and he hadn’t moved since. Jasper felt for his brother, who had been so dotted on by their parents– for everything that Jasper wasn’t, he saw now.

Devil child his mother had called him. He still didn’t know why, had made no point in telling the police officers anything about it. If his mom hated him, then fine. Her hatred towards him hadn’t had anything to do with his father, right? Everything he’d heard his parents arguing about was because of his mother and her poor life choices, not him.

The words still hurt, though.

He lifted his head as someone came into the kitchen– his aunt, her blonde hair tied in a tight knot atop her head. She looked at him, and he saw the pity in her eyes, mingling with the fear. Fear that he had some hand in his parents’ deaths. Fear that he would snap and kill her next. Jasper supposed the dread was rational. His mother had already labeled him as garbage, it was only proper for her sister to take her same stance on the matter.

He watched as his aunt coaxed Callum out from under the table, mumbling soft nothings under her breath. She gestured to where Jasper sat, motioning for him to follow. “Come on, come on. The officers said we’re free to go. We’re going home. I’ve put together your bags already.”

Jasper slid off the stool, setting aside his mug of hot chocolate, untouched, and followed his aunt into the living room. He didn’t look at the stairs as he passed. The wide circle of blood was still there on the carpet, lurking just beneath the tarp that had been tossed over it.

“Did… the officers tell you anything else?” he dared to ask once they were all safely packed into the car and on the road. Nobody was speaking. The silence made him uncomfortable. Callum, who was normally an absolute chatterbox during car rides, wouldn’t even talk to him.

His aunt shifted in the passenger seat, looking back at him in the rearview mirror. “Not really,” she replied simply. There was a chill to her voice. “They said they would call again in the next few hours if they found out anything else pertinent. Unless you’d like to tell me anything now…”

“What do you mean if I have anything to tell you?” Jasper asked, unsure if he was hearing properly. “I told the cops everything. If you’re trying to say that I killed Mam and Da–”

His brother suddenly sat forward in his seat, the skin around his mouth white with anger. “Jasper wouldn’t hurt Mum and Dad! Mum… M-mum did that herself.” He deflated back against the seat with a sob, all anger gone. Jasper’s aunt quieted, as did Jasper. The rest of the car ride was taken in silence, though he caught his aunt glancing back at him every few minutes, her eyes full of distrust.

—————–

 

Jasper barely made it up to the guest bedroom before the tears came, hard and fast. He collapsed onto the bed and let himself fall apart, all walls breaking, He didn’t think he could stand to live with his aunt and uncle if they were going to act like he was nothing more than a walking mental illness. He’d endured enough passive aggressiveness from his own mother on the matter.

Some time passed before he was able to bring himself back down to earth. He raised his head from the pillows, looking towards the closed bedroom door. His face felt crusty with dried tears, but he didn’t care right then. He slid off the bed and crossed the floor, pulling open the door as quietly as possible. Down in the living room he could hear his aunt speaking with someone. Her voice was hushed, almost secretive.

He tiptoed down the hall and took a seat at the very top of the stairs. From there he could hear everything. He hesitated to eavesdrop again, seeing how it had turned out last time. But he knew his aunt wouldn’t tell him anything otherwise, and he felt like he deserved to know.

“You’re sure that’s what happened?” his aunt was asking. “I don’t believe it. My sister… Nicole was a perfectly healthy woman. A bit nervous, sure, but only because she was fearful for her oldest son. He gets himself into trouble you see. He has schizophrenia or some such thing. Personally I think he just has a bit of an anger problem.”

The other person stepped into view of the stairs. Jasper recognized the man as one of the officers from earlier. “On the contrary, ma’am, I’m sorry to say that your sister wasn’t well. Based on her actions and medical records, one of our psychologists determined that she may have also been suffering from some form of mental illness. It’s in our professional opinion that a breakdown was brought on when her husband found out about the affair.” He paused for a moment. “I don’t mean to press into your personal matters, but there have been documented cases where a parent’s psychosis is passed onto the child. Your nephew shouldn’t be blamed for what he has.”

Jasper inched back up the steps as his aunt began to get huffy with the detective, denying her sister’s unwell mental state. He feared that if he stuck around any longer, his aunt might start trying to blame him for everything, just like his mother had. He scurried into the guest room, shutting the door silently.

“Hey, kiddo.”

Jasper spun around at the familiar voice. On the bed sat his father, black hair disheveled, face and hands bloody. He smiled at him, a sad smile. Jasper cried out and launched himself across the room, burying his head against his father’s chest. “Da! You’re here, I can’t believe it!”

He felt his dad’s fingers brush back his hair. “Yeah, it’s good to see you, Jasp. I don’t have long, alright? There’s something you need to hear.”

Jasper lifted his head, furrowing his brow. “What’s that Da? Can’t you stay? So me and Callum can live with you instead?”

“Jasper, listen to me,” his father said. “God knows I loved your mother. I should’ve seen her struggles sooner, but I didn’t. Now listen, you don’t need to stay here. You don’t need to stand for your aunt’s attitude. She’s never understood these sort of things. She won’t understand you.”

Jasper stepped back from his father. “Are… are you telling me I should run away?”

His father inclined his head. “It’s up to you, kiddo. I can only suggest. I’m not even really here.”

“What do you–”

“Jasper!” That was his aunt’s voice, right outside the bedroom door. Jasper leapt away from his bed and spun around as the door creaked open, admitting his aunt’s thin figure into the room. “Who’re you talking to?” she demanded.

“My Da, he’s here.” He turned over his shoulder, gesturing wildly. “He’s–”

But his father was gone from the bed. With a jolt, Jasper realized that he’d never actually been there. Dammit. He cursed himself silently, dropping to his haunches on the floor. His aunt stared down at him, her face a stony mask.

“I’m calling the doctor,” she said, heading back towards the door. “Whatever medication your mother has you on clearly isn’t strong enough.”

Jasper curled in on himself, wondering how his life had spiraled down to this point in the matter of only a few days. He heard the door click shut behind him and decided that it was now or never. He stood and crossed to where he’d tossed his overnight bag upon arriving just hours ago. He grabbed the handles and swung it over his shoulders as he made for the window. It was a far jump, but he had no doubts that he could make it without breaking anything.

Jasper pushed open the window and swung his right leg up and over the sill, following with his other. He sat balanced for a single moment, suspended between the stifling atmosphere of the house and the chill freedom of the outside world. He took a deep breath and jumped— and hit the ground running.

And he didn’t look back.