Crooked Halos
Chapter Nine
“William.”
My mother smiles, opening her arms towards me as I toddle over, unsteady on my feet.
Her brown eyes shine and the sunlight picks out copper tints in her hair, I reach out and fall into her arms – she’s soft and warm and smells like cookie dough. Her smile lights up my day and I gurgle laughter in response to the way she tickles my nose with one finger, laughing with me.
“Silly boy.”
She sounds so affectionate, so caring…
“Mommy told you not to throw sand out the sand pit.”
The ways she says it, carefully stroking my hair with one hand makes me think she doesn’t care in the slightest, as long as I’m happy and safe.
I gurgle with laughter again, poking her nose, or trying to anyway, my pudgy finger misses, slipping from her nose into her cheek and she laughs – such a beautiful sound.
“Cookies.” The word is almost incomprehensible in my childish babble but she smiles, knowing what I mean.
“They’ll be about five minutes, sweetie, we’ve got to let them cool down.”
I smile and clap my hands together, simple childish delight plastered across my face.
“Mommy. Nice mommy.”
She smiles again, her eyes so warm, so beautiful.
I wake up shivering.
I forgot that they don’t bother heating the isolation cells.
Curled over in a corner, ignoring the nasty-smelling food in the cheap plastic tray.
The hatch is drawn back, blue eyes staring, hatch closed, blue eyes gone. They’ll be back in about an hour to give me another dose, like clockwork, I remember what they said when I asked for how long.
“Well, as long as it takes you to get better, William.”
There was another murder the day before yesterday, I asked if it was anyone I knew but they wouldn’t tell me.
The girl who found the body hung herself yesterday, they were talking about it this morning.
Their voices vivid in my head and the darkness comes rolling back in like the tide, exhausted, too tired to fight any more I give in and let myself be pulled under, I let myself be drowned.
“Bad boy! Bad William!”
I look up into the warm brown eyes, she’s so worried, so scared for me.
“Bad William! You don’t run into the road, ever!”
I whimper gently, her desperate grip on my arms starting to hurt.
“Bad, very bad. You don’t go near the road, you don’t ever go near the road, you hear me?”
“Yes, mommy.” My voice is scarcely more than a whisper but I can tell how scared she is, she sounds so terrified, so relieved.
She pulls me tight against her chest and I fidget but I don’t say anything because I can feel something damp on my shoulder, her tears staining my t-shirt and people only cry when they’re sad.
“Bad William.” She says, her voice muffled from her position against my shoulder.
“Bad William, very bad William.” I agree and she lets out a sound that’s somewhere between a laugh and a sob.
“Don’t ever do it again, you hear me? You don’t ever go near the road.”
“No, no road. Bad William.”
Minutes tick by but time just seems to blur, going in odd jumps and jerks, the nurse cam in to give me my dose and it felt like only a second later the door was closing and she was gone.
“No, not William.”
“I’m afraid, ma’am, it’s government policy, now if you’ll just see here-”
“No, you can’t have him, not William, he wouldn’t hurt anyone.”
“I’m afraid that’s debatable madam, now if you will kindly direct your attention to the form-”
“No, no… you can’t have him, I won’t let you!”
“Madam, this is the law, we are offering a lot of money here, he will be looked after well, I can assure you.”
“You’ll shut him up in one of those ‘hospitals’ where he’ll be tortured and abandoned and left there to rot… hospitals indeed, they’re prisons for infants. He wouldn’t hurt anyone and you’re demanding that he be locked away for the rest of his life?”
“Now, please, this is a lot of money we’re offering here…”
“I don’t care about the money!”
I put my hands over my ears, I don’t like to see mommy shouting and the funny men in their big suits and serious expressions scare me.
Mommy keeps shouting at them but daddy is calm, daddy meets their gazes carefully and asks them how much they’re willing to pay. Mommy shouts at daddy too, telling him he’s a bastard, asking him how he could say such a thing.
“I’m just being reasonable.”
“Reasonable? Reasonable? You’re selling our son, you’re selling him to what sort of life? He’ll be locked away, lucky to see the sun again in this lifetime or the next!”
“It’s the law-”
“I don’t give a fuck about the law, this is my son!”
I close my eyes.
Sleep.
I don’t like to see them argue, sometimes daddy shouts too and mommy cries and then daddy leaves and mommy cries more and locks herself in the bathroom for hours and when I hammer on the door because I need to pee she’s pressing toilet paper to her wrists and there’s red stuff in the bath and she keeps sniffing and looking at me like it’s the last time she’ll ever see me.
When I ask her what’s wrong she says that the men are coming back tomorrow to take me someplace special for a while.
I cry and hug her leg.
“Can you come?”
”I’m not allowed, angel, but I promise I’ll see you again someday.”
