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The Calling (DrTrollinski & Zhai)

As soon as Carl saw them leave, he reached down to his pocket and pulled out his cellphone. He scrolled through his contacts until he found Jenna, and then hit the 'dial' button. He placed the phone to his ear, and then started walking around the house aimlessly while it rung, and rung, and rung - That was it, really, there wasn't anything else to it. He thought that no one was going to pick up, and that made his heart stop for quite a while. But then it got answered, and he was met my snivels and heavy breathing.


"Hey...?" Carl called out, awkwardly.


"Hi, Carl..." Jenna's voice sniffled. "What's up? Is Connor okay?" She asked. Do I tell her, or do I not? No, he had to tell her what happened to Connor. He was upset about dad, and he didn't know anything. He needed to know, and Carl wasn't going to be the one who ended up telling him. No, Jenna wouldn't expect him to do that. Carl wasn't his brother, he wasn't his dad, he wasn't anything but a friend and a carer to him - Hell, he was hardly even that. He was just a friend, someone who agreed to watch him for one night.


"Connor... He's been good for us, yeah. He was a little tearful before bed last night... He didn't want to sleep on his own, that's all. He came and shared my bed, and he was fine all night... There were some tears not too long ago, though... He's worried about his daddy, Jenna... Is--.. Is he going to find out when he comes home?" He asked.


There was a long silence.


"Yeah." Jenna choked, her voice more sad and distraught. "I--.. It's just me and my dad in the house, can--.. I don't want to leave my dad alone. Can you walk Connor here when you're ready? I just... Dad's not feeling great, and I'm looking after him while my mom's out at work. She's not going to be back until later tonight." She said.


"I..." He thought to himself and then scratched the back of his head. "Sure, but I'll be a while. I've got something to take care of before I can think about leaving... I hope that's not a problem." He said, and then took a deep breath as he peered towards the living room entrance.


"No, no, of course it isn't... I can come and get him, if it's too much of a problem."


"No... No, don't worry about it, I'm fine to walk him back, I assure you." He said. "What about you? Are you okay?" He asked.


"I didn't sleep last night." She gulped. ".. I'm so nervous and on edge..."


"I know, I know... Just... Take a nap for an hour, alright? Sleep somewhere close to your dad. You're fine, alright? I should get going now, though. I love you."


"Love you too, Carl... and... Thank you. For everything." She said, and then hung up. Carl tucked his phone away and then went over to the living room and walked inside. He saw Mia sitting as far away from Connor as she could manage, and that did make him crack inside a bit. He felt angry, because he'd been putting in all this effort to make sure Connor was happy, and now, she'd just left him sitting there alone, drawing. She could have at least sat with him, but no, she distanced herself as much as she could.


"What are you drawing, buddy?" He walked up and crouched down beside him.


"Shh..." He hushed him and then leaned in and whispered to him. "I'm drawin' somethin' for Mia." He smiled weakly and sniffled once.


"Ah... That's nice." He said. "I'll be upstairs if you need anything, okay?" He said, and then walked over to Mia and leaned over beside her head so he could whisper to her, too. "He hasn't got anything you can catch, you know. When I said 'do some drawing with him', I meant do some drawing. Not sit as far away as possible, watch TV, and act like he isn't there." He said, and then patted her on her shoulder and quickly made his way out of the room. Yeah, he was a bit pissed off, and he hadn't asked much of Mia at all - Was it really hard to sit down and draw on a bit of paper? Connor was focused, yeah, but that didn't mean he would appreciate Mia being there and doing something with him - It was what their parents would do with things like that in their free time. Sure, Carl and Mia may not have said much, but they still liked having that person there to turn and talk to if they wanted to, or to simply just turn and smile at.


He was in no mood to argue. With everything going on, it was hard for even him to realize how much he wanted to explode. Again. Why did he want to, though? Oh, I know, he felt pressured and stressed. He just wanted some cooperation, that's all he wanted. Was cooperation honestly so much to ask for now? Just a little bit of a hand now that he had to do twenty things in the course of twenty-four hours. He hadn't had a minute to himself since yesterday - He'd been running around, spending time with Connor, making sure he was happy, watching TV with him, baking with him, bathing him, and even letting him share a bed with him.


Quite frankly, he was pissed off.


He just went upstairs and into his father's study. He sat down on the desk chair, and then flicked the PC on. While he was waiting for it to start up, he reached up and rubbed his head with his hands.
 
Again, silence was the better response than verbally responding when confronted by Carl. While he spoke into her ear, not doing a great job of stifling how irritated he was with her lack of relationship building with Connor, she simply stared past him at Connor. Quiet. Stiff. Practically blank but listening; when Carl leaned away, Mia's eyes followed him all the way out of the living room. If she'd had x-ray vision she would have stared at him until he'd been so far away, she'd have to squint to make his image clear. At this point she didn't care that her lack of response to her brother was rubbing him the wrong way and clearly irritating him. Hell, him taking commitments and dragging her with him; just like now when he agreed to watch Connor and somehow again she was stuck with the boy.


Although Carl wanted her to sit closer, she didn't oblige. Mia stayed in her same place, grinding her teeth behind her lips and trying hard not to narrow her eyes in response to Carl. Connor's eyes kept jumping up to look at her for several seconds at a time, then back to his paper, more drawing, and all over again, his hand pausing and his eyes searching Mia. Having to get up so she could go to the bathroom, when she passed behind the couch Connor was sitting on - his hands quickly turned the paper over and he did the same thing Mia did to Carl; watch her until she was out of the room, looking more suspicious than she probably had. Accepting that the drawing might be something secret she declined asking Connor what it was and went to the downstairs bathroom.


" 'Just draw with him, Mia'... 'Is that so hard, Mia?'...'He isn't contagious, Mia'." Carl didn't say all of those words exactly but that's what he probably wanted to say aloud. She thought of more he wanted to say, quietly mocking him and taking more time than usual to wash her hands. After continuously turning the faucet to hot, she'd finally concluded it was maybe time to leave the bathroom when her skin was numb and even the hottest water felt normal.


Back in the living room the same thing happened when she'd walk out, and as she passed the back of Connor's perch his hands flipped over his paper and watched her until she sat in her previous spot. Certain Mia wasn't going to get back up and try to sneak a peek at his drawing. "Mia...this..is for you." Connor finally chimed after several quiet minutes, more scribbling, and more stolen glances at her. He gets up with his paper, creeping up towards her and stopping just a few inches from her. The paper was held up for Mia to see, covering Connor's face; and she suspected Connor was ashamed of his artwork.


"I love it, Connor." Mia reached forward, gently grasping the paper and bringing it close to her. It was a pen and pencil representation of Mia, and it wasn't anything like her; he'd used a combination of blue, red, and black along with the grey shade of the pencil to put Mia together. Although it was Picasso, it was good for Connor, good for five year old.
 
'What are you doing?'





Those were the first words he heard when he put his hands down on the keyboard, and that startled him. He looked around the room, and then got up and went and turned the light on. Alright, no problem. He was just tired, that's all. He shook it off and then went back to the computer and looked upon the Windows 7 log in screen. There were two users on this computer - 'Michael' and 'Carl'. Ah, Carl could remember how happy he was when his good old dad made him an account on the computer nearly ten years ago. Since then, with every new computer he got, he transferred Carl's stuff over and made him a new user, and Carl imagined, that even though he had his own computer now, that his dad would continue to make user accounts for him, no matter how old he got. Carl was nearly in tears of happiness when his dad first made it.


Basically, he thought it was the best thing ever.


Now that Carl was calm, he dug around in his brain for the password once the little bar came up underneath 'Michael' and his User Picture. His User Picture was cute - It was just a picture of Carl and Mia when they were really young, and it had never changed. It was them when they were about four or five, both in each other's arms, looking at the camera with big cheesy childish smiles. Dad loved his kids more than anything, and Carl was always made aware of that. When he was younger, no matter what dad was doing, he always had a minute or two for him. All it ever took was: "Daddy, can I watch you work?" and Carl would be straight up on his lap with no 'ifs' or 'buts' - It was great.


'C13A09R12L7M14'


Carl always liked that his name was first, but that was only because he was born first. Well, most likely, at least. He never really knew, nor did he ask about it. It took him many years to be able to see what his father had written in as a password, but when he finally got it - When he was about eight years old - he ran off and wrote it down somewhere secret and masked it as 'I gotta' go use the bathroom'. So, what he did, he went and wrote it down, waited for ten seconds in his room, flushed the toilet in his bathroom, and then walked back to his dad after washing his hands as if he'd been up to nothing mischievous at all.


It logged in, and he smiled.


'I asked what you're doing.'





Carl froze.


No, Carl. You're just tired. Keep working. That's all he was able to tell himself right now, because this was freaking him out, and the hairs on the back of his neck were really standing on end, and his legs felt really cold as if he'd just stepped into a bucket of ice. God, what the fuck was going on? He wanted to run out of this house, just screaming. No. No, It's fine. Carl, you're fine, you're going to be fine, stop freaking out, it's all okay and you're just imagining things.


He went onto his father's Microsoft Office Outlook and checked through some of the emails there. The top one. 'Mountain View Grand Resort and Spa - New Hampshire'.


Okay, that's a start. He clicked on the email that had already been opened, and then started to read over the message that was there. Carl frowned. Mom and dad had been planning a second honeymoon, it seemed, which was rather odd. He didn't think they'd have the time to do that at all.


'Dear, Mister Jackson.


