Say Those Three Little Words

Oli looked up, his father’s figure being slightly blurred by his tears. Pain was shooting through his entire heart, and he regretted the things he thought prior to her death. The young man couldn’t help but think that if he wasn’t so selfish and left the room, she would still be alive right now.

“W-Why?” He managed to spit out. He clutched her body closer, it feeling unfamiliar in his arms. “You d-didn’t have to… you… killed her.”

“Oli, I swear to God.” His father said, the fear coming through his voice. “I didn’t mean to kill her. I forgot how light she was and… I know it’s no excuse but I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

“You killed her.” Oli repeated. He carefully laid his mother’s body on the floor and stood up, head down. He wiped a few stray tears away from his cheeks and looked over at the home phone in the kitchen. “I’m calling the police.”

“NO!” His father boomed, and before Oli could walk the three short steps to safety, he hurried downstairs and picked him up from around his stomach. The 22 year old started kicking and screaming, begging for his dad to let him go, much like his mom did a few moments before. Ian clamped a hand over his son’s mouth and carried him to the living room, using a discarded jacket to tie the young adult to the closet doorknob. “Oli, shut up. Do you want me to go to jail?”

“YOU JUST KILLED MY MOM!” He shouted, squirming and trying to untie the jacket. “YOU SHOULD GO TO JAIL YOU CRAZY BASTARD.”

“Don’t speak to me that way.” His father said quietly. “I am still your father.”

“No. You never were.” Oli spat out. Ian took a step back and looked at his son with an even gaze. There was real hatred in his eyes, and part of him felt hurt that his son regarded him in such a way. The stronger part, however, could care less.

Ian leaned over. Swallowing a lump in his throat, he forced Oli to make eye contact with him. “You can’t tell anyone about this. We’ll keep this our secret. I have too much on the line to go to jail now. Do you know what will happen to my business if they find out their owner is in the slammer? It will go downhill.”

“I don’t care.” Oli replied, all emotion out of his voice. His eyes hardened. “You. Killed. My. Mom. You deserve to go to jail.”

“Oli… I don’t want to do this… but it seems I have no choice.” He got up and went into the kitchen, searching the drawers for his weapon of choice. When he found the one that held the knives, he grabbed the sharpest looking one and returned to where Oli lay. The boy’s eyes widened.

Ian leaned over his son again and put the edge of the knife against his throat. Oli gulped. “You will keep it a secret. If I found out you told, I will slit your throat faster than you can say ‘no, please stop.’ In fact, I should just do it now so I’d have nothing to worry about.”

“They’ll find out eventually.” Oli whispered. “You can’t keep murder a secret forever.”

Ian laughed. “By the time they found out what I did, I’d be out of the country. They’ll never be able to find me.”

“What happened to you?” Oli whispered. He stared deeply into his father’s eyes, looking for a sign that the person he called ‘daddy’ was still there, lost inside this stranger. His father stared back, cold, distant.

Eventually, the hardness in the chocolate orbs softened, and Ian leaned back. “I don’t know. I was angry. Hurt. Confused. I only came over to get answers. I didn’t want to kill anyone…” He sighed. “I wanted to ruin your lives, that much I admit to, but not like this.” He looked down. “Oli, please. Just keep it a secret.”

“You’re crazy if you think I’ll keep my mother’s murder a secret.”

Ian lunged forward, his son’s words sparking a new fire in his eyes. It was mostly out of fear though; the fear of getting caught, of spending his life in a cell, of everything he’s ever known disappearing from view. Oli moved his head just in time, the blade of the knife going through the door. While Ian was struggling to get it out, Oli kneed him in the crotch and struggled, rather violently, against the confines of the jacket.

When he felt the fabric loosening, he twisted his hands up and untied it, springing away from his father, who was reaching again for the knife. Oli took no time to think about his pathetic excuse of a father, getting out of the house and running down the street.

He ran as far as he could. He ran until his lungs felt like they were going to burst and his heart was beating so fast, you almost couldn’t differentiate between the beats. The sun was beginning to dip into the horizon when Oli finally collapsed, moving to sit behind a large oak tree in the middle of a random field.

The 22 year old didn’t know where he was, but at the moment, he didn’t care. His whole world was crashing around him and the grief was almost too much to bear. He thought about having to go back to the classroom, announcing his mother’s murder, seeing the reaction. He thought about continuing to live inside of the home, the crime scene, the holder of bad memories. For a split second, he thought about suicide.

But then Josh crossed his mind.

