Link to Chapter 3Reminder of content warning:
child abuse/severe neglect, on-page death of side characters, mild cursing
4
A thin ray of weak light lit up a path from the doorway and across the room to the bed, where Clark lay quietly, the blanket pulled up to his chin. He was so warm, and the bed was so soft. And the night was so…not dark.
It didn’t make sense—that the door was open, even if just those few inches, just enough to let in that tiny bit of light from the hallway. Ma and Pa had always shut the door. Locked the door. Locked him in. And not only at nighttime.
Everything was different here, though. So far, nothing was like it had been at home. Clark didn’t know what to do about that. He didn’t know what to think.
So when he woke up sometime in the middle of the night to the stillness and silence of the quiet farmhouse, he just lay there, staring at the open door. In his mind, he imagined getting up out of bed, tiptoeing over to the door, and poking his head out. He wondered where Martha and Jonathan were and whether they’d know if he did that—if he got up out of bed. He even imagined sneaking quietly out of the room and down the hall to the bathroom. Martha had shown him where it was, in case he needed to use it in the middle of the night, she’d said.
And he did need to go. He should have gone before bedtime.
But he wasn’t allowed to get up in the middle of the night for any reason. That had always been a very important rule.
Maybe Martha had been trying to trick him into misbehaving. Ma and Pa had done that sometimes. Tried to test whether he remembered the rules. Tried to get him to mess up. And certainly if he got up out of bed now, and Ma and Pa found out—
He scrunched his eyes closed and buried his head under the blanket. They wouldn’t find out. They were gone. A sob escaped him, and he turned over so his back was to the door. Then he curled up and tried not to let himself cry. But it was useless; the tears came anyway, and he couldn’t stop them.
Ma and Pa were gone. He was alone. And he didn’t know what to do. Ma and Pa had always been there to tell him what to do and what not to do. And they’d always warned him about others. Always warned him to stay away, not look people in the eye, not ever tell them about that one thing he was allowed to lie about…
…the fact that he’d arrived on Earth in a spaceship when he was just a few months old.
“Yer lucky we found ya when yer little ship landed ’ere, boy. Anyone else, it wouldn’t been good. They’d ’ve caged ya up, cut ya open, dissect ya like a frog. Little alien you are. In yer weird little spaceship.”Pa had made sure he understood that rule—that he wasn’t allowed to tell anyone anything about that. Ever. The reminders had been harsh. But Pa had said it was necessary.
Pa had also always said how it was a good thing Clark looked human, even though he definitely wasn’t human. He wasn’t human, and he wasn’t their son, and he wasn’t…
He wasn’t…
He wasn’t…allowed to get up out of bed in the middle of the night, for any reason, even to use the bathroom. Even to use the bucket. Not until Ma or Pa gave him permission.
Although risking getting up to use the bucket was always a better choice than having an accident in bed. The punishment was much, much worse if he had an accident in bed. At least, that had been true with Ma and Pa.
He had no idea what the punishment would be with Martha and Jonathan.
“Damnit, boy. Already five years old, and ya just don’t ever learn,” Pa snarled, grimacing with disgust as Clark cowered in the corner of the room. “Stupid boy. Clean it up, whiles I decide just how much it’s gonna take to teach ya better. Whaddya think, Abbs?”
Clark didn’t look up as he started crawling back toward his mattress, but he heard a grunt from the doorway and could almost feel the disgust from Ma. Why had he messed up again? Tears threatened to fall, but he blinked them back.
“I think the basement isn’t enough anymore. He’s either too dense to learn or needs a bigger reminder.”That had been the first time Pa had used the belt. And Clark had tried to learn. He’d tried so hard. But sometimes he just couldn’t.
Clark squirmed uncomfortably at the growing pain in his lower abdomen, wishing he hadn’t eaten so much at dinner. He lifted his head up off the pillow slowly and twisted around, scanning the room. There wasn’t even a bucket here to use. Which meant he
really did have to wait until morning and until he could ask permission.
And he really, really wasn’t sure he could wait that long.
Fear flared up inside of him then as he heard footsteps coming from down the hallway. He quickly closed his eyes and curled up again, facing away from the door. Then he held his breath and held himself very, very still.
Maybe whomever it was wouldn’t come in or at least wouldn’t realize he was awake. Please. He screwed his eyes shut tighter.
Behind him, the door made the faintest sound as it opened, and the footsteps stopped. It was Martha, he could tell. Her footsteps were lighter than Jonathan’s.
A flicker of a thought crossed his mind. Maybe…he could ask for permission now. Maybe she wouldn’t get mad. She had told him where the bathroom was, after all. And maybe taking the risk, asking for permission, would be better than having an accident…
But as quickly as the thought came, he dismissed it, an intense wave of dread forcing him to bury his head deeper into the pillow. No, he couldn’t ask. He was supposed to be asleep. He’d get in so much more trouble.