The Mountain View Grand Resort and Spa is happy to be the provider of the special occasion you have previously emailed us about. We do hope that you are well, and we are anticipating your arrival, and all of our staff will be sure to welcome you with open arms once you arrive. Like you've requested, your reservations for all types of spa treatment, and all outdoor activities, have all been confirmed for your stay in late September, starting from September 22nd, and ending on October 15th.


We do hope that you and your wife are looking forward to your stay. Your luxury guest suite has been reserved for that month - We do apologize for how long it's taken for that room to be available, and if you ever need anything during your stay in order to make your experience more enjoyable, please do let us know. Your guest suite comes accompanied with on-the-house twenty-four hour room service for those cold nights when you need a hot cup of coffee or cocoa.


Yours sincerely,


The Mountain View Grand Resort and Spa Management Team.





Interesting. Dad was being nice and romantic this year - Christ, this was going to have a hefty pricetag, that was for sure. Carl was quite jealous, actually, he wished that they were being brought along, but he knew for a fact that if that was the case, all of the sent emails that he quickly flicked through wouldn't have said 'second honeymoon', and would have definitely said something about him and Mia.


'Answer me!'





That whisper was louder.


"Fuck off!" He yelled back.


Oh shit. What did he just do? He got whispered to, and now he was telling the whisper to fuck off? What was with that? Okay, this was getting odd, he needed to get out of here - Their next stop was going to be New Hampshire, that went without saying. He needed to dig around on the computer for a little while longer, though, and then he wanted to hunt around in mom and dad's bedroom. He needed something from it, something from their walk-in closet.


That was the part he was dreading.


The look on his face spoke nothing but terror.


---


"I tried to make it as pretty as you, but I'm not that good at drawin' stuff..." Connor said, twisting his foot shyly on the ground. His eyes also met the floor, but eventually, he looked up and gave Mia a shy little smile. He reached up and gently pulled on her arm, and then pointed down at the paper and pens with free one. "Mia... Can you come draw with me?" He asked, softly. He actually wanted help with something, because he wanted to draw pictures for everyone, and he wasn't going to be able to do it alone.


"I wanna' draw a picture of... Um... I dunno'... I wanna' draw a picture of a dog for Carl, but I don't know how, and I wanna' draw a bear for daddy, a cat for mommy, and... A butterfly for Jenna." He gave her a cheesy little grin as he tugged on her arm again. "Can you please help me draw them, Mia?" He asked.


Ah, well. He'd probably cry if she said no.


But still... He thought Mia was pretty. D'awwwww.
 
This whole keeping a straight face thing, well Mia was starting to think she'd become some what an expert on it now. Normally she would have wrinkled her nose, crooked her lip, or furrowed her brows in protest to something she wasn't keen about. Now? Her eyes were straight, her mouth was still, and the other parts of her face were just as emotionless; Hell, there wasn't even a twitch in her eye that gave away her reluctance. Connor certainly didn't catch on that Mia was not interested in drawing with him, and by the look on his face she could guess that he was sticking by his questions and expecting her to answer.


"Sure, Connor..Why not?" She quietly responded; so quiet, in fact, that Connor didn't even know she had agreed to draw with him. Mia nodded her head as a second approval and watched Connor's blank waiting expression turn to elated excitement, his hands releasing his shirt that he nervously scrunched in his fists and his heels rising and falling in an attempt to hop. He was already gone from her side and back to the coffee table, this time kneeling on the floor and leaned over the edge of the table, pulling a fresh piece of paper. His hands hovered over the only four things he had to draw with until he plucked the blue pen, already starting to draw again. This time he didn't hesitate or stare into the paper but was already starting to put together whatever image he'd imagined.


Mia looked at the drawing he'd given her, finally taking a closer look at his work; he'd made her hair a combination of red and blue, her face was all blue, her eyes were gray, and her lips were red. There were blue puffs in the background she assumed were clouds and little black, smashed looking 'W's. Maybe those were the birds. There was a little blue stick figure in the background, far away it looked like, and it was waving and smiling. That was probably Connor himself.


Setting the paper down on the couch, lifting from her seat, and stretching for a moment. Damn, it felt like she'd been laying there for the last couple of hours when it'd only been maybe twenty minutes. Kneeling on the floor across from Connor, taking a piece of paper from an unused pile, and grabbing pencil - she watched Connor scribble a large circle. He put the pen down, grabbed a different color, and started scribbling stick legs, ears, and a tail. That must be the dog for Carl. Mia let the pencil's tip brush against the paper for the beginnings of a butterfly. In the past, drawing was a skill for her but she never pursued it; mother said art wasn't profitable. People didn't make livings with art anymore, like they used to, so she put away her sketch books in turn for more notebooks, more textbooks, and a schedule tracker.


Connor paused several times in the middle of drawing his dog for Carl, leaning further over the table to watch her draw. Eventually he stopped focusing on his drawing for Carl altogether and inched his way around the table until he was beside Mia, pressing into her side and watching the butterfly come together on paper. He was completely quiet, totally still, and the only thing that let Mia know he was still there was his elbow pressed into her thigh and his warm breath on her shoulder. When it was done, she initialed the bottom with 'MJ', draw a smiley face, and dropped the pencil, stretching her fingers and sighing in success.


"There. A butterfly."


Connor leaned over her, pinching the drawing and holding it close for examination. "Wow..." Was all he said, stills staring at the paper and running his finger over the indented marks the pencil left in the paper.


Rising from her knees, hearing the joints pop in protest and her muscles clench from being folded in the same position for too long, she pushed her hand through her hair and looked around. Carl was quiet upstairs and she wandered what he might be doing, what he might be looking for one their father's computer. Curious about it, she quietly walked out of the living room and into the foyer, staring up the staircase and what little of the open second floor she could see. Just as she was starting up the stairs, the soft rapping on the front door made her literally freeze - foot still on the step, hand on the railing, and eyes wide and staring ahead at cream carpeted steps.


Shit. Shit. Shit. Who was it?


Her eyes closed, pressing together tightly as her head hung and she ran through who could be at the door; the police, who had received an anonymous tip that someone was in this house so they'd come to investigate and arrest if need be. For once she thought of Connor first and how that would blow over with him being here alone with minors who weren't even supposed to be here, and that would just be added stress on Jenna and her family. The urge to ignore the door was overpowering and her other foot actually lifted to take another step until there was more tapping at the door, louder and harder this time. Whoever it was wasn't leaving.


Mia reluctantly turned around, descended the two steps she'd taken, and approached the front door. Through the foggy glass, the figure on the other side was fidgeting and looking around. When Mia finally opened it - after several more long seconds of staring through the glass at the face she couldn't make it - Jenna's head whipped around quickly and she sucked in a breath. "Oh thank God, I thought you were all gone." Her hand was pressed against her chest and she stepped into the house without Mia actually inviting her in, but Mia quickly shut the door behind her and ushered her into the living room.


"You wait here." She quietly said, leaving just as Connor turned around to see his sister and his excited yelling started. Mia rushed upstairs, to their father's study, and took in the doorway - "Jenna is here."
 
"Jenna!" Connor squealed and then ran right at her, flying into her arms and then getting lifted off of the floor. Jenna was hugging him so tight, although she was the slightest bit curious to why he was still in his PJ's. Then again, she was told that Carl had something to do and would walk him home when he was ready, but you know, it happens. She just sat there and decided that she'd help him with his drawings, as requested by him. Carl wasn't happy, though. He was in a really bad mood by the time that Mia got upstairs. In fact, it seemed as though he was talking to himself.


"You think you're so much better, don't you?" Carl was facing the wall, his hands pressed tightly against it. The whispers were going on and on and on. Was he safe anywhere in the house now? It didn't feel like it. The moment that Mia had opened the door was when it all went away, and he quickly turned from the wall and looked at her.


"Here? Right now?!" He asked, and then quickly made his way past Mia and dashed down the hallway. He'd locked the computer, so that was all safe, and now the whispers had gone - He was communicating with them, though. With everything he said to the whispers, he got an answer, and now it was gone. He was too panicked. He ran straight to the living room and found Connor and Jenna there. He gave Jenna a kiss, and then took Connor by the hand once he was finished with his drawing. He told Jenna that he'd been too caught up with things, so he'd take him to get dressed now. He took him upstairs, took him to the bathroom, gave his face a quick wash, and then took him to his bedroom to help him get dressed. Okay, slowly but surely.


"Carl... Are you okay?" He asked, holding onto Carl's shoulders as he stepped into his pants and then pulled them up.


"I'm fine, pal... I just..."


'Kill him.'





He shook his head furiously. "I'm fine, I promise. Let's just get out of here, okay? You excited to go home?" He asked. Connor nodded and smiled as he zipped his pants up and then started to fumble around with the button.


"Can you help me?" He asked. Carl nodded and reached down to the button on Connor's pants - his hands were shaking, so it was a bit of a struggle, but he managed to do it and then buttoned them up for him. "Thank you, Carl." He smiled warmly at him and then picked up his shirt and slipped it over his head. "Thanks for takin' care of me, I had fun." He smiled, Carl reached up and ruffled his hair, and then zipped up his backpack and handed it to him.


"You make sure you say thanks to Mia, too." He said. Connor instantly rushed out of the room and went and located Mia, and then ran up to her and hugged her legs.


"Thank you, Mia!" He grinned, and then ran back to Carl. "Carl! Can you walk home with us? Pleaaaaaaaaaaase?" He asked, Carl rolled his eyes and crouched down and turned his back to him.