Another four hours, another dose, like clockwork, one dose every four hours, on the dot the nurse comes bustling in and dopes me up. I wonder what they’re trying to do to me here, maybe they’re trying to overdose me on whatever it is they’re doping me up on.
She checks my pulse, blinks twice and releases my wrist.
“Hmm, you’re getting better, William.”
She leaves.
I blink, watch the door slide shut with a creak.
I’m getting better.
I’m getting better.
How much ‘better’ do I need to get before they let me go?
“NO! NO!” I scream, kicking, struggling. Mommy’s crying, standing in the doorway, daddy’s holding her arm, she’s shaking but not struggling, not like I am.
“Be still you little shit.” One of the men hisses under his breath, dragging me from mommy, from home, I scream again, trying to kick them hard enough to hurt them but they keep walking and mommy keeps crying.
I let another foot fly and it connects with the slightly taller mans knee.
He’s got that smile on his face, the one that daddy gets if mommy’s in the room and I broke a plate. The one that says that he can’t do anything now but if he could he would hurt me.
I kick him again. Harder.
“NO! LET ME GO!”
The car door opens from the inside and I’m bundled in unceremoniously.
There’s a woman in the car, all dressed in starch white, like daddy’s shirts when they first come out the wash when mommy irons them.
She smiles at me and the door slams shut.
I bang against the tinted glass with both little fists, crying out for my mommy.
The taller man, the one with the sinister smile looks over the passenger seat and barks a laugh.
“No use, kid. Glass is bullet proof, see? Not to protect you, we don’t give a shit what happens to you now, but some of the older kids we pick up could have guns.”
I scream again, banging on the window even harder, wanting to break it, wanting to go home and as we start to drive away I turn around, trying to reach the back window… I don’t want to go to the special place, I want to go home. I want to go home.
“Sit the fuck down.” The driver shouts and I quiet, looking at him fearfully. He’s smaller in build but there’s something dangerous about him, like he could kill me with just his little finger. There’s a scar on his cheekbone, a dark red gash contrasting pale blue eyes.
Trembling, I sit down in the leather seat, as far away from the scary lady in white as possible.
“I want to go home.” I whimper and she pets my hand. I flinch.
“I know, dear, but you’re a very special little boy, so you’re going to go to a very special place where you’ll make all sorts of new friends and have lots of fun.”
I blink twice.
“I want to go home.”
My mother smiles, opening her arms towards me as I toddle over, unsteady on my feet.
Her brown eyes shine and the sunlight picks out copper tints in her hair, I reach out and fall into her arms – she’s soft and warm and smells like cookie dough. Her smile lights up my day and I gurgle laughter in response to the way she tickles my nose with one finger, laughing with me.
“Silly boy.”
She sounds so affectionate, so caring…
“Mommy told you not to throw sand out the sand pit.”
The ways she says it, carefully stroking my hair with one hand makes me think she doesn’t care in the slightest, as long as I’m happy and safe.
I gurgle with laughter again, poking her nose, or trying to anyway, my pudgy finger misses, slipping from her nose into her cheek and she laughs – such a beautiful sound.
“Cookies.” The word is almost incomprehensible in my childish babble but she smiles, knowing what I mean.
“They’ll be about five minutes, sweetie, we’ve got to let them cool down.”
I smile and clap my hands together, simple childish delight plastered across my face.
“Mommy. Nice mommy.”
She smiles again, her eyes so warm, so beautiful.
I wake up shivering.
I forgot that they don’t bother heating the isolation cells.
Curled over in a corner, ignoring the nasty-smelling food in the cheap plastic tray.
The hatch is drawn back, blue eyes staring, hatch closed, blue eyes gone. They’ll be back in about an hour to give me another dose, like clockwork, I remember what they said when I asked for how long.
“Well, as long as it takes you to get better, William.”
There was another murder the day before yesterday, I asked if it was anyone I knew but they wouldn’t tell me.
The girl who found the body hung herself yesterday, they were talking about it this morning.
Their voices vivid in my head and the darkness comes rolling back in like the tide, exhausted, too tired to fight any more I give in and let myself be pulled under, I let myself be drowned.
“Bad boy! Bad William!”
I look up into the warm brown eyes, she’s so worried, so scared for me.
“Bad William! You don’t run into the road, ever!”
I whimper gently, her desperate grip on my arms starting to hurt.
“Bad, very bad. You don’t go near the road, you don’t ever go near the road, you hear me?”
“Yes, mommy.” My voice is scarcely more than a whisper but I can tell how scared she is, she sounds so terrified, so relieved.
She pulls me tight against her chest and I fidget but I don’t say anything because I can feel something damp on my shoulder, her tears staining my t-shirt and people only cry when they’re sad.
