Nothing in This World Can Be Endured Forever

“Are you guys excited?” Kathleen asked, her fingers taping on the steering wheel as she merged onto the Autobahn.

“Of course!” Nathaniel, Bill’s youngest half-brother exclaimed.

Bill felt very uncomfortable sitting in the large seat between Izaak and Michael. They were playing their video games, competing wirelessly and actively insulting the other. The radio was turned on, the music of popular songs confusing Bill. The others were able to sing along, the words coming easily to them. Bill sat, caught up in the whirlwind of the new situation. Instinctively, Bill curled in upon himself. Surely, there’d be a consequence later for any misbehaving or even for just going. Bill violently shuddered at coming home to Jörg.

Bill tried to make himself invisible as Michael reached over him, whacking Izaak in the arm. Bill was worried. He hadn’t been punished fully for his actions, he was sure of it. Jorg had thrown him into cellar and Kathleen had come and took him out. Bill wasn’t sure if Jörg would be very happy about this. Bill was sure his intentions were to keep him locked in there until he was back from his business trip.

Bill’s eyes closed in pain as his ankle throbbed with the memory. No, he told himself, that wouldn’t happen again. He brushed the memory aside and continued to think about the possible events of the day. He’d never really been out with the family like this before.

Kathleen broke Bill of his train of thought. “Are you boys wanting to go anywhere specific?”

Five boys began to speak at once, yelling out their desires of the others. Names of stores and shops that Bill had seen many times written on their clothes. Kathleen nodded, like she was writing down every place they wanted to go to. She turned off the Autobahn as she addressed Bill.

“A place you wanted to go, Sweetie?”

Bill froze. His heart raced, fear coursing through him as multiple pairs of eyes focused on him. Silence filled the car as Bill’s mind raced. He didn’t know the answer to this question.

“Mom,” Izaak said, “of course he doesn’t know.” His voice was harsh.

Two hours, five stores, and a few handfuls of bags later, Bill felt as if the world was ending. He trailed aimlessly behind the others, trying not to be heard, seen or thought of. Through each store, Bill felt more and more out of place. The clothes were nice and uniform, the store smells official and the clerks watched him like a hawk. He felt awkward fallowing Kathleen obediently as the other boys scattered about the store, looking for things each wanted. Each boy sent him glares in his direction as he sheepishly stood by as Kathleen helped them shop.

“Sweetie,” she smiled, her tone laces with sugar as they headed out of the shop. “There’s a shop just down the road that has some nice clothes for you.”

Bill was unsure. He kept his head low and nodded slowly, more to let her know he heard. Kathleen must have taken that as a good thing as she smiled and turned to her boys laughing in a group.

“Boys, are you hungry?”

Sounds of agreement came from each of them. Bill wished he was offered food, too, as he realized how hungry he was.

“Why don’t you all go down to Fiza’s?” she suggested. “We’ll meet you there shortly. Give him your bags, boys. We’re stopping by the car.”

The twins arrogantly shoved the bags they were holding into Bill’s chest, hissing to him in a low voice, “Ruin our clothes, our Dad will hear about it. And don’t get too fucking comfortable with our Mom. It won’t last long, we can promise that.”

Bill barely managed a nod, his head lowered in obedience. The five boys took off down the street, laughing loudly and waving back at Kathleen.

“Okay,” Kathleen stated, turning and walking down the street, Bill fallowing. When they reached the car, Bill carefully placed the bags in the back of the van, making sure not even to crumple the cardboard for fear of any consequences.

The shop Kathleen was referring to turned out to be a thrift shop and of the only ones in the large city. They entered the shop. Bill blinked rapidly, trying to adjust to the dim lighting. Kathleen paused, looking around at the clothing racks before seeing something and heading over, Bill trailing after.

“I simply cannot let you go to school without clothing,” she commented lowly. “Kaden has some old clothes, so do the twins, that would fit,” she paused, pulling out a light pair of jeans, inspecting them before shoving them back among the others and moving on. “But you need something nice to wear for picture day and all. Although your father doesn’t see the point, I insisted. I can’t just let you go back to school with nothing, now, can I?”

Bill almost wished she would. They had every year before, so what was different now?

At the end of the long day, Bill went home with a pleasantly full stomach, a new outfit that was all his, not a hand-me-down/up, and a threat weighing heavily on his mind. Jörg wasn’t to be home until tomorrow evening and Bill was relieved to hear that Kathleen wasn’t planning on eating in.

Bill was sent to the basement early that night, with an awkward goodnight from Kathleen, permitting him to lie upon his old lumpy bed and daydream before falling into a deep sleep.