Struggling to his feet, he looked around for building lights or a pay phone, or anything that could help him. A gas station was up ahead, and Oli slowly began walking towards it. His legs felt stiff and wooden, and he tripped a few times before making his destination.

The bell above the door chimed. The owner looked up, and when he saw the young man stumble in, he instantly went to his aid. “Sir, are you alright? What happened? Do you need me to call the cops?”

The fear settled into Oli’s bones. “N-No!” He said rather too quickly. The owner gave him a skeptical look. “Don’t call the police. I was just wondering if I could use your phone.”

The man nodded once, although still skeptical. He led Oli into the storage room at the back of the gas station, pointing in the general direction of the telephone. Oli found it quickly and called the only number he knew that could help him at the time.

“Hello?” Josh’s quiet voice came through. He sounded worried, scared. Oli wanted desperately to hug him.

“Josh?”

“Oli!” He cried out. “Where are you? What happened? Are you okay? Is Ms. Sykes okay?”

A sob erupted from Oli’s throat. He fell to the floor again, overcome with the emotions he felt right after he found his mother’s body. It seemed like they were magnified, like they burrowed their way out of the initial shock. The only image replaying in his mind was running into his mother’s body and finding her internally decapitated. He could almost imagine the scene that played out prior: his mother pushing Ian away, he grabbing on to her to stop her from doing it again, he pushing her down the stairs, the fear in his father’s eyes.

“Something happened to your mum.” Josh said after awhile.

“Y-Yeah.” Oli’s voice didn’t sound like his own. It was choked, like every breath he took was a struggle. “I-I don’t know where I am…” he paused, allowing another sob to pass through before speaking again. “Some g-gas station. Outside of t-town, I think.”

“I’m coming to get you, Oli.” Josh said. “Stay put.”

He hung up.

Oli allowed the phone to slip through his fingers and fall to the tile with a clatter. Clutching his midsection, he curled into a ball and cried. He wanted to pull his hair out, to kick and scream, to run away and never look back. He wanted to feel pain again, like he did while he was running, because pain somehow let him forget about the haunting memory.

He absent-mindedly began scratching at his arm, just below the most prominent veins in his wrist. He pushed in deeper and deeper, the sadness lifting with the more pressure added. Eventually, Oli drew blood, although he wasn’t initially aware of it.

All sounds faded until they sounded far away, like Oli was underwater and trying to listen to the people above him talk. He took another shaky breath, sitting up again to give himself better access and leaning his head back.

The blood began dripping down his arm and hitting the title, but he didn’t stop. He enjoyed the relief coursing through his tired body, the maroon liquid just being a minor issue compared to all the horrors being washed out of him.

But, the pressure on his arm suddenly stopped.

Oli opened his eyes to find Josh grasping his hand with both of his, eyes blown wide and beginning to water. The 22 year old looked down and assessed the damage he had done to himself. It was a lot worse than what he thought it was.

Josh didn’t say anything, grabbing a roll of paper towels that the owner handed to him and cleaning up his boyfriend’s arm. Oli squinted, the pain from his self mutilation becoming prominent without the adrenaline pumping through his system.

When the mess was cleaned up and the paper towels discarded, Josh drew the older man into a hug, holding him tightly like he could disappear at any moment. He turned his head and pressed butterfly kisses up Oli’s neck, over the crook of his jaw, stopping just before his ear. He leaned back and pressed a desperate kiss against his boyfriend’s lips, shoving their bodies against the wall.

Josh’s tears released themselves from their prison and fell on Oli’s jean clad thigh. The teenager began trembling and pulled away, pressing their foreheads together. He brought a hand up to cup the elder’s cheek. “Don’t do that ever again, Oli. Please. You are so much better than that.”

“I’m sorry.” Oli whispered. He raised his arms to wrap them around Josh’s waist.

The teenager opened his eyes. “Do you know how much it kills me to walk in and see you doing that?” He pressed a feather light kiss to Oli’s lips and shook his head. “I can’t lose you. Please, next time, just come to me.”

“Okay.” Oli said, although the chances of him coming to Josh are slim to none. He always felt like he was being a burden when he talked to others about his problems.

“I mean it. If you ever have the urge to do this again, come to me.” Josh stood and extended his hand. Oli took it, grimacing at the pain shooting up his arm from the motion. Josh gave him a small, sad smile and lightly kissed the wounds.

“Can I stay at your house tonight?”

“Of course, babe.” Josh said. He kissed him again. “Anytime.”