And he wasn’t allowed out of bed until morning anyways, and…
“Sweet boy, are you okay?” Martha’s soft voice was close now, just at the edge of the bed, maybe, and then the bed shifted as she sat behind him.
He trembled but shook his head. He wasn’t okay. He was sad and scared and…needed to use the bathroom. Maybe he’d be in less trouble if he answered her question honestly.
Martha must have been surprised by his answer, because he heard a sharp breath from her, and then a second later, he flinched away as her hand set gently on his shoulder. His heart started to race, making him feel lightheaded, and he prepared himself for what he knew had to be coming.
Whimpering, he shook his head again. “S-sorry. I-I should b-be sleeping. S-sorry. P-please d-don’t—”
He stopped himself, his hand flying up to cover his mouth. What was he thinking?! Tears stung at his eyes as he started to shake. Gosh, he was in so much trouble now. He just knew it.
And it was even worse because he didn’t know what to expect. Did Martha and Jonathan have a basement, like Ma and Pa? Or…did they have something worse? What if—
“Oh, my sweet boy, you’re not in trouble. I promise, sweetie,” Martha said, her voice soft, like her touch.
He trembled, unable to believe her words, because she must be trying to trick him. Ma had pretended like that sometimes. And he’d believe her, and then… His head started to hurt again, like it had earlier, only worse. A deep throbbing pain that made him slightly nauseous. And along with it, the uncomfortable pressure in his abdomen grew more, reminding him, yet again, that he
really needed to use the bathroom. With shaking hands, he reached up and brushed the tears off his cheeks.
“It’s okay if you’re having trouble sleeping, sweetie. I know this is a new place, and everything is probably different here than what you’re used to. I just want you to be comfortable. Is there…anything you need? A glass of water, or another blanket or pillow, or…?”
She was definitely trying to trick him. That was the only explanation. So he shook his head, because the answer was no to the specific things she’d listed anyway. However, the movement only made his headache worse again, and more tears came, streaking down his cheeks even as he tried his best not to let them. Martha’s hand rubbed his back almost carefully, but he couldn’t help as his whole body tensed at her touch. She was going to hurt him soon, he just knew it. He sucked in a short breath and suppressed a sob as he screwed his eyes shut even tighter.
But her hand just left his back then, and he heard her clear her throat quietly as the bed shifted a little. “It’s okay, Clark. I just wanted to come check on you. And I also wanted to let you know that you
really can ask if you need anything at all. I know…um…” She paused, and Clark held his breath, waiting for…something. And trying not to sniffle or whimper or worse. “Did you maybe…need to use the bathroom, sweetie?” Martha asked gently.
And it was suddenly too much. With an uncontrolled sob, he nodded. “Y-yes. Yes, I-I… I’m—I’m s-sorry. I-I sh-shouldn’t…”
Instinctively, he scooted closer to the wall, away from Martha, clutching his stomach as he moved. He knew punishment was coming, but he had no idea what it would be, and that made him even more scared. He cried, unable to stop it again, and his chest felt heavy as his heart pounded with fear.
Ma had usually left the big punishments to Pa. But she also hadn’t hesitated to remind him of the rules when necessary. And he’d just broken so many rules.
Yet…nothing happened.
There was just silence, broken a moment later by the sound of Martha letting out a long breath and the bed squeaking as she moved a bit.
“Sweetie, you’re…allowed to use the bathroom whenever you need to. Day or night. You don’t have to…” Her voice trailed off, but a moment later, the bed shifted again and the light turned on. “Here you go. Do you remember where the bathroom is?”
“Y-yes.”
“Good. And Jonathan got you some pajamas and some clean clothes when he was out earlier. Would you like to change while you’re in the bathroom?”
Pajamas? He turned over and risked a glance up at her through bleary eyes still filled with tears. Just a second, just a short glance. She stood there, a gentle smile on her lips and her eyes slightly crinkled at the edges with what looked like concern.
Not anger.
Not frustration or disappointment or disgust.
Maybe they had different rules here. And maybe he really wasn’t in trouble.
But just in case she was still trying to trick him, he’d better be careful. He closed his eyes again and nodded, and then, speaking very carefully to avoid stuttering, which Pa had absolutely hated, Clark said, “May I please use the bathroom and change into the pajamas?”
“Of course, sweetie,” Martha answered almost immediately. “I’ll put them in the bathroom for you, okay?”
He nodded, forcing himself to breathe slowly. And when Martha had left the room, the door still open most of the way and the light still on, he scooted to the edge of the bed, sat up, and then stood, wobbling as the pain in his head intensified. For a moment, he just stood there, trying to steady himself, and when the dizziness passed, he walked cautiously toward the door. Martha met him there, a small smile still on her face.