As school was approaching, Bill was growing more and more worried about way things would go. Jörg had made it clear of Bill expectations throughout school. He pulled out the old threats again, making Bill sheepish and guilty for being treated nicely by Kathleen.

Bill daydreamed while doing the routine chores. He rehearsed the first day of school over and over again. He would wait at the bus stop in the morning, the kids there smiling at him and talking with him like they were best friends who were separated for three months of summer break. They’d give him hugs and tell him how much they’d missed him while they’ve been away. They’d ask him how his summer had gone and then launch into a detailed recount of their vacations in places Bill’s never heard of.

When the bus came, they’d smile and clap him on the back, fighting with each other over who could sit with him. When he’d get on the bus, he was bombarded with sudden friendship, people left and right offering to move over so he could sit.

And when he’d get to school, Bill dreamed as he folded more laundry, kids wouldn’t push him around and call him names. They wouldn’t leave him out of their friends’ circle and they would invite him to play during recess. They wouldn’t call him names and openly tease him in front of the teacher, who did nothing. The teachers wouldn’t constantly be frowning in his direction when he didn’t answer a question they asked and he would be the star of the school, everybody’s friend, like Yun was.

“BOY!” Jörg shouted, shaking Bill violently from his day dream. Jörg advanced on him, his face hard and his chest heaving with his anger. “When I call you, you answer!”

Bill nodded, cringing and his mind racing. How could he have not heard him calling? Was he that deep into his fantasy? Jörg grabbed his arm, dragging him away from the laundry room and through the house. Bill shuddered, trying to pull away. He knew exactly where Jörg was taking him.

No, Bill screamed to himself, no! Not this! What did I do?

Jörg ripped open the door to the basement and tugged Bill down the stairs, not even showing any sign of care towards the way Bill stumbled and proceeded to be dragged down, the back of his heals hitting ever step painfully. Jörg dragged Bill to the back of the basement, Bill fighting to get the painful grip on his wrist to subside, if only briefly.

Jörg pushed Bill from him, watching with a smile on his face as the small boy fell onto the cold concrete of the basement, his head hitting the wall with a resounding thud. He advanced on Bill, sneering as he easily picked him up slammed him into the wall, his head hitting the wall again. Bill closed his eyes, waiting for the beating, waiting to be thrown across the room and kicked and beaten until he tasted blood. His heart was caught in his throat, preventing the muscle from pumping and cutting off his air supply.

“You,” Jörg spat venomously, “will not ignore me.” Bill was pushed into the wall harder, his arms throbbing from where he was held against the wall. Bill soon realized that it wasn’t his heart caught in his throat that was cutting off his air, it was Jörg’s hand closing in around his throat as the older man leaned into him.

Bill’s mouth gaped, his eyes wide as his limbs struggled against the wall, trying to do something, anything to break free, to regain the right to breath. Bill’s hands were immobile as he tried to reach up to claw at Jörg’s hand. The balls of his feet pounded against the wall in protest and his lungs fought against the pressure.

“Do you understand boy?” Jörg spat in his face, his breath burning Bill’s nose. Jörg pressed harder, all but crushing Bill’s neck into the wall.

Bill stretched out his neck, trying to squirm away from the hand, his mouth agape for the breath that wasn’t there. Bill choked loudly, his body fighting against everything just to take in a breath, to live and deal with any other consequence.
Jörg pressed Bill harder into the wall, satisfied that his eyes were falling closed, his body giving up the fight, he pushed himself away from the boy, his hand coming off his throat as he stood up straight. Jörg smirked as Bill crumpled into a heap of lanky boy onto the floor. Bill instantly took a shaky breath, coughing and gasping to get air back into him. Tears ran down his face, afraid of what would happen next. He carefully looked up at Jörg, fear coursing through him, his body numb and his lungs on fire. His throat ached, almost as if he had the worst sore throat possible.

“Next time, you’ll listen to me, won’t you, Boy?” Jörg questioned, his tone threatening.
Bill nodded, his neck sore and throbbing. Jörg, dissatisfied with the response, swung his foot out, kicking Bill mildly in his side. Bill cried out, curling into himself in fear of more abuse.

“What?”

“Y-y-yes, s-sir,” Bill responded shakily, his voice breaking horribly.

Bill was left to cry against the harsh concrete. What seemed like ages afterwards, Bill stumbled to his feet, moving slowly across the basement, his ankle aching and rolling every time he’d put his weight on it. Bill collapsed onto the bed, groaning and curling into himself, his hand reaching down to caress his throbbing ankle.