"Climb up." He smiled. Connor grinned and jumped up onto his back. Carl held his legs to make sure he didn't fall, and then made his way downstairs. Connor was just sitting there on his back, his head rested on Carl's shoulder. He was having a great time already. Carl made his way over to Mia and then took a deep breath. "Mia... Connor wants me to walk back with them..." He said. "I'll be back soon, okay?" He said. He looked really stressed out. "I need some air... I've got some things I really need to talk to you about when I get back, alright... I just--.. I need a deep breath. You can walk with us, if you want." He gulped.
 
When Carl asked if she wanted to join their walk, she shook her head and waved them to go ahead. "N-...Nah, I'm just going to...stay here and wait." She replied, watching Connor look in her direction and his hand wave wildly at her, that same huge smile on his face that'd been glued to his face since the moment he'd come to the house. "I'll see you when you get back."


Mia waited for them to get through the front door before slowly pushing it closed, leaning against the frame and watching their distorted figures through the glass leave the porch, walk down the path to the sidewalk, and then out of her sight. Instead of rushing to the kitchen to watch them walk out of the cul de sac until she couldn't see them anymore past the Parkers' house - Mia retreated to the living room where Connor was spent most of his time while he was here. On the coffee table there was still paper and pens scattered across the top, and she started pulling the mess together; pens were reunited with the caps, the pencil was plucked from the floor, and the blank printer paper was gathered into a thin pile. Only after leaving the living room and returning the supplies to her father's office did she realize that all the drawings Connor had done - including the butterfly she'd drawn - were gone.


Returning to the living room and looking around for the pages proved fruitless, and she accepted that Connor had taken them with him. Even the drawing he'd done of her was gone, and she smiled a little to herself and shook her head at his actions. Maybe he didn't realize that when you drew something for someone, you didn't take it back. Whatever, she would let him have it. What was she going to do with it anyways?


Back in the kitchen, Mia wondered around aimlessly, not even knowing what she was searching for. She opened doors and drawers, standing and looking inside, including the fridge; which she stood in the escaping chilled air of the fridge until it stopped and she got worried she was going to spoil whatever food was inside by standing there letting warmth get in. Shutting the fridge and leaning against its door, she blew out some air and dragged her hands through her hair.


The house was so...quiet.


Whenever she was home alone before, the silence wasn't so deafening or so boring, because she knew people were coming home. Now? She had only to expect her brother and that was it. It wasn't bad to expect him but she was expecting...more; Nan and her parents. Hell, even Buttons the dog wouldn't have been a bad thing to come home to at this point, but even the dog had disappeared.


Upstairs, Mia ran a tub full of so much water she had to let some out before stripping down and submersing herself in the hot water up to her chin. She could see the thick waves of steam dancing up and off the water continuously, and she shivered not because she was cold, but because the water was so hot it felt like it was biting her skin. After a few moments enduring the uncomfortable stinging, she relaxed and lowered down until the water was over her mouth.
 
Once they got to Jenna's house, they were greeted by a man who must have been in his forties. He looked thin and sick - He looked a lot like Connor, or vice versa, rather. As soon as Connor saw him, he scrambled off of Carl's back and then made a run straight to the man's arms. He squealed 'daddy', and he was picked up in his arms and held up nice and close. The man seemed to be in pain when he lifted him, but that didn't stop him from being a good dad. It made Carl feel quite emotional that his family was going through all of this. He was just happy that the whispers had stopped, honestly. He was happy to meet their father, though.


--


"I'd like to thank you for looking after my son... As you can imagine, the family's been under a lot of stress." He said. So, this was Thomas, was it? Their father? Yeah, Thomas Carter.


"It was my pleasure, sir." He rubbed his head anxiously and then took a deep breath. "He's a really good boy. He was good for me and my sister." He said, and Jenna's father just gave him a nod and a smile.


"You... You've clearly seen that Connor's a little bit... different, right?" He asked.


"I'm going to have to ask what you mean, sir."


"He's... He's very friendly, Carl. Very friendly. He won't react to situations the same as some people will, and he'll have a full on conversation with you if you did so much as say hello or thank him... This one time, I took him out to see a movie, and when we went to the bathroom, a man held the door open for him - Connor thanked him, and when we were... You know, doing our business, Connor was having a full conversation with the man there. I had to apologize for it." He took a deep breath.


".. He's just friendly. There's nothing wrong with that, is there?" He asked. Carl was sat there with a cup of coffee in his hands, and he was in a room alone with their dad. It felt kind of awkward, and it felt like it was some sort of job interview.


"You don't understand, Carl... Because of that... He's so, so vulnerable. People will... People will take advantage of that." He said. "I'm... I'm dying, Carl." He said. Carl said nothing. "Terminal cancer. Brain, spine... I've been given a month, but... I'm not going to make it that long." He said. Carl took a deep breath and shook his head.


"I'm sorry."


"Don't be sorry." He said. ".. Please, Carl... When you get the time... Take good care of my daughter and my son. Jenna loves you. A lot." He sighed. "Connor... Connor's become attached. He was telling me how nice you were to him, how you let him sleep with you because he was scared, and how you treated him to pizza... I appreciate it, Carl." He said. He took a long deep breath and then looked down at the floor. ".. What do you think death's like, Carl?" He asked.


".. I..." He gulped. "I think death's like... It's like an escape. It's a reward, in some ways." He said, Thomas looked at him. "You've made all this progress. Wife, two children... Life itself, really... Death's a way of you being allowed to relax, to keep an eye on the people you love, even if you can't be here to do it." He explained, and then slowly looked back up at him. There wasn't much else said between them after that. Carl went and found Jenna in her room, and they were sort of doing a lot of kissing for about ten minutes - Yeah, good times. He did promise that he'd see her again. Then he went to Connor's room and sat down beside him on the bed.


"See you later, buddy." He smiled. Connor shuffled up and hugged him. Carl could tell he was upset. "Tell you what. Me and Mia are going to be out of town for a while, but when I get back... How about you and I go and see a movie together, eh?" He asked, smiling at him. An excited grin went across Connor's face. and he shared a hug with Carl for a good few minutes.


"Thanks, Carl... Bye bye."


"Bye, pal." He ruffled his hair and stood up, and then made his way downstairs and out the house. He shook Thomas' hand before he left, and then started his walk back.


Now he had to tell Mia two things:


The place in New Hampshire, and the whispers.
 
Mia quickly sat up in the tab after laying down beneath the water and holding her breath for...wow, she couldn't even remember. This was the second time she'd laid beneath the cooling water, holding her breath and letting the weightless sensation below the water relax her. In those slow passing minutes she was holding her breath and letting her body hover in the water, she thought of several things; Carl, Jenna, Connor, her parents, Nan, Marcus, school. More and more thoughts poured into her head the second time she went beneath the water, and Mia figured the thought were filling her head because the water had numbed her hearing. If she didn't have to focus on listening, then her mind could concentrate on thinking clearly.


Getting out of the tub, pulling the plug out, and letting the water drain out - Mia sat uncovered and dripping on the edge of the tub, watching until the last bit of water escaped into the drain and it gurgled out of sight. Great, now for more water. She figured that since her parents were probably not coming back for while and the house was on pause, then maybe they wouldn't mind a little extra on the water bill. The faucet was turned and the tub started filling back up again with more hot water, and the she watched until the water was just where she needed it to be before turning off the faucet.


Again she lowered herself quickly into the tub up to her chin and suffered the long seconds it took for her skin to adjust to the heat, and that almost painful prickling to subside. When it did she lowered again until the mouth covered her mouth, blowing slow, evenly spaced bubbles into the water and watching them silently burst on the surface. She looked up from the water's edge towards the bathroom door and into the cut of hallway she could see outside the wide open door. It was still silent out there, just as it was silent in here, and she figured Carl had not yet come home. Maybe he wouldn't come home. He'd seemed to find comfort in Jenna and Connor, and she wouldn't blame him for spending more time than he needed over there.


Mia rose up enough for her mouth to leave the water, allow her to take a deep breath, and then she sank back into the small depths of the tub's water. Slowly she released small bubble of air until she had no more to freely offer, her lungs were burning painfully, and she was forced to sit up again. She grasped the edges of the tub, pulled herself up, and dragged in a deep, relieving breath. Her lungs that were starving for air welcomed her deep breaths, and she decided maybe it was time to get out of the tub. Technically, she'd bathed three times and her skin felt soft enough to peel away from her muscles.


Out of the tub and standing in the doorway of the bathroom, Mia listened for something - anything - that signaled someone was home, and when she heard nothing, she quickly dashed naked from the bathroom and into her room. Taking her time drying off and dressing, she sat on the edge of her bed, scrunching and squeezing whatever water was left in her hair.
 
Carl arrived back at the house not too long after Mia went upstairs, and then went inside instantly and looked around. Fresh steam coming out of the bathroom, an odd silence. He was worried now. Just what the fuck was going on? He quickly made his way to the bathroom and expected to find his sister drowning in the bathtub. No, just a lot of water. This was getting odd. Okay. Alright. Why would Mia drown herself? She wouldn't obviously. She had no reason to do that, and he was sure that she wouldn't just give up on everything when they had so much left to live for. Being back in the house unnerved him, and now he wasn't sure if he wanted to be here. He didn't know if they were safe.


'She's upstairs. Kill her. Hit her. You know you want to. Do it.'





Carl ignored the whisper, but he grimaced. He quickly ran upstairs to her room and charged through the door, and then looked at her and quickly closed the door behind him as he stepped in. He wanted to get out of here. All day, he's been hearing things. Since last night, actually, he just wanted to go to bed and wake up when it was all over. If it was all over.


