found at the scene, it makes you wonder some more. And I have to quickly point out that he was the only redhead present at that point in time, as far as anyone knows. But having said all of these things, no one has made a cut- and-dried decision on anything yet. I’m only making a comment about the situation as it stands.”
“But the odds are stacked against him nonetheless, right?” Holly said. “Oh, my God. I’m a dead woman.”
Brian looked at her for a brief moment, hoping his explanation had made any sense so far. Then, he said, “The hints at the scene were so revealing they made the guess appear terrifyingly true.”
She stayed silent.
For a long time, Brian didn’t speak, either. “I’ve pressed the boy, done everything possible to make him open up to me, but he’s maintained his stand. Said he didn’t do it.”
“Of course, he didn’t.” Holly’s voice was oiled with the grease of perfect ire, perhaps anger at the ridiculousness of the charge being leveled against her son. “How could my boy have killed a man?”
Brian dismissed her question. Not that it required an answer, anyway. “What have you noticed about him lately? Any unusual behaviours?”
She shook her head. “He’s as normal as any twelve- year-old to be.”
“What sort of things does he engage in during his leisure time? Sports, books, movies?”
“He likes watching and playing soccer. And like any other typical teenage boy, he likes action movies in addition to cartoons.”
“Books, Holly? Does he read books that are related to the kind of action-packed movies he watches?”
“Yes, he does. He watches action movies as much as he reads stories that depict them. He likes when the stories are really intense.”
“Intense as in thrilling or horrific?”
A hint of confusion on Holly’s face. “Thrilling is horrific as much as horrific is thrilling. What’s the difference?”
“I guess there’s none,” Brian said, deciding to bury that aspect of the interview to avoid unnecessary protracted debate. He smacked his palm against the desk lightly. “I’ll let you go now. But please, keep an eye on the boy.” He stood up to get the door. “And might I say you should be ready to see more of me, in case the test reports come back positive.”
Chapter 4
“Get your sorry ass over here,” Trevor growled at the boy.
Robert inched closer towards the principal, trembling.
Since his enrolment at the junior high, he had always been going through hell. His two arch-tormentors had been the principal, Trevor Carter and the acting vice principal, Donnie Murphy.
“What’ve you got today? Any of your
Ordinarily, Trevor’s eyes were a shade of blue, but whenever he was busy bullying Robert, the boy always saw eyes as pale green as a wolf’s, something downright scary.
“Talk to me,” Trevor insisted. “Can I see any of them? Do you have them here?”
Robert shook his head, his trembling intensifying.
Trevor grabbed the boy’s collar and dragged him closer. “So, tell me a secret,
Sliding towards the brink of a sob, Robert said, “My mom doesn’t kill. She doesn’t hurt anyone.”
“Oh, yes, she does,” said Trevor ecstatically, still grasping the boy by the collar of his shirt. He looked down into Robert’s bleary eyes, and said, “What did I tell you about talking back to me?”
“It’s… it’s… an abomination for a troll like me to talk back in the perfect world of Mr. Carter.”
“That’s right. And how many times have I told you that?”
Robert paused, trying to remember.
“You’re a lot of things-horrible things. And as we both know, smart isn’t one of them.” Trevor released his grip on Robert’s collar in exchange for the boy’s left ear, clasping it between his thumb and forefinger, squeezing and tugging as hard as he could. “I’ve told you times without number to never talk back to me.”
Robert burst into tears.
“I’ve also told you to stop looking at your stupid scary pictures while you’re within the school premises. You have the tendency to poison other kids’ minds with that garbage. When you get to your mother’s-”
“I wasn’t looking at my pictures today,” Robert protested feebly.
“Oh, there he goes again-talking back to me. What a pitifully forgetful soul.” Trevor dragged the boy all the way to the toilet with his ear, not giving a damn if he tore it off the tiny skull or not.
Robert, who had been whimpering as he struggled to repress his pain, couldn’t endure it any more. He exploded into a very loud cry.
Trevor closed the toilet door, and locked it. He put his mouth to the key-hole and shouted, “When you get to your mother’s enchanted cottage, you could look at the crazy pictures as much as you desire.”
Inside the toilet, Robert was crying and trying to explain that he wasn’t looking at any pictures. He hadn’t even brought any books to school in almost a month since Heather Collins, an eighth grader, had told Mr. Murphy about the comic adaptation of
Suddenly, a voice echoed in Robert’s head. A scream.
Maybe he was scared of the space in which he had been locked up?
But that would be utterly ridiculous, because he was hardly afraid of anything like the boogeyman or any similar crap that kids within his age bracket considered creepy. Nothing frightened him-not even in the dark. Nothing, except the two bullies in his life.
Yet, he kept screaming.
And even about that same moment, he heard Trevor Carter scream, too. Apparently, he was poking fun at Robert’s predicament.
Robert collapsed on the floor amidst his screams.
And dozed off to a deep sleep that led him into the zone of another very horrible nightmare.
Chapter 5
Shortly after Robert and his mother had left the Sheriff’s Department, they walked down Cheshire Avenue to the bus terminal. Not long, the bus emerged from the distance and started to slow down. But as soon as the driver realized who they were, he put his foot down.
Kids gawked from the window of the bus; a couple of ladies exchanged glances, looked down at Holly and her son, and started to laugh.
Holly was busy waving at first, with the hope that the bus would stop, and she didn’t come to grips with what was transpiring. But then, when the bus sped past them, awareness hit her like an uppercut blow to the chin. She lowered her hand slowly, her jaw dropping. At that instant, she felt an internal exhaustion that threatened to engulf her more than ever.
Why had everyone chosen to be so cruel to her? What had she done to deserve all of this public derision? She wished she could procure an answer. But the deeper she sought a reason for their action, the farther it slipped away from her.
The thought of Robert going through this dark time together with her felt even more intense-so much it almost