“Bad William.” She says, her voice muffled from her position against my shoulder.
“Bad William, very bad William.” I agree and she lets out a sound that’s somewhere between a laugh and a sob.
“Don’t ever do it again, you hear me? You don’t ever go near the road.”
“No, no road. Bad William.”
Minutes tick by but time just seems to blur, going in odd jumps and jerks, the nurse cam in to give me my dose and it felt like only a second later the door was closing and she was gone.
“No, not William.”
“I’m afraid, ma’am, it’s government policy, now if you’ll just see here-”
“No, you can’t have him, not William, he wouldn’t hurt anyone.”
“I’m afraid that’s debatable madam, now if you will kindly direct your attention to the form-”
“No, no… you can’t have him, I won’t let you!”
“Madam, this is the law, we are offering a lot of money here, he will be looked after well, I can assure you.”
“You’ll shut him up in one of those ‘hospitals’ where he’ll be tortured and abandoned and left there to rot… hospitals indeed, they’re prisons for infants. He wouldn’t hurt anyone and you’re demanding that he be locked away for the rest of his life?”
“Now, please, this is a lot of money we’re offering here…”
“I don’t care about the money!”
I put my hands over my ears, I don’t like to see mommy shouting and the funny men in their big suits and serious expressions scare me.
Mommy keeps shouting at them but daddy is calm, daddy meets their gazes carefully and asks them how much they’re willing to pay. Mommy shouts at daddy too, telling him he’s a bastard, asking him how he could say such a thing.
“I’m just being reasonable.”
“Reasonable? Reasonable? You’re selling our son, you’re selling him to what sort of life? He’ll be locked away, lucky to see the sun again in this lifetime or the next!”
“It’s the law-”
“I don’t give a fuck about the law, this is my son!”
I close my eyes.
Sleep.
I don’t like to see them argue, sometimes daddy shouts too and mommy cries and then daddy leaves and mommy cries more and locks herself in the bathroom for hours and when I hammer on the door because I need to pee she’s pressing toilet paper to her wrists and there’s red stuff in the bath and she keeps sniffing and looking at me like it’s the last time she’ll ever see me.
When I ask her what’s wrong she says that the men are coming back tomorrow to take me someplace special for a while.
I cry and hug her leg.
“Can you come?”
”I’m not allowed, angel, but I promise I’ll see you again someday.”
Another four hours, another dose, like clockwork, one dose every four hours, on the dot the nurse comes bustling in and dopes me up. I wonder what they’re trying to do to me here, maybe they’re trying to overdose me on whatever it is they’re doping me up on.
She checks my pulse, blinks twice and releases my wrist.
“Hmm, you’re getting better, William.”
She leaves.
I blink, watch the door slide shut with a creak.
I’m getting better.
I’m getting better.
How much ‘better’ do I need to get before they let me go?
“NO! NO!” I scream, kicking, struggling. Mommy’s crying, standing in the doorway, daddy’s holding her arm, she’s shaking but not struggling, not like I am.
“Be still you little shit.” One of the men hisses under his breath, dragging me from mommy, from home, I scream again, trying to kick them hard enough to hurt them but they keep walking and mommy keeps crying.
I let another foot fly and it connects with the slightly taller mans knee.
He’s got that smile on his face, the one that daddy gets if mommy’s in the room and I broke a plate. The one that says that he can’t do anything now but if he could he would hurt me.
I kick him again. Harder.
“NO! LET ME GO!”
The car door opens from the inside and I’m bundled in unceremoniously.
There’s a woman in the car, all dressed in starch white, like daddy’s shirts when they first come out the wash when mommy irons them.
She smiles at me and the door slams shut.
I bang against the tinted glass with both little fists, crying out for my mommy.
The taller man, the one with the sinister smile looks over the passenger seat and barks a laugh.
“No use, kid. Glass is bullet proof, see? Not to protect you, we don’t give a shit what happens to you now, but some of the older kids we pick up could have guns.”
I scream again, banging on the window even harder, wanting to break it, wanting to go home and as we start to drive away I turn around, trying to reach the back window… I don’t want to go to the special place, I want to go home. I want to go home.
“Sit the fuck down.” The driver shouts and I quiet, looking at him fearfully. He’s smaller in build but there’s something dangerous about him, like he could kill me with just his little finger. There’s a scar on his cheekbone, a dark red gash contrasting pale blue eyes.
Trembling, I sit down in the leather seat, as far away from the scary lady in white as possible.
“I want to go home.” I whimper and she pets my hand. I flinch.
“I know, dear, but you’re a very special little boy, so you’re going to go to a very special place where you’ll make all sorts of new friends and have lots of fun.”
I blink twice.
“I want to go home.”