Say Those Three Little Words

It was 7AM when the plane landed in Providence. Ian got his bag from the conveyor belt and sighed deeply, breathing in the American air. It felt strange to him; this was the first time he had ever stepped outside of UK's borders. He went to a money exchange machine and traded all of his pounds for about $1,000. Venturing outside, he pocketed the unfamiliar slips of paper and waited for a cab.

After driving for 29 minutes, the cab pulled up in front of his customer’s motel in Exeter, and Ian thanked him kindly. He handed the aging man behind the wheel his charge, got out of the car, and went to check in at the motel.

As he laid in bed that morning, gazing at the ceiling with the same sick smile that never seemed to leave his face, he thought about this afternoon. The confrontation with Carol, the look on Oli’s face as the full truth is revealed to him, the knowledge that nothing would ever be the same between them after Ian’s announcement.

He took a delicious comfort in it, and willed himself to sleep to bring himself closer to that moment.



The alarm clock blared with such intensity that it scared Oli half to death. He sat up, his heart hammering in his chest, and pressed the snooze button. His body fell back down on the bed and he groaned, pulling his blanket over his face.

Only to have a smaller body fall on top of him.

“Wake up, dickhead!” Josh exclaimed, straddling his boyfriend and pulling the blanket away from his face. “I didn’t buy that alarm clock just for you to ignore it." He started playfully hitting Oli on the cheek. "Get up! Time for school.”

“Don’t wanna.” Oli mumbled, batting Josh’s hand away.

Josh stopped his energetic movements and frowned down at the older male. Oli glanced up, startled by the sudden change of tempo. “Please? I don’t wanna be alone.”

“You won’t be alone. You’ll have my mo-”

“But I want you there.” Josh’s voice was barely above a whisper, and he was pleading with his eyes. The teenager leaned forward, resting on his arms just above Oli’s shoulders, and placed a soft kiss against the other’s lips. “Oli, please?”

The older male sighed, wrapping an arm around Josh’s waist and pressing their bodies together. Josh looked so cute when he begged. He kissed his partner and smiled. “Alright. But only because you’re so adorable.”

Josh blushed. “If you say so.”

Before Oli could try and convince Josh of his perfection, the teenager quickly got off of the bed and grabbed his backpack. He flashed Oli a peace sign and a grin before sauntering into the living room. The older boy sighed again, and got out of bed to get dressed.

Within two hours they were sitting in their respective spots in the classroom. Oli was busy stapling papers for their new assignment, while Josh and Travis were having a lengthy discussion about alien existence.

The 22 year old glanced up, smiling a little at the close bond Josh and Travis obviously had. The older of the two (recently Josh found out that Travis was 21 and held back a few years because of his drug/alcohol problem) was sober that day, although a bit hungover.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Abigal glaring at him, her arms that seem to be growing thinner by the day crossed over her chest. She looked sick, her thin hair pulled up in a messy bun, skin a yellow-orangeish color and extremely dry. Her breathing was labored, and Oli’s eyebrows furrowed in concern.

He looked at her full on, just for the smaller girl to turn away in disgust.

He made a mental note to ask Josh to talk to her, since she’s obviously infatuated with him and hates Oli’s guts for whatever reason.

When the bell finally rang for class to end, a hallelujah chorus set off in Oli’s head. Today was the worst day he had ever encountered thus far, with Abigal shooting him daggers the whole time and Kaitlyn making a mockery out of his and Josh’s relationship (thankfully, though, his mother sent her to the principal’s office).

They were walking home, the boys’ hands laced together and Oli’s mom trailing a few feet behind them. His mood had slowly began to lift again, but as soon as the house was in view, it burrowed into the pits of Hell.

Sitting on the front porch, his hands folded underneath his chin and staring intently ahead, was his father.

Oli could recognize him anywhere. He looked distinctively like him, and much hasn't changed in the last 17 years. Josh saw the connection and threw Oli a questioning look.

Oli let go of his hand and leaned forward so his lips was just next to Josh's ear. "Go home. I have a feeling this is going to get ugly and I don't want to risk you getting hurt... and don't let him see you."

Josh nodded, gulping. He turned and retraced his steps. Out of the corner of his eye, Oli could see the teenager lifting himself over the fence and into his neighbor's yard.

Carol stood beside her son, hand over her mouth and tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. They stood there, staring at the unmoving figure. For a moment, Oli thought it was an hallucination, or a nightmare from the depths of his mind.

Ian looked down the street. He stood up when he spotted the two people he wanted to see and gestured them over, pointing at the door.

Hesitantly, the duo approached the man they haven't seen in 17 years, Oli stopping his mom from running over by gripping her elbow. Whenever she tried to get away, he tightened his hold, shooting her a don't or else you'll get hurt look. She nodded, knowing far too well of the pain Ian could inflict.

They stopped in front of the home. Ian walked to the front door and tapped the lock. Carol slowly pulled her keys out of her purse and, together, mother and son walked down the pathway, up the steps, and on to the porch.

“What are you doing here?” Oli asked once they were inside, venom lining his words. He balled his fists, shooting his father what he hoped was his most intimidating look.