“The pajamas are in the bathroom for you, sweetie,” she said.
His eyes trained on the ground in front of him, he nodded. “Th-thank you.”
“If they don’t fit, we’ll get you something that’s the right size in the morning. Jonathan had to guess at what size to get you. And they’re red. I hope you like red.”
He froze with a sob and grabbed for the wall as his legs almost gave out, and a second later, he was in her arms again. She lifted him up so gently, even as he started crying again.
“Shh, oh, you sweet little boy. What’s wrong?”
But he couldn’t answer, and he just shook his head and curled up against her. If she was tricking him…this was maybe worse than any other punishment he could possibly have, because somehow her embrace made him feel better and safe… And that feeling just…
“Okay. You’re okay. Can I carry you to the bathroom, sweetie?”
Why was she being so…
nice? It just
had to be a trick. He cried harder but nodded in response, and he felt her start walking slowly down the hallway. A moment later, she stopped.
“I’m going to set you down now, sweetie, and you can get changed and use the bathroom. And if you want, I’ll wait right here to help you back to the bedroom when you’re finished. Is that okay?”
He nodded again and sniffled, trying to hold himself together as she shifted him in her arms and then carefully set him down. His legs didn’t hold his weight very well, and he wobbled as he tried to stand, but she was right there, keeping a gentle hold of him until he steadied himself out.
Then, he looked up at her, and when she smiled at him with a small nod, he didn’t immediately look away. “Thank you,” he said, and more tears slipped down his cheeks.
“Oh, you’re welcome, sweet boy,” Martha murmured. She blinked a few times. “I’ll be…right here. Take your time, okay?”
With another nod, he turned and stepped into the bathroom, and Martha shut the door behind him. His heart skipped a beat as he waited for the telltale sound of the lock clicking…but it didn’t come. Swallowing, he walked farther into the room. It was small, with just a toilet, sink, and bathtub, but it felt bright and warm. Quickly, he relieved himself and then washed his hands in the sink as his eyes lingered on the neatly folded red and black striped pajamas sitting on the counter.
Red was his favorite color. He didn’t know how Jonathan and Martha could have possibly known that.
But he’d also never had a pair of pajamas of his own. He’d always just slept in whatever clothes Ma and Pa had given him to wear, until they got too dirty; then he’d have to stay in his room until Ma had washed them so he could wear them again.
The clothes he had on right now were his special clothes that Ma and Pa gave him to wear only on the few occasions when he’d gotten to go outside of the house with them. He wasn’t allowed to wear the clothes any other time because they had to “look nice” for when he went out. But Ma and Pa had complained that he’d grown too much and had needed new clothes, which was why he’d gotten to go with them to Wichita and why they’d bought him a new shirt and new shoes.
He reached out tentatively and picked up the pajama pants, which were on the top of the pile. His eyes widened as he felt the soft material, and he ran his hand over it. Even the nicest clothes he could ever remember wearing hadn’t been so soft.
More tears fell, although he wasn’t sure why he was crying now. He hastily swiped at his cheeks and then hurried to get changed into the pajamas and the clean underwear Martha had left for him. Just as he finished, there was a soft knock at the door.
“Are you okay in there, Clark?” Martha’s voice was raised just enough for him to hear her clearly.
“Y-yes,” he answered, and he quickly folded up his old clothes so he could put them back on in the morning and tucked them under one arm before reaching out to the door. He paused with his hand a few inches from the door handle. Was he allowed…? “M-may I—may I—may I—”
“Get ahold of yerself, boy! That stutterin’! Ya broken or somethin’?” He dropped his hand and backed away from the door, his chest feeling tight. He almost stumbled, but he managed to catch himself.
“Clark, do you need some help, sweetie?”
Screwing his eyes shut and fighting against something inside telling him he was going to get in more trouble still, Clark nodded. “Y-yes. Yes, I-I do.”
“Okay, sweetie, I’m gonna come in now. Okay?”
“’Kay.”
The door opened quietly, letting a rush of cooler air in, but a moment later, he felt Martha’s warmth as she gently lifted him into her arms.
“Come on, sweet boy. Looks like those PJs fit you pretty well. Do you like them?”
He bit his lip and nodded.
“Oh, very good! Jonathan will be happy to hear that,” Martha said as she walked them back down the hallway to the bedroom. “He bought you some more clothes too, so you’ll have something to wear tomorrow while I wash these other ones for you. Is that okay, sweetie?”
He didn’t know what to say, so he just nodded again as Martha’s arms tightened around him a little more. He closed his eyes lightly and leaned his head against her, wondering how it was possible that she could be so…nice.
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