Just me and him- autistic Tommy and big brother Tubbo, SBI adoption story

Chapter 50: things for the attic collection

Tubbo's POV:

Phil didn't come that Sunday. He wanted to, Grian said so. And Kristin wanted to come too, I hadn't seen her since it all happened. But they were too busy. I didn't know what they were busy doing exactly, just that they were busy. Maybe next weekend, I told myself. Wilbur, Techno and Kristin would be busy at school and work in the week. But hopefully Phil and Tommy would still come.

It was fine that they didn't come though because I was really tired and not having a great day with my brain; I preferred that they didn't see me like that. I wanted to get in the wheelchair again and get out of the room, but I could barely move my legs and I felt dizzy every time I tilted my head slightly. The doctors said things would go up and down, and not to worry too much. All I knew was that I couldn't talk like I wanted to, and that was frustrating. The only good thing was my arm wasn't hurting as much as normal, although my stomach made up for it. And I just felt ill, like not good.

Grian let me find some songs on his iTunes selection (which there was quite a lot of) and let me play them on repeat. The tv was just playing rubbish and my eyes hurt too much to watch it, so music it was. I was hoping Phil would get me a new phone soon, just something I could play music on and maybe some games like I did that night we stayed with them. Just so that I wouldn't have to rely on everyone else as much for everything. And so I could get Spotify back and start messing around it with it again, finding out which songs I liked and following artists.

And then I spent most of my day, either asleep or pretending to be asleep. My vitals were checked every few hours like usual, but I barely let it wake me. I did everything I could not to think of everything that had happened but her face kept haunting me; it was like I couldn't get away from it.

And slowly, my brain pieced back the moment Owen stabbed me. The sharp pain, the blood. Seeing Tommy watch me die slowly. I could have died. I could have died just like he did. Like Owen did. Dead in the corner of our bedroom. It was a room we slept in, it was never our bedroom. I still wanted the things from it though, the things we hid under the bed. And I wanted the photos from Owen's house. I got the important stuff. Mr Steven's letter and the poster and so on. But there was a lot of pictures hanging up in that house that Owen hadn't smashed: I wanted them. They were more happy memories. They were more clues to who my mum was. Who Tommy's mum was.

And I wanted to find them both one day. Just to see if there was a reason they left. Just to see if they'd want to get to know their kids. Just to see them.

They day was long, and too thought-provoking. I just wanted to sleep. Eventually, I allowed myself to fall back into the warm hands of pain relief with a blanket-like side effect of drowsiness. I needed it.

Phil's POV:

We had been contacted by Grian to say that both houses were now ready to be processed. This meant nearly everything from both houses was being put in a large room and I was being asked to go get everything we wanted. The boys wanted. But first, they wanted me to go to both houses with a police officer (even though they weren't quite crime scenes anymore) to pick up any things that had been left behind.

Grian suggested that it was not a good day for Tubbo to be leaving the hospital, and that it was far too early for him to be this close to something so traumatic for him. And it would be a similar thing for Tommy. So I got myself ready for the day and left early, with an empty car and an open mind. I'd need the open mind more than I thought.

Kristin had said she was going to go shopping with Wilbur, to give him some time out the house. He struggled with the fostering process more than Techno, so whilst it was important to give all our kids their own time with us, it was especially important for Wilbur. And he'd been struggling with Niki recently, so it was only fair. Speaking of Niki, I'd had an email from her social worker explaining that Niki was fine but she had decided to cut contact with us for personal reasons. It broke my heart hearing that. But I knew it would smash Wilbur's. So I didn't tell him. I told him I still hadn't had an answer. I just knew, and I trust my dad instinct that it was better for him not to know. Maybe in a month or so, when things had calmed down with Tubbo and Tommy, when things were a bit more normal, I'd talk to him about it. But for now, I just kept my mouth shut.