The Fall of the Aftons

063: Michael Afton

As soon as William--and apparently Henry--came home from work, everybody officially celebrated Evan's second birthday. Even though the official celebration hadn't started until just now, Michael and Terrance had been unofficially celebrating with little Evan all day. When the little boy woke from another nightmare at three in the morning, Michael told him, "Happy birthday, little brother," before he grabbed the flashlight to make shadow puppets. He and Terrance also made Evan a special breakfast of brown sugar oatmeal with chocolate chips and sprinkles. The birthday boy loved the tiny, colorful, near-flavorless decorative sticks. They'd also spent the majority of the day playing tag and drawing since those were Evan's favorite things to do.

At that moment, everybody sat in the living room as Terrance went back and forth between participating and cooking dinner. Michael sat on the rug with the little birthday boy as William sat on the couch. Henry was curled up next to William, his head resting on William's lap as he slept peacefully.

Michael pointed to William. "That's your daddy," he said to his little brother. "Can you say 'Daddy?'"

"D-Da... Da-ee!" Evan exclaimed happily, making William laugh.

Michael pointed to Henry. "That one is Henry. Can you say 'Henry?'"

"Heh-wee!" he said excitedly, a wide grin on his face. He pointed at Michael and said, "Ee-wins!"

Michael laughed quietly. He could hear Terrance chuckle in the kitchen. "No, no, no," he said. "I'm Michael. He is Terrance," he told his brother, pointing to Terrance in the kitchen.

"Ee-wins!" he insisted.

Terrance burst out into laughter.

Mike rolled his eyes, but he couldn't help but chuckle. He pointed to himself and said, "Michael." Then he pointed to the kitchen. "Terrance."

Yet the small boy still pointed to Michael and called him, "Ee-wins!"

~ ~ ~

Michael studied his newly unbandaged shoulder, taking in each detail of the many scars left by the failed kidnapper from so long ago. Some of the scars were thicker than others, while some were noticeably thinner. Some were short, some were long. One was on the very top of his shoulder, while the rest were either on the side or on the back of it. They were all jagged and zigzag, and a few of the thicker ones still hurt when he lifted his arm too high or he pressed on them too hard.

"Are you gunna come downstairs for supper?" William asked as he came up the stairs and stood in the doorway of Michael's bedroom.

Michael ignored his father's question. "How long will the scars last?" he asked as he turned to William, not quite making eye contact. "They won't last forever, will they?"

"I don't know, bud," William admitted, frowning. "Some scars last, some scars fade. It's hard to tell which ones will stay and which ones will go."

"I don't want these to stay," he mumbled as he pulled his sleeve back over his shoulder. "I want them to go away. I don't want to see them every time I get dressed. That's pure torment."

"I know. That was a scary night."

He nodded his head in quiet agreement, then looked at the floor. "It doesn't help that the man is still out there," he muttered as he nervously crossed his arms over his chest.

William sighed, tired of having this conversation every day. "Michael, we've been over this numerous times. The man was cap--"

"You did not see him! I did! You don't know what he looks like!" Michael snapped, his fingers digging into his forearms out of anger. His eyes burned with tears as he took a deep breath to keep his emotions from bubbling over. "You were not there. You didn't have a proper chance to see his face. But I did. The man they have in custody is not the right one!" He looked to William with desperate, pleading eyes. "Why don't any of you believe me?"

"Michael..."

He turned away and wiped his eyes. He ignored William's repeated question about dinner as he gathered his flicked his hand away to shoo off his father and grab a pair of pajamas from his dresser.