'You're pathetic. You're a pathetic person.





"Goddammit." He whispered desperately, and then closed his eyes and fell against the door and gradually slipped down it. He wanted the whispers to stop. He just wanted them to end so that he could be safe again, but it just didn't seem to be happening. He covered his face with both hands and then started crying. He eventually went into sobs, too. Manic sobbing.


"Mia, just make it stop!" He bawled. "Just make them leave me alone! They're speaking to me! They did it last night and they just won't leave me alone!" He bawled, and then curled up into a ball against the door. "I hear them... They're whispering to me and they won't leave me alone!" He sobbed. That would explain his odd behavior in the study, surely. When Mia walked in, Carl was there with his head against the wall, his eyes closed, and he'd said something when she was outside the door, although that may have been hard for her to hear.


Since this morning, he'd began to look more and more stressed. "They just won't stop!" He bawled. He kept crying for a good thirty, seconds, and then there was a harsh ringing in his ears. He couldn't hear anything that was going on around him, and then he just fell off to the side and hit his head on the ground. He'd passed out, just out of the blue, he fell unconscious, and finally the tears stopped flowing and the crying stopped. He went still, with just the steady elevating of his chest to show that he was still alive. Oh, and his pulse was fine. He was just fine. Well, aside from the fact that he was unconscious.
 
Carl's crying had already held onto Mia's attention, and she slowly stopped drying her hair, letting her arms fall with the soaked towel's weight. She angled herself so she could see Carl better, watching as his knees gave out and his weight dragged him down to the floor. His sobs were still low, or at least sounded that way as he stifled them in his hand, and she didn't rush over to him. The towel was folded over her door, and she slowly approached him, only moving faster when his soft cries turned into hollering. Like he was being strangled or something; then, she moved quicker to her brother, not really worried. He sounded like he was in pain but by the time she stalked across the room to him, his body was slack and folded over; she couldn't even ask if he was in pain, and instead gently stretched his body out on the floor to look.


No blood and he was still breathing rather evenly. Great so he hadn't been stabbed, shot, and cut on the way here by anyone; but the pain could be inside. She wouldn't know if the pain were inside him because, again, he was passed out and she couldn't ask. What now? "Shit.." She let out under her breath, sitting back on her heels and looking at her unconscious brother sprawling out in front of her door, which was also the only exit and entrance. Moving him was the first thought she wanted to put in action but Carl was heavy. Very heavy, and just straightening out his crumbled body was a task that left her panting and heat building in her body.


Damn. This was going to be either hard or just plain impossible but not trying wouldn't provide an outcome, and Carl would be left at her door until he came around.


Taking a spare blanket from her closet, it was spread across the floor with the edge close to Carl's body. Gently, she folded his right leg over his left leg, then his right arm across his body and pulled his arm until his upper body rolled; she did the same with this right leg until he was partially rolled onto the blanket. She stepped over him to the empty space by the door that'd just been freed up from his body, and pushed his back until he was completely on his stomach and the edge of the blanket was peeking from beneath him on her side. Pinching it tightly she lifted until Carl's body rolled again, and she continued this until he was at the foot of her bed and she'd pretty much gathered the entire blanket in her arms again and there was no where else to roll him.


"Fuck, Carl. Eat less, goddamnit." She cursed again, tempted to kick him in his side but resisting. It wasn't right to kick him while he was knocked out and as well, he was her brother. Pulling the small remainder of blanket from beneath him, bunching it up and throwing it on her bed, Mia plucked an unused pillow from her bed and tucked it under Carl's head. She went to her computer, searched what to do when someone passes out, and although most of the answer suggested an ambulance, she opted for home remedies - rest, water, and quiet. Well he was certainly resting and he couldn't exactly drink water, plus it was quiet in here.


All there was to do now was wait, and she crept back into her bed, deciding to lay towards the end of the bed where she could see Carl over the edge.
 
Carl's dreams were just horrendous. He didn't even know if it was possible to dream when you were passed out. He'd never actually passed out before, from what he could remember. He was tired. He felt tired, yet he felt like he was resting. He felt like he was awake, too. It was strange - If they're out for more than six hours, it's supposed that the person has suffered brain damage or has gone into a coma. Thankfully, Carl awoke after two hours. Carl opened his eyes and saw Mia lying there on the bed, and he instantly broke down into tears again and ran up to her, he collapsed onto the bed and threw his arms around her, and then put his face in her chest.


"Please!" He sobbed. "Don't make me sleep alone tonight! They won't let me sleep alone!" He bawled into her chest. "It's not me, Mia! I'm--.. I'm pushy and edgy and dickish because of them! It's not me, I swear, you have to believe me!" He cried. "They don't want me to find mom and dad! They--.. They were insulting me... They were saying things... They were telling me to do things I didn't want to do..." He sobbed, and then just fell lower, and his cries went quiet and he just held onto her as tight as he could.


"Please don't make me sleep alone tonight, Mia. Please don't make me sleep alone." He said. "I need you, Mia... I need you." He whimpered, to her, and then sat up and just hugged her and continued to cry on her shoulder. The dreams were horrifying. He didn't want to go in his room. He couldn't do it. He couldn't. He didn't want to - He felt like something was waiting there for him. It's what he saw in the dream. If he went into his bedroom, he knew that he wouldn't be there alone. He knew that there was some sort of entity in there, something that was waiting to watch him while he slept.


".. There's something in my room." He said, his voice going a little more high-pitched. "Please just let me stay in here tonight. Please." He begged. He couldn't express it enough - If Carl was begging to sleep with Mia, there was clearly something wrong. He wasn't flaunting about how brave he was anymore, he was just terrified, shaking, and crying once again.
 
The sudden weight shifting her bed and whatever was restricting her breathing, tore Mia out of a sleep she had just fallen deep into. Her mouth parted, trying to take in additional breaths but finding it difficult due to whatever was clasped around her chest. There was crying and sobbing somewhere close to her, and when she could calm down enough to look at what was attached to her - it was Carl. "Car -" She choked out, still trying to bring in more air despite his increasing hold around her. What was wrong? Why was he doing this? She could hear her brother's sobs increase, getting louder, and she could hear his saying something into her shoulder; his voice sounded loud but still she could barely make up out his words. There was something about nightmares, voices, and wanting to stay here with her tonight.


Mia's hands tried to push Carl away just enough to hear him, as well as enough space for her to actually breathe instead of taking in these small breaths that were beginning to make her lightheaded. "Carl-...P-Please!" Harder, she pushed and still he didn't budge; it felt like he'd actually pulled himself closer and she whined, beginning to thrash and wiggle out of his grasp. Her hands felt for his against her back, and she peeled them apart just enough for her to roll out of his arms, off the edge of the bed, and onto the floor. On her hands and knees, she coughed and dragged into lung's full of air; still, she was trying to figure out what was going on with her brother and she could still hear him pleading for something.


Using the edge of the bed for support, she pulled herself onto her knees and leaned against the bed, watching Carl sob and break down worse than she'd ever seen him before. "Carl, please. Calm down. What are you talking about?" Mia hands reached across the bed, brushing her brother's hair from his moist forehead and wiping tears out of his eyes as they came pouring out. What was he talking about - voices? What voices? She hadn't said a thing since before he'd passed out, and unless she was talking in her sleep, she hadn't said anything until just then as well. The television wasn't on in the house, her computer wasn't turned on; what voices, Carl?


When she heard him mention something about there being something in his room, she sucked in a breath and stiffened anxiously. The only time she'd heard Carl say something like that was when they were younger and he'd suddenly developed animosity towards his closet. It was so bad back then that he began asking Mia to get things out of the closet for him or he'd randomly freak out in the middle of the night; their parents ended up having to remove everything from the closet, close the door, and nail it shut. That door hadn't been opened in nearly ten years and she didn't understand why - out of all this time - had he began thinking there was something in his room again.


Maybe it wasn't the closet.


What else could it be though?


Mia stood up, pressing her knee into the bed and leaning over Carl; her hand patted his shoulder, rubbed his arm, and once again wiped tears and hair out of his face. "Carl, please. Just calm down. You can stay here, just..just calm down." Walking around to the other side of her room, Mia pushed closed her closet door just in case his raging fear was triggered from the closet, and back to her bed; again she only sat on the corner of the bed behind her brother, in between patting his shoulder and rubbing his arm to pacify him.
 
"It's--.." He kept on bawling, and then just lied down and set the side of his head down on her leg. He gently wrapped his arms around her hips and then kept on sobbing and crying. "They've been talking all day!" He whimpered. "They--.. They told me to do bad things, and I don't know why... They were--.. They were calling me last night... They were calling me, Mia... I could hear them... There were whispers just calling my name." He sobbed. It was all true. He felt so dreadful. He'd been hearing them all morning, and he was starting to wonder why - Why wouldn't they just leave him alone.


"They--.. They told me to kill him, to hurt people, they told me to do all those things and they wouldn't stop! They wouldn't leave me alone!" He said, and then broke down into even more manic sobs where he got to the point where he could hardly breathe. He was crying so much, and the horrible feeling that he usually got in his room - the anxiety - was right here with him. It had been here all day, and he felt like it was just getting stronger and stronger. It felt like there was something watching him. The only people here were him and Mia, though, so what could it be, exactly?


