28. BEFORE
"Ouch!"
"Sorry darling, it's only going to hurt for a little while."
Tina dabbed gently at her son's rather nasty gash, on the left side of his cheek, courtesy of one of the other older church boys. Frowning as she tended to the last specks of blood that spattered her six year old's face, Tina only hoped that Father Herod would finally see to it that the bullying was stopped.
"Mummy," Adam mumbled, later on, once she had tucked him into his bed. His little hand caught onto Tina's finger and tugged at it. She looked down at her son and felt an overwhelming surge of love and despair – she wasn't quite sure why, perhaps it was because her little boy looked so little and lost, but she found herself wrapping her arms around him. Adam, slightly confused at this sporadic display of affection, responded a second later by tucking his head onto his mother's shoulder.
"Mummy," he repeated as she rocked him in her arms, "I don't want to go back."
"Go where, sweetheart?" Tina looked down at her son and pushed back a few tendrils of blonde hair that had been stuck to his forehead. Adam's chin trembled.
"Church," he whispered. "I don't like it."
"Now you don't mean that," Tina said, gentle but firm. "You like Sunday school, don't you? Mr. Edmunds says you're a very talented boy, you learn all your bible verses off by heart and you're very good at choir practise and—"
"No, no." Tina felt her heart sink at the fear in the boy's tone, felt his small body tremble against her arms. "They're horrible, mummy. They hurt us. James said we're not supposed to tell because then God will hate us but I don't care anymore. I don't like it. The big boys hurt us."
"I'll speak to Father about them, Adam," Tina assured him quickly. "And you must tell James to do the same so that Father will see."
The boy, so prone to chatter and honesty with his mother, was now silent. She gently caressed the fine blonde hairs on her son's head, an absent-minded habit of hers, while she pondered through his plea in her head. They hurt us.
"I will tell him," Tina repeated so as to prompt some verbal response. Adam said nothing but gave an imperceptible, jerky nod.
Deciding that he was now sufficiently subdued, Tina lifted herself off his bed and made her way out of his room. Her fingers had barely brushed against the bedroom door when she looked back at Adam, now half-asleep, and felt another unexplainable pang inside of her gut. Motherly instinct at work again? She barely gave it much thought anymore, having gotten used to constant worrying, as mothers so often do, ever since Adam was born. However tonight it felt more profound, somehow. It couldn't be ignored. She parted her lips. I love you, sweetheart. She was about to say it, and she thought she saw Adam sleepily raise his chin expectantly at her. But then she heard a soft, familiar snore being emitted and her son's head lolled to the side.
Tina smiled. She felt that she should still say it. I love you. She found that there were a lot of times, when Adam was awake, where she lacked the courage to do so.
Oh what does it matter. She shook her head at herself for all of this nonsensical thinking. I'll just tell him tomorrow morning.
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Although she reprimanded herself for letting such a notion occur to her in the first place, Tina couldn't help but think Father Herod's house looked like the perfect setting for a 90s horror movie. Wedged between two other squat, grey buildings, it stood out to her as the type of place one might expect an axe murder to live in.