“Now, now Oliver. I’m just here to talk.” Ian cooed. He locked eyes with his ex wife. “About Tommy.”

Oli’s mom slowly took off her jacket and hung it on the coat rack, biting her bottom lip. Her voice was strained when she spoke. “What about Tommy?”

“I’m sure you didn’t tell Oliver the whole truth, now did you?” Ian continued, voice dripping with forced sweetness. “I mean, you kept the truth from me for so long, and sadly, I wasn’t aware until just last week.”

He pulled out the letter to prove his point and waved it in front of Carol’s face. The woman went white. Oli faltered in his defensive pose, looking between his parents with a confused and slightly hurt expression. “What do you mean? Tommy just… died… right?” He settled his gaze on his mother. “Mum?”

Ian barked a laugh. “You didn’t even make up a story! You just told him he died and the kid was so stupid he didn’t even ask how.”

Oli lowered his head. Carol’s eyes turned into slits. “Don’t talk about my son that way.”

Ian sneered, looking around the room. He went to the foot of the stairs and glanced upwards, his lip curled in disgust. “You thought you could escape me, didn't you, Carol? You just hated me so much that you had to leave the country... and settle for this pathetic excuse of a house."

“What are you talking about, Ian?” Her voice raised an octave, and Oli took that as a sign that she was getting emotional. He stayed by her side as she moved to stand face to face with her ex husband. “I loved you, no, I still love you. I left because of a job opportunity. I left because that house held bad memories and I just wanted to start fresh… but I… I still want to be with you.”

“Too bad the feeling isn’t mutual.” Ian replied bluntly. He grabbed Carol’s wrist when she tried to get away and frowned at her. Oli tensed again, glaring at the cunt he used to call 'daddy'. “I wasn’t done speaking to you.”

“Well I’m done listening.”

“Just stop, Carol.” He snarled. Ian looked down at his son and shook his head. “So naive… 22 years old and so naive. You don’t know a thing, do you?”

“Ian, st-”

“SHUT UP.” He shouted, applying more pressure to her wrist. She cried out in pain, but quickly suppressed it, knowing that any indication it hurt would just motivate him more.

“Let go of my mum!” Oli shouted, attempting to loosen his father’s steel grip. Ian pushed him away with so much force that Oli fell backwards, an astonished look on his face.

“Tommy died because your mother let him die.” Ian spat out. “He wasn’t even my kid. This whore went out and cheated on me, got pregnant, and one day while I was on a business trip, let the real father see his son. That scum — Thames, or whatever his name was — killed Tommy.” He took out the letter and threw it in Oli’s direction, who hesitantly read it.

He didn’t believe his father’s words until he saw it in black and white and in his mother’s penmanship.

“Mum… why didn't you tell me?” He murmured, feeling more dejected than ever before. Oli glanced up at the woman, bottom lip shaking. She was sobbing now. “Why wouldn’t you tell me the truth?”

“I’m so sorry, Oli!” She cried out. With Ian distracted, she managed to release herself from his grip and ran upstairs. Ian responded within seconds, chasing after her and pinning her against a wall on the second floor.

“DON’T MOVE, YOU WHORE.” He shouted.

Oli’s head was still spinning with the news. He barely registered what happened, his brain swirling with different emotions. Hurt. Confused. Angry. Betrayed. If his mother lied about his little brother's death, the 22 year old wondered what else she could've lied about.

The warning in his grandmother’s letter had abandoned his brain, and the young man got up and went into the kitchen, giving his mother one final, sorrow-filled glance. He didn't wait long enough to gauge her reaction.

Within seconds, he could hear his parents arguing; his mother shouting about how he didn’t need to do that, that it was in the past and should've stayed in the past, Ian replying with variations of insults.

Their shouts were growing increasingly loud, and he clutched the edge of the counter like his life depended on it, cursing repeatedly and the tears finally streaming down his cheeks.

He always thought his dad was the one who tore this family apart when he left, but really it was his mom. She had been keeping this lie up for so long, she probably didn’t even remember the truth until his dad brought it up. Everything was her fault.

There was a crash. Ian said, “Don’t you ever do that again, you filthy whore.” The floorboards creaked as he took a step forward.

Oli squeezed his eyes shut, wishing that they’ll stop.

They did, but not in the way Oli intended.

Carol screamed, begging for him to let go, but was quickly cut off with a string of curse words from his father’s lips. A succession of bumps followed, like something was repeatedly hitting the wall or the stairs, and another loud crash reverberated through the entire house.

All was silent.

His heart in his throat, Oli slowly left the kitchen, not really wanting to see what made the noise. He kept his eyes trained on the top of the staircase, and was confused to see only his father up there, staring down in shocked horror.

His foot hit something, and Oli glanced down to see his mother's limp form. Her eyes were closed, hair splayed out around her, and it didn’t look like she was breathing. Oli leaned over her, and reached out to touch her neck in the quest to find a pulse.

What he found, though, was something more horrifying than what he had ever encountered in his 22 years of living. His hands shaking, he leaned back and started crying, harder than he ever had in his life. Without hope, and too traumatized to do anything else, he gathered his mom into his arms and held her tightly.

Carol Sykes’s neck was snapped in two, her head lolling inhumanely to one side.