"I don't want to hurt people, Mia... I don't want to hurt anyone. I swear I don't want to hurt anyone! It's not me saying it to myself, I swear!" He bawled to her. His tears were just soaking her pants now, and he wasn't showing any signs of stopping. He was absolutely terrified, and his whole body was shaking like a leaf in the wind. He felt every single need of his body just getting stronger. He wanted to eat, he wanted to drink, he wanted to pee, he wanted to do everything that he'd usually do throughout the day, but yet, he didn't feel like he had the strength or the energy to do any of it. He couldn't get why it was like that, though. He couldn't put his finger on why he couldn't do anything like that, but he needed to try and figure it out, right?


No, he couldn't. He just wanted to cry.


"I love you, Mia... I love you..." He sobbed. "Please don't leave me alone. Please, please don't go away. Please stay with me." He begged. He didn't want her to leave. He felt that if she left his side, he was going to be snatched away by someone or something, or something was going to happen to him. Mia was his guardian angel, and there were so many things he wanted to say and explain, but he simply couldn't. God, he must have looked so crazy right about now, so that was rather sad, to be honest. He just wanted her to understand, and he was really hoping that she wasn't going to judge him. He just needed her right there in his arms, so that way he knew he was safe.
 
Nothing is going to hurt you, Carl. Nothing is here to hurt you. There's...nothing here. - Those words she wanted to tell this distressed, wailing Carl pressed into her side; but Mia felt there were no words to console him. At this point, it was past time for pacification and words of encouragement; so her hands continued to caress his shoulder and her eyes scrubbed the interior of the room, still looking for a source of noise.


Still. Nothing.


The conceivable speculation that Carl could be mentally ill or experiencing some kind of mental break down, crept towards the foremost of Mia's thoughts. What if...What if he really was going crazy? It would explain the 'voices' in his head telling him to do bad things; it would explain his fiery outbursts and uncontrollable emotions over the last couple of days. The voices are most concerning because they're encouraging him to...him to do things. Bad things. Things that could send him to prison; or worse - cost him his life.


Mia continued absentmindedly patting her brother's shoulder, with her real attention revolving around Carl possibly being mentally unstable right now. When she looked down at him, still curled into her side and his sobbing quieting to a hushed whimpering, it was hard to imagine him being mentally unfit. In her lap he'd receded in age by at least ten years, back to Connor's age, and he was as vulnerable as he'd ever been in that moment. This guy - flesh and blood, kin of her - couldn't possibly be turning into some mind-cracked person contemplating hurting someone or, even murdering someone.


Deep into the night the thought still simmered - no, boiled - in her mind concerning Carl being mentally unstable; all the while, her hand rubbed his shoulder until his shirt wrinkled and eventually her hand slowed to a stop. Carl's wailing turned to whimpering, and then finally that usual soft snoring; she could feel that his arms went slack around her waist, and before she'd even realized it, her leg was numb beneath his weight.


Carefully Carl's head was lifted, her leg slid from beneath, and his head placed on the bed where her leg had previously warmed. Mia groaned as she stood and stretched, the uncomfortable pain of blood rushing back into her leg making her wince. Carl was spread across the entirety of the bed with no room left for her but she limped towards her closet, opening the door as quietly as she could and reaching for the over-sized lounge chair her mother had brought her; the thing had rarely ever been used, practically still smelled of brand new fabric and plastic, and Mia could comfortably curl into it.


And that's what she did - set the chair up beside the bed, tucked her legs into herself, and waited for sleep to weigh her eyelids down.
 
The night had set in, but his crying still continued. He didn't know why it had been brought on, and he even questioned himself if he was mentally insane - No, those who are mentally insane don't see anything wrong with it. They start to consider it normal, they act like there's nothing out of the ordinary, and things have always been that way in life. If Carl was mentally ill, he'd have thought the whispers were normal. If he was ill, he'd have replied constantly to them, he'd have just sat there and got on with his work instead of trying to avoid them. Yeah. That's the truth. Anyway, there was something else that backed up that point...


If he was mentally ill, he'd have acted on what they told him to do: He'd have killed Connor, and he'd have hurt Mia in one way or another. He didn't do that, and he never would do that. Plus, the whispers didn't follow him out of the house. They were bound to this place, but why? How? When did they become bound here when he'd never even heard them before? Was it something that linked to the unexplained anger problem that he had throughout his whole life? Maybe it was just that.


He didn't know, but by the time he fell asleep, his arms were still wrapped around Mia's body, and his head was happily set down on her leg. It would - hopefully - be more of a peaceful night from now on. For all they knew, it was only going to take a week or two to actually find their parents, providing the hotel he'd found on the emails was the right place to go. There must have been something relevant about that, right? Yeah, surely there was. I mean, where else could they have taken numerous people to? A hotel seemed quite plausible, actually.


After he was fast asleep, he woke up the next morning at five o'clock. He'd slept right through, and the whispers had stopped completely. He slowly looked up and saw Mia curled up on the chair that she never used. He was glad that he let her stay in here tonight, and he was even more glad that she stuck to her promise and didn't make him stay alone. He wasn't as scared now, because it was day time, and it was less ominous and generally a lot less freaky than it usually would be. Okay, now it was time to start the morning routine (with something else on the side), but where was he going to do that this time? He saw how early it was, but he felt like he couldn't sleep any longer. Plus, they both got to sleep reasonably early.


Jesus, Carl remembered the times when he was about six years old, and on some days, he'd go in and wake dad up at stupid o'clock in the morning because he 'wasn't tired anymore' - There was a lot of things they done to get him back to sleep. Firstly, dad took him to the bathroom so he could go pee or whatever he needed to do, then he took him downstairs to get a glass of warm milk - He sat with him for five minutes and just gently rubbed his back, and once he started to look sleepy again, he'd carry them up to his bed again and tuck him back in. Once he was all tucked in, he'd sit there for five minutes and just gently caress his hand with his thumb, and by then, Carl would be back off to sleep. All fun times, right?


Let's face it, though. Carl couldn't do what he wanted to do in Mia's bathroom - that was just fucked up.


Okay, easy stuff... He sneaked out of the room as quiet as he could. All good. He closed the door over, he went down the hallway to the main bathroom of the house, went inside, locked the door, turned the shower on just to make it sound like he was doing something... regular. He relieved the pressure on his bladder, and then... Well, he sat down, and he got on with what he wanted to do. He'd been waiting to do this for nearly a week now - I mean, come on, it was okay, right? Well, probably not, but as soon as he was done and flushed the toilet and whatnot, he genuinely did hop in the shower for only a few minutes - that way it looked like he'd been in the shower the whole time, really. He managed to get his hair and body washed off, though, and as soon as he was done there, he hopped out, dried himself off, slipped his clothes on again, and then made his way to Mia's bedroom once more - He climbed onto the bed and just laid there for a while. He didn't know if he was going to be able to get back off to sleep, but he didn't care. He wanted to daydream for a while, anyway.
 
That familiar scent - fresh, but faint - roused Mia from that short, black slumber; and there was a silent struggled to peel her eyes apart without lifting her hands to do it, and she squinted between wade of hair teasing in front of her face. A little light from outside stole between the parted curtains and sliced through the entire room; a single, bright yellow sliver of light from one corner to the other.


So it was morning. Great.


On the bedside table - the digital face of the plain clock read eight; or maybe it was nine. Mia's vision was still blurry and it was the best she could see without whipping her head to the side to get the stray hair out of her line of sight.


Although her sight was impaired, it was clear enough to see that Carl had not only moved on the bed but it looked like he'd...changed clothes? The light in the room betrayed that he'd left and showered, because his hair still looked glossy and weighed with whatever water remained on the strands. "What time is it?" The sound that came out was broken and harsh, and even surprised Mia after the fact. She cleared her throat, lazily working to untuck an arm, free her hand, and move hair from her face. That one little movement she made sent a stiff, painful sensation humming through the entirety of her body; and she groaned against the intense sensation wrecking her muscles.


Christ...her back felt broken, her legs were definitely numb, and not to mention - being folded like a sardine in the chair all night made getting out of the damn thing more work than it seemed worth. Mia was tempted to ask Carl to just push her out; tip the chair and empty her body onto the floor, and she'd recover from whatever impact that made later. Right now - she needed to stretch.


Mia took her time - not that she was on the clock or rushing to get somewhere - groaning as she unfolded her contorted body out of the chair. In the end, she exhaled so deeply that her lungs panicked to get more air; there was dizziness for a few seconds and her legs nearly gave out during the stretch, but no harm done otherwise.
 
Carl had been awake this whole time, perfectly awake. Yeah, it was great, to be quite honest. He felt lively, he felt perfect - he liked to imagine that all of the whispering was just a mere dream, and was generally nothing to worry about in genera. He couldn't do that, though. Once Mia got up, he slowly shuffled himself away from the bed and sat on the edge of it - he stretched his back, yawned, and then rubbed his forehead with one hand. Okay, he felt a little bit more awake now, so hopefully they'd be able to get a move on just fine without any issues - Maybe then, it'd all be okay. He stood up, brushed himself down, and then looked at Mia.


"It's early. I've been up for a few hours." He said, and then ran a hand through his hair. "I woke up about five, had a shower, got dressed... I didn't want to wake you up, seeing as you looked really tired last night." He explained, and then walked over to her and pulled her into a gentle hug. "Mia..." He took a long deep breath, and then let it out in a bit of a sigh. "Thanks." He said, eventually, and then set his head down on her shoulder and rubbed her back a little.


