Terror trio: back in action

Constellations of Scars

The silence of Incarnate Lord after lights-out was a heavy, woolen blanket, meant to suffocate any mischief. It was a silence meticulously enforced, a tool in the institution’s old and weathered kit for keeping wayward boys on the straight and narrow. For Jake and Devon, the silence was not a deterrent; it was a canvas. Tonight, the canvas was filled with the soft rustle of textbook pages and the whispered exchange of algebraic formulas. A major theology test loomed, and while Devon found a strange peace in the structured arguments of Saint Thomas Aquinas, Jake’s mind wrestled with the concepts, tying them into knots of anxiety.

“So, if God is omnipotent, and all-good, why does he allow suffering?” Jake whispered, his finger tracing a line of text until the words blurred

“Because of free will, remember? Father Murray said it’s the price of our freedom to choose.” Devon looked up from his notebook, his dark curls falling over his brow

“Seems like a high price. What if someone else’s choice takes away your freedom? Or… takes everything?” Jake murmured, his brown eyes distant

“Then we have to believe that God can bring good out of even the worst things. That there’s a plan.” Devon reached over and placed his hand over Jake’s, stilling its nervous tracing

“Who are you, and what have you done with my boyfriend? You know, Devon Evans? Hackensack’s future detective, who thinks ‘plan’ is just what you call a scheme that hasn’t gone wrong yet.” Jake looked down at their joined hands, a faint smile touching his lips

“Hey, even a future detective needs a little divine guidance.” Devon grinned, squeezing his hand

“Okay, okay. Lights out, mi amor.” Jake yawned, the words slurring with an exhaustion

“Alright, alright. You’re so bossy.” Devon giggled, kicking off his slippers before hopping into the bed

“Goodnight, detective.” Jake murmured, burying his face into the crook of Devon’s neck

“Goodnight, michelangelo.” Devon murmured, lying his head on Jake’s chest, slowly falling into a deep slumber by the sound of Jake’s heartbeat

Jake, lulled by the steady rhythm of Devon’s breathing against his chest, finally let the fatigue pull him under. But the peace was short-lived. A trapdoor opened beneath his consciousness, and he fell into the nightmare.

~flashback~

The rain wasn’t rain anymore; it was a solid wall of water, hammering the roof of the old sedan like a thousand furious fists. Eight-year-old Jake, small and swimmerous in the passenger seat, clutched the straps of his seatbelt, his knuckles white.

“Jake, it’s going to be okay, I promise. Mommy's got you. I'm going to take care of you now, okay? It’s just us, baby.. it’s just us.” his mother, Mary, whispered, but her voice was a tight wire of terror

“Mommy? Why is Daddy mad?” Jake’s voice was small, a tiny boat adrift in the roaring storm

“He’s just… he’s not feeling like himself, sweetheart. But we’re going to Grandma’s for a little while. We’ll have pancakes smothered in syrup and whipped cream, just how you like them.” Mary forced a smile, a fragile, broken thing

“Mommy, I’m scared.” Jake whimpered, tears welling in his wide brown eyes

“Baby, listen to me. Your father needs help — professional help. From here on out, it’s just you and me. We only have each other, you understand? You and me? We’re a team.” Mary’s words were meant to soothe, but they were frayed, eaten by the storm’s fury