"Really. Thank you. If you didn't let me sleep in here tonight, god... I don't know if I would have got through the night alright. I did get a lead on where mom and dad might have gone, or might be, but it's a little far away." He sighed, rubbed her back once again, and then slowly pulled away and gave her a weak smile. "If we're going to go and check it out, you might want to get your coat. It might be summer, but I'm sure it's going to be a lot colder up there." He explained, and then walked towards the door and gently creaked it open and stepped aside - He'd let her walk out first - Manners, and all that. "Why don't you... I don't know, why don't you get some... Shit, fruit, I guess? Get some fruit out the fridge so we can eat something, and then we'll talk - I'm not quite done with dad's office just yet, and I want to take a look around their room, too." He smiled at her and then rubbed the side of his leg with one hand.


God, after what he did earlier, he felt a lot less edgy. Was he going to tell her what he did, though?


God no.


"Does that sound like a plan? I mean, if you'd rather stick with me and dig around with me, that's fine - Just thinking about time efficiency, and all that... Plus, I could really use a sugary cup of coffee right now." He grinned at her and then chuckled under his breath. He was only joking, evidently, but coffee would be appreciated. So would food, in all fairness. As long as he didn't drink too much coffee, he'd probably be fine - He didn't want to have the world falling out of his ass again, because that would just be disastrous.
 
Whatever happened last night - whatever it was, if there was even a label for last night - hadn't completely dissipated from the atmosphere in the room, but it wasn't heavy on their shoulders this morning. At least it didn't seem heavy on Carl's shoulders; and if he wasn't talking about it, then she wasn't going to light the fire on that whatever it was last night. The situation seemed to have died in the night and been swept under the bed, out of mind and out of sight.


Still Mia felt her mind becoming active again trying to put words to what happened last night with Carl, but she was unfortunately - or luckily - coming up empty on what to call it. Hell, she didn't even want to remember it! Looking at Carl now - standing and in action again - is the complete opposite of him last night - scared as Hell and toddler-like; on the floor, passed out, whining with tears pouring out of his eyes while his hands clawed to keep her close. Voices; last night he was talking about voices. Damn, she'd actually considered he'd had a mental break after all this time and looking at him now it's still hard to tell if he's mentally broken or he's perfectly fine.


He looks fine. Kind of Carl, coming back to his full capacity self.


"It's fine Carl." The corners of her lips curled into a smile. It's always fine. It's always okay.


Carl's mentioning of food was like a reminder to her body, and that absent hunger feeling in her stomach now turned into a back bending, tight scrunching, painful ache in the bottom of her stomach. Nauseous followed and she barely feigned a gag, quickly rushing past Carl and into her bathroom. Cold water to the face and a quick pee break. It didn't curb the hunger pain - yes, pain - but she felt better making it down the stairs without holding in a bladder and starving at the same time.


"If you want to go up there, I'll go. You know that." He should know that. After all this time, Carl shouldn't have to ask if she would follow him somewhere. Unless it was to Jenna's house - she still wasn't so keen on that.
 
Carl waited for her, and then followed her out of the room once she returned. Okay, this could be much worse, right? Yeah, it could. He just hoped that she had faith that he hadn't gone completely insane after last night - all the things that had happened had really caused him to be a real dick to just about everyone, and even when Connor was here, he had to hold back the power to actually not flip out in front of him. It sucked, really, but it was better than nothing wasn't it? At least he managed to hold back, because Connor didn't understand him like Mia did - Mia knew him from birth. Mia knew what he could be like. Mia had been there when he was younger when he went off into his tantrums and would throw stuff around and scream at mom and dad.


Yeah, Mia knew him more than anyone. You're talking about the people that used to bathe together when they were younger, that used to lie in bed in each other's arms and watch movies together. You're talking about the two people that are each other's everything, and without each other, they'd probably just fall apart. Forget what you know about love, forget what you know about bravery, and forget what you know about understanding - I can guarantee that these two have already topped it at one point or another. It's just how they were - They were together like glue.


And to prove it all, Mia said one thing.


"If you want to go up there, I'll go. You know that."


Told you, didn't I?


Running into the line of danger for each other. That's loyalty and love right there - For all Mia knew, Satan himself could have been standing up there in that room, but did she care? Well, it certainly didn't seem like it, seeing as it was for her brother, and all? God, Carl would throw himself off a bridge if it was for his sister. He'd take a bullet to the heart, he'd do many things, just to make sure that she was safe. He didn't know that if he died, she probably would, too - I don't think Mia knew that the same thing applied in reverse, but I'm not going to judge that.


"Yeah, let's go." Carl said, and then lead her back up the stairs yet again, and then walked down towards their parents' room. "We'll eat after this. I know what I'm looking for - We just need to be careful. I don't think that we're in danger, I just... Ugh. Y'know what I mean, right?" He said, looking at her and then shrugging. She probably didn't. Why did they need to be careful? They didn't, really. Carl just felt a little bit paranoid, that was all. It was daytime.


It's okay, Carl.





Yep. It was okay. Once he pushed through the door of the bedroom, he pointed over to the walk-in closet at the far left of the room and took a deepp breath. "Mia, would you mind checking that out, please? Just search it for anything useful - There's something else in there that we need to get, because dad showed me it once. We'll need to put in a joint effort to actually get it, though, so just dig around and see if you can find anything that might come in handy, and once you've done that, just give me a shout. I need to look for something over..." He pointed to 'dad's side' of the king bed. "There." He nodded, and then walked over. Okay. Now came the hard part of figuring out what floorboard it was. God, it had been years. He needed to find it, though.
 
Mom was right.


Dad was a hoarder...


Loose paper started escaping the closet from the moment the door was pulled open, and the more the door gave - the more paper came. By the time the door was fulled opened a whole stack of loose piled paper had leaned onto it's side and spread at Mia's feet. When the light outside the closet door was pushed up and the ceiling light brightly came to life - Mia could see there were more stacks of loose paper, along with folders and binders and brief cases and boxes. The overhead shelf also served as extra hoarding and stacking space, with straps from smaller bags hung up. Probably filled with more paper.


Carl wanted her to start searching for something useful - but where to start?!


Between all of the crap crowding the closet, there were small spaces; maybe from her Dad stepping in to look for something. Kind of like his makeshift path to get in the closet and get out without actually cleaning the closet to clear a real path in and out.


Okay. Work smarter, not harder. Start from here and work in.


Mia shook her feet free of the weight from the papers that initially snuck out of the open door. On the first handful of papers, there were just a bunch of digits and letters; all scrambled together in random combinations with marker and highlighter sporadically scribbled on the pages. Maybe a bill or something to do with Dad's work? At the bottom of each page there was a signature - the same handful repeating randomly on the pages - and dollar symbols following a series of codes. Mia deduced it must be for Dad's work, stacked the seen papers outside the closet, and grabbed for the next handful, quickly thumbing through the pages for something unorthodox from what had already been reviewed.


More paper. More symbols. More numbers. More letters. More highlighter. More pen. More paper.


Eventually the first four stacks, nearly Mia's shoulder height as she knelt on the floor, had been gone through and moved out of the way. When the loose paper lessened and the folders and binders started, Mia felt a tinge of excitement at looking through something other than loose papers and codes. By the time folders were started, Mia could feel the subtle sting on her fingers from paper cuts. Ignoring the annoying sting on her hands, she started opening folders and once again skimming the contents. Near the end of the second pile of folders, Mia peeled open an older looking folder expecting to find more of the same contents; but she slowly lifted a thick certificate that laid lone inside.


Mia flipped the certificate over several times, rubbing her thumb over the raised seal in the lower right corner, and stared at the name on the front. Cody Jackson. A birth certificate that wasn't dated much older than their own birth certificate, and there was only a paternal signature from... Michael Jackson. Again the certificate was flipped over several times before Mia stashed it back into the folder, shoved it between a stack outside the closet, and knelt down again to keep going through the others. As she worked further into the closet, the certificate was still fresh and hot in her mind, and she tried to forget it by stacking more onto the pile the certificate was in. She's stacked so much on that one pile that it leaned over and spread neatly against the length of the wall.


There was only four stacks left inside the closet, all neatly stacked wall to wall at the very back of the closet; plus the briefcases hung from the rack and the boxes stored on the overhead shelf. "Carl..what am I supposed to be looking for?" Mia whined softly, thinking that the question she'd finally decided to ask after however long she'd been doing this, should have been the initial question when she started this. She rolled from her knees and onto her behind, back against the wall and legs crossed at the ankles; she grabbed a fat binder that was exploding with corners of papers and opened it to start.
 
Carl was... Well, he was busy, he was gripping each and every floorboard along the side of the wall beside dad's side of the bed. Huh. It must have been here somewhere, now it was just a matter of finding it. He grabbed onto every one and tugged on it, and finally, when he reached one that was a lot closer to the bed than he last remembered, it finally came loose when he tugged on it. It slipped open, revealing only darkness under the floorboard, darkness and a glimmer of steel. Carl smiled a little, but he also felt a tinge of nervousness focusing around this one thing that was meant to be a secret between just him and his dad. The two things that Carl came in here for were secrets between just him and dear old dad.


Why is that, you may ask?


Because their mother didn't want either of them to know anything, the one in the closet was because of when they became teenagers and also became a bit more bold and daring, and the one in the floorboards... Christ, that was just a no-no from the both of them - She let their dad teach them gun safety and how to act around a gun, but she was fully against letting them know where Michael kept the gun. Hm. You might be wondering why he only ever showed Carl - Because, as harsh as it sounds, he trusted his son more than he did his daughter when they were younger. He knew that Carl would never run off and rat on him to their mom if dad did something she didn't want to happen, and this was just one of them.


A Colt Python revolver, right beside a box of ammo.


Dad always said he wasn't allowed to take this - He said that the only time he could take this was when he couldn't take it himself, and there was danger, and someone needed to protect the family. Carl still remembered how to load it from so many years ago, so many years of not even seeing it. The shine of the steel as the light bounced off of it, the rubber Hogue grip, and just... It was beautiful, even more so now that Carl was older and knew how much of a monster this gun was.


Mia had seen it once, but never in this location.


Carl? Carl had been shown it many, many times, but the secret in the closet was something that Carl had only ever been shown once, but... He had faith that he could get into it. It wasn't that hard, so he'd heard, and he'd actually tried it at a friend's house and it went pretty well, he just took things too quickly with it at first. It's a lot easier than it looks, would you believe it


He picked up the gun and the box of ammo and placed it down on the floor after sliding the floorboard back into place. He placed it right in front of him so that he could obscure the vision of it. He didn't really care if Mia saw it, but he didn't want her to run over and freak out about it just yet - He didn't want to have to do a lot of explaining, but he just hoped that she understood that they might need this at the most unexpected of times. It was a stab in the dark, but sometimes, just sometimes... that stab in the dark can strike something. He carefully loaded six bullets into the cylinder after making sure the safety lever was down, and then picked up the rest of the ammo and placed it down on the bed beside him - he stood up and turned around, and as he did so, he tucked the gun into the back of his pants and pulled the shirt down over it.


"Anything that could have been helpful. Looks like you got nothing but paper, but there's going to be something in there, surely. Even if it is in the paperwork." He sighed in disappointment and then walked over, almost tripping over the files and boxes containing the papers and such. He bowed over and picked up all of them that were in front of him - business portfolios, financial statement folders, the one containing the birth certificate, and all the other general information that was relevant to dad himself. A few of the folders were the same in terms of looks, so that was a little awkward if you were looking for anything in particular.


"Dad... Always leaves a load of old shit around." He said, and then carried them over to the bed placed them down on the ground, and then kicked them under it. Paper spilled out everywhere, creating one big clusterfucker of everything - Eh. That's one thing Carl had to fix, and that just pissed him off more. Ah, well, he'd take care of it later on, probably after they'd done this. They'd be able to leave the house tomorrow, surely, and then things would be... Meh, I don't know. Hopefully he'd find something that would lead him to where their parents might be - that was the whole purpose of him digging through their computer, after all.


"You ready to help me with that thing?" He asked. "Don't worry about his paperwork just yet. That's not priority - I was hoping you'd find something other than old documents in here, but... that's all there is. Sorry, I guess." He scratched the back of his head. "Anyway. You ready to do this?" He asked, and then walked up to the shelving unit on the far left of the WIC and placed his hands against it.


"Get the other side, we need to move this out." He said, simply.
 
"Great.." Carl's response to the question of what exactly they were looking for wasn't welcomed, and Mia exhaustively exhaled and leaned her head against the wall, letting the binder in lap slide to the floor from the weight of its contents. It was already bad enough that the shit in the closet was only eighty percent done and there were enough invisible paper cuts on her hand that she'd need to bandage her entire hand - but now she still didn't know what Hell it was they were scrubbing this room in search of. The binder she was currently thumbing through was closed, set aside, and she lazily started pulling through the piles, half-assed searching the page, and creating a 'seen' pile against the opposite wall.


Mia continued pulling from the last piles against the wall, ignoring Carl's removal of a pile outside the closet and the building tension against the small of her back. Sitting in one place for so long - going through pile after pile of paper, folders, and binders - was finally starting to catch up with her; there was the aching in her knees from the beginning position and now the pressure in the small of her back from sitting awkwardly crunched up in the closet's space.


Although Carl's request for help was heard, Mia took her sweet time lifting from the closet floor - quietly groaning as her body protested against the change in position. When she was erect, Mia quickly stretched and crept out of the closet, over the piles she'd created and over to where Carl was waiting, already in position.


Mia shook her arms and legs out like she would have at the beginning of a long run, and rolled her neck slowly in circles to the left and right. "I didn't bring my pushing steroids today, so I hope this isn't heavy." The fact that Carl had asked for her help on this meant that it must be heavy enough to need an extra back to be put into it. She lifted each arm and leaned left and then right to stretch her sides, and finished with one last arm-and-leg shake before pressing her hands right to her brother's hands.
 
He watched her prepare for this - this was going to be heavy, yes, but it could be much worse. They could be trying to move something that was made of metal instead of wood, or they could be trying to move something that was compulsory and much more heavier, but let's not try to over-think things, eh? It was more about getting the work done, so that's exactly what they did. Carl made sure that when they pulled it out, it was angled more towards Mia's side so that he could get in behind it. She could still get out, but this was just the angle that he needed it at and it made it a little bit awkward. Ah, well, they were getting it done at a slow pace, with lots of grunting and sweating in the process. This wasn't an easy task, not at all, but they couldn't really complain about it all that much when you think about it, eh?


Once it was out of the way, Carl stared down at what had been revealed and smiled. It was still there. He didn't know why he expected it to be anything different there, but you never know. The safe, the steel safe that had a traditional dial as a lock mechanism, not any of these fancy keypads or anything like that. He knew that dad preferred these safes to the electronic ones, anyway. They were more convenient, more safe, apparently. I can believe that, and so could Carl, to an extent. If it was him choosing, though, why would it matter all that much? If it was hidden behind the shelving unit, would anyone really find it, anyway?


"Heh, it's still here. The bastard kept it all here." He chuckled. "Just looks the same as it did the last time he showed it to me, almost untouched. But it ain't about the safe, Mia, it's about what's inside." He laughed a little and then scooted along up to it. Clockwise, Counter-Clockwise, Clockwise. That's all he needed to know, and then he'd be able to crack this motherfucker open. He'd seen inside it before, and he was happy with what he saw in there eight/nine years ago, so he knew that this time he was going to be even more happy. The safest place in the house, they call it. Well, that's what dad called it, at least. If you think about it, this was the safest place in the whole house. How exactly do you expect someone to know there's a safe hidden behind a shelving unit?


He ducked down next to it and placed his ear beside it. "I learned this trick from a friend. Just be perfectly quiet." He said. "You see it on TV all the time... They make it look a lot easier than it is. It's not hard to do, unless you don't know what you're listening for." He said, and then pressed his ear right up against the door of the safe above the lock dial, and then slowly began to twist it. He did it slowly, dead slow, just to make sure that he could hear the little noise that he was--


Click.


".. Twenty-two."


He continued going after looking briefly at the dial. Click. "Nine." He said, and then, once again, continued doing it - this one was going to be the harder one. The last one was always the hardest. The safe wasn't huge, but it wasn't tiny, either. The size was vulgar enough for you to not want it in the corner of your room or anything like that.


Click.


"Seventy-four." He said, and then grinned excitedly as he pulled away and then ripped the door of the safe open - they saw only a few things: Two boxes of .357 ammo, which Carl took right away. You never know how much they were going to need. They saw a piece of paper, which Carl instantly took out and looked at.


'Michael, call me - 8917567501'





He shoved that into his pocket, and then looked at what was left.


Money, and one hell of a lot of it. It was all stacked up, and Carl didn't know if this was his dad's personal savings, or their parents' savings combined. He didn't know, he didn't care. He just knew this - There was one hell of a fucking lot of it, and if any more was added to the shelf it was on, it would just be pouring out of the safe. He reached out and took hold of one stack that was held together with red tape (the kind that would tear the bill) and started flicking through it. Twenty notes, all of them crisp and clean fifty dollar bills. He smiled, flicked through them again, and then placed one on the floor.


He took out nine more. There were still so many in the safe that it looked like Carl had hardly taken any at all. Carl was actually a little bit worried by this - Were they really meant to be here? Were they digging up something that was perhaps meant to stay buried, or hadn't even been buried yet? Whatever it was, they were going to need it. They could come back for more if necessary, but ten thousand dollars was going to be enough, for now.


"This is ten thousand dollars of crisp clean bills." He said. "I know mom and dad would go absolutely fuckin' crazy if they saw us doing this, but I know that you know this is all necessary, because I've got a plan." He said, and then kicked the safe shut and stood up with the two boxes of bullets in one arm, and the ten thousand dollars in the other. This was hot money, or, if he was caught with it it would be hot money. He was keeping this with him at all times until he figured out what he was going to do with it. All of it was just wrapped up, bundled together with thin red tape. It was really official, no doubt. "Now... Some thinking to do. I've got a phone number, a place they're due to be, and we've got money, and a little tool to keep us safe if anything goes wrong." He said. Wow, Carl the mastermind.


Something was going through Carl's brain, but then he instantly blinked and quickly pulled out of the little area he was in and leaned back against the shelving once Mia was out, and waited for her to resume her position on the other side so they could push it back. Carl wanted to ask questions, though.


Ammo, money, and a phone number? In a safe? A hidden safe? Was their father associated with the Italian Mafia, or something? No, there must have been a logical explanation behind this - most men in their town owned a gun, so the ammo was nothing out of the ordinary. It was just the ammo that had him worried, and the eerie looking phone number.
 
Mia strained quietly the entire time they were shifting the weight out of the way of whatever Carl was trying to get to. When she heard her brother's triumph at whatever discovery it was behind the damn thing, it was time to reprieve that there was no more moving necessary. Since Mia didn't know - nor really care - what it was Carl was cooing over, she took the opportunity to lean against her father's desk and catch her breath. It wasn't like it was a lot of work but it was more than she'd done in weeks, to include the fact that she'd been sitting on the floor for the past however long going blind staring at papers. So whatever it was Carl was looking at now - if it was anything resembling a piece of paper - she didn't want anything to do with it. There was still the underlying sting on her hands from unseen paper cuts and a building stiffness in her fingers.


Dad's office looked a mess. Worse than it'd ever - ever, ever - looked before; but that could just be credited to clever hiding places, keen stacking skills, and Mrs. Greene's obsessive cleaning habits. Without Dad to tuck away papers and Mrs. Greene to sneak in here for a quick dusting - the office resembled the aftermath of a hurricane specifically racing through an office space, turning up every piece of paper, opening every book, and knocking everything not nailed down. Piles of paper that were relocated out of the closet now climbed the wall behind the door to the office; binders and folders lay haphazardly in the middle of the floor, and emptied briefcases were leaned against the opposing wall with their contents in front on display.


If Mrs. Greene saw this - she'd have a heart attack. Literally.


Maybe it was best to clean it up or at least restack it; or just put it back in the closet, close the door, and act like she'd never seen it before. When Mia was in the midst of mustering up the energy to get her ass off the desk and start on that mission, she stopped to listen to Carl start spilling off about something. Something she knew nothing about, of course; and she leaned back on the desk, staring at the piles of paper and listening to something about a 'safe'.


It shouldn't be so amusing to Carl to find a safe in the house since there was one in their parent's room - more specifically, it was in the corner of the bedroom closet. Mom said it was all irreplacable documents, family trinkets, and other important stuff they had to keep locked away. Mia was never curious enough to try cracking into the safe or continously badger her parents to let her look inside. So the fact that Carl was behind her having an orgasm over this safe meant that it must have something extra special in there, and since Carl knew about it, she figured it must be something only guys would get excited over. Thoughts? - a gun, maybe. Most teen boys would pass out of excitement before they got the chance to get at their parent's weapons but Carl was different, of course.


Mia rolled her eyes, shook her head, and smiled to herself as she listened to Carl start on about cracking the safe based off of something he'd seen on television. It would be too cruel to smash his dream by telling him that everything on television was fake but after several episode of Myth Busters, it was apparent that sometimes that shit on television actually worked in real life. After he'd spent hours trying to crack into that safe by listening to it or whatever crazy trick he was about to pull - then Mia could rub it in his face not to believe everything he saw on television; but until then, she glanced over her shoulder long enough to watch her brother press his ear against the safe's surface and start twisting the dial.


The urge to cough loud and interrupt his requested silence was almost too strong to overcome, but Mia managed to keep her intentions under fire and continued staring around the room. From behind, she listened to Carl call out numbers every couple of beats of silence; and before the third number, she sighed quietly to herself and imagined that if he'd gotten everything wrong - what would happen. In some movies, a safe with the wrong code would blow up, lock itself indefinitely, or set off some kind of alarm; and since they weren't supposed to be in here anyways, any of those outcomes was worse than it would have normally been. Especially the explosion or alarm scenario.


A little tinge of worry that the safe was going to explode in Carl's face made Mia look over her shoulder to where he was shoving something into his pocket and reaching back into the open safe.


Great. No explosion or alarm.


Still looking over her shoulder, she watched her brother's consistent leaning in and out of the exposed safe. Each time he had something in his hand that he examined and then sat on the floor; and from here, she could see the building pile of money. Well it was apparent that they weren't supposed to be in this safe judging by what was in there, and Mia felt like she was violating her parent's - especially her Dad's - privacy just by watching Carl stick his hands in there and bring stuff out. Damn it. Why couldn't what they be looking for actually just be some piece of paper or a key or something mediocre?


Mia listened as Carl started again on his plan - now having a ton of money they didn't need, a weapon, and some phone number. First of all, she didn't think they should be carrying around ten thousand dollars; if some thieve got a whiff of that money, they'd be stripped down to their bare skin to get every last bill off of them. Secondly, carrying a gun - at their age and especially a hot tempered Carl - was just the wrong mixture of wrong things; she thought about asking Carl to leave it behind before they left to wherever he felt they needed to be. Thirdly, phone number?; to who did that phone number belong and what if they weren't supposed to be calling it? It could lead to more trouble than it was worth finding and if the wrong people call that number, what would happen? It was only common sense that whoever gave that number to their Dad was only expecting their Dad to call it, not his estranged children.


"I don't think we need all of that, Carl." Mia got beside Carl again and once bit into her bottom lip as they both strained to replace the shelf and conceal the chamber they'd just robbed - well that Carl had just robbed. When it was back in place - at least when Mia couldn't push it anymore - she exhaled in relief that that task was over and now she could focus on the money in Carl's hand and the gun he'd taken out with him. "Who are you going to kill, Carl?" Mia pressed her hands on her hips, staring at her brother and waiting for his response. It would be the end of the world if her brother killed someone; and this would be the same guy who wouldn't ask out his current girlfriend until he was pressured to do it.
 
"Kill someone?" He burst out into laughter almost immediately and shook his head. "God no. I'm not killing anyone - You must be joking, right? The only time, and I mean the only time I would ever kill someone is if they were doing one of the following: Trying to severely hurt you, trying to severely hurt mom or dad, or trying to severely hurt me. I don't just mean a punch in the face, I mean the kind of 'holding a knife to your throat and inching closer and closer to spilling your blood' kind of thing." He explained, and then whipped out the gun from the back of his pants and spun it around by the trigger cover, grabbing the barrel as it hit the bottom of his hand. "You see that?" He said, nodding towards it. "The safety lever's on, it's all good. You could pull the trigger right now, and I'd still be standing." He said, spinning it back around on one finger and tucking it down into his pants once again.


"I'm not killing anyone, I can assure you of that much." He smiled at her, and then made his way out of the WIC and went over to the dresser at the side of the room. He walked over to it, placed the cash and ammo down on top of it, and then made his way back into the closet and looked at some of the folders that were lying around. He picked them up, slowly, one by one and stacked them up, and then carried them back to the bed. The ones that were under the bed had been kicked past a blanket that draped down to the floor, so they were completely out of sight. For now, it was a matter of finding something that could be a potential lead for them, and then they could worry about any other details that were essential to be worried about, and such.


Right, he made several trips back and forth to collect more folders and put them down on the bed. That was that mostly sorted out, for now, the only issue was that all of these would take hours to go through, but Carl had always been a man of detail. He picked up even words that may have been relevant to the situation, or even to a simple question that he was asking himself in his head. In his younger days, he'd always ask why, he'd always look for different answers to the same question, and it was something he used to annoy his Kindergarten teacher with - One of the most famous ones from his days of being five years old went something like this:


"Carl, sweetheart. It's nap-time, put the book down and get a snack and a drink."


"Why?"


"Because you need some energy to get you through the day."


"Why?"


"Because... Without energy, you'll fall asleep without even knowing, you might be standing up when it happens, or doing a painting. I know you like painting, and you wouldn't want to mess it up, would you?"


By this point, Carl had picked his little self up from the chair and was standing right there, staring up at her with a curious expression. It was obvious to them both that he was just being friendly and questioning. He wasn't trying to annoy her deliberately - It's why he liked his teacher in these years. Mia and Carl were in the same kindergarten class, and their teacher was just great. She rarely ever shouted at any of the kids, and she was really nice to all of them. Carl wanted to go back and visit her some day. He asked a few more questions, but eventually went and got some graham crackers and fruit juice and ate them, and crashed out on a sleeping mat like he was supposed to.





Anyway, after that nostalgia trip, he started to look over all of the folders. He didn't know if any of them were labelled, so he scanned them up and down. He found something on the bottom of each one, a little laminated tag that was stuck on with sticky tape. The four he was looking at read 'Portfolios', 'Contracts', 'Management', and 'Associates'.


He didn't like the last three words. In that order, it made it sound like dad was some sort of hitman, or something. That was hardly the case - Unless he could kill people on an international scale while also being home on time for dinner, dead on seven o'clock each night, I highly doubt that that was the case. He was still paranoid about it, though - Even if he did find something illegal, he wouldn't care. Thanks to the work their dad put in, they were the people that they were now. Without him, they'd probably be in a shitty town, a smaller house, a terrible school... When Carl thought about it, if you were smart, illegal, and knew how to make money, you and everyone else would benefit from it, wouldn't they? Eh, that wasn't the main concern right now.


"I need to look through these..." He said. "These ones are organized, they're... They look different." He said, moving one hand over the top of each black, pristine folder. "I don't know, everything I've got will take a while, but I need to look for something that might be a lead, anything, anything that could give us an idea of where they might have been. A lot of cross-referencing, a lot of research. If... Say that this was supposed to happen, dad might have left a message, I don't know. There's got to be something linked to all the fishy-looking folders, the, what, fifty, one hundred big ones in the safe? And a really bad-looking phone number, linked to their disappearance. If there's not, then I'll be a son of a bitch. Still, though, there has to be something in his emails, his work, his contact book, his everything. I don't know." He sighed.


"Shit, I haven't even told you about where we're going to be going to." He said. "Tell you what." He held up his hands. "Let's... take twenty minutes, half an hour... Eat some breakfast, have something to drink, a cup of coffee, water, whatever, and then while we're there... I'll talk about what I've found so far." He said. "So, shall we? Cereal and fruit juice, maybe? I don't know about you, but after last night, too... We've got some stuff to talk about." He said. "I'll explain what happened last night, too. I've got a strange hunch about it." He said.
 
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