Lies

One Year Before

Sheets and sheets of paper with scrawled writing were spread across his desk. A tower of textbooks stood unstably next to it. Jason watched as his chest grew up and fell back down slowly. Up. Down. Up. Down. He lay on his bed at peace, finally having some time to himself. Preparation for his upcoming exams took out the majority of his free time, and the moments where he could absolutely relax were hard to find. Tommas would still be hard studying, breathing in all information he could, desperate for that scholarship he always wanted. Tommas was always the dedicated type, the good cop, teacher's pet, loveable. Jason pondered as whether to read a comic, play FIFA, or watch the film that everyone was excited to see half a year ago. 

He then heard squabbling from the room below his own. It was quiet and hardly deducible. The walls and floors and ceilings were thick stone and whatever else expensive houses were made up of, so that Jason couldn't tell what was going on. Not that it was any of his concern, so he thought.  A thundering of footsteps ran up the stairs and to his door. They were angry, stubborn stomps. Jason sighed as a young teenage girl peeped inside. "Help me with my homework?" she sheepishly suggested.

Jason groaned and rolled so that his face was engulfed by a large white pillow.

"Get. Scott." Jason said sternly, his voice muffled by a bundle of feathers wrapped in cotton. Unfortunately there was a flaw in his actions; talking and breathing into a pillow proved to be difficult. He shifted a little to take in some air but noticed Rose's face drop with dissapointment. Empathy outgrew his annoyance and he quickly softened his tone of voice. "Please."

"I did...And he did..." she slowly began. "And then he got

bored...And walked away." Rose yelled childishly down the hallway, "you're a poo, Scott! A big, fat, smelly cow faeces!"

"Now now, Rose, that's being offensive to cows!" Jason said loudly with a smirk.

"Love you too(!)" was the reply followed by a slam of the door. With a glum face, Jason dragged himself off the bed and his mess of papers fell to the floor with a sweep of his hand.

"Come on in then, I'll help."

Only five minutes in, yet Jason already felt Scott's pain. It was simple algebra, and Rose couldn't understand at all. If it had been anyone else but Rose, Jason was sure that he would have ripped the homework sheet into confetti. A hundred flaps of tiny white and black bitter-sweet hell.

"Why is it always an x? Why can't it be w? Or pineapple?" she complained, spinning around on her hot pink office chair. Despite driving hard into puberty at thirteen, she acted like a completely loopy problem-child. Her personality was totally erratic; one moment she'd be calm and skeptic of things and the world, and next she'd be running about on the rooftop. Luckily, her sheer innocent face of an angel made up for anything.

"Do you have a boyfriend, Rose?" Jason inquired, the possibility nonchalantly slipping into his mind.

"Noooooo...Woahhh dizzy!!" Rose continued to spin around on the chair.

"Has anyone ever liked you?" Jason asked.

"Nooooope!!! Weeee!!!" She was like a child on toy for the first time, except the chair was not a toy, and it was plenty more than the first time.

"Do you like anyone?" He persisted.

Rose abruptly stopped spinning and faced him.

"Yes," she said and she leant close to Jason's face, looking him straight in the eye. She said yes?! Rose gazed at him blankly as if she were waiting for a reaction, although Jason couldn't think of a single thing to say. He skimmed throughout all the possibilities there were as to who that person may be. She liked someone? Tommas was surprisingly the first suspect in his head. Then quickly replaced with another suspect. The chances it was Tommas was extremely unlikely and would definitely not work out if she did, knowing Tommas like he did. So it seemed, Tommas was not loved by everyone. Jason evaluated the likelyhood of each boy in her school, in the neighbourhood, and his school that she may know. He knew them all, their strengths, their weaknesses, the one word that would put them at the very edge; for Rose's protection of course. No. No. Maybe? Nah. No. No. Nope. No. In fact, Jason wasn't even sure she was telling the truth. They continued to stare at eachother, faces a few inches apart for what seemed a longer time than socially acceptable if they had not been siblings. The only boy she got along with was...

Just as Jason opened his mouth to speak, she placed a finger to his lips, like a shush. "But that's a secret." She whispered. The girl giggled and returned to spinning on the chair as if nothing happened.

"Look, we can pretend that they're pineapples for now, but make sure you put x in the answe-" A loud bash on the the house's front door interrupted his sentence. Then another one. Then another one. Someone was at the door. "Stay here, Rose!" Jason sternly ordered.

Rose nodded solemnly.

"Yes, sir!" she whispered, saluting with her right hand. Jason tread slowly down the stairs and to the front door.

"Dad? Why don't you take out your keys?" he asked. The man banged furiously at the door.

"Who are you?! Let me into my house! What've you done to my kids?!" He drawled and hit the door again.

"It's me, Dad! Jason!"

"What've you done to Jason? What have you done to my boy?!" The fury was unmistakable, Jason heard him strike the door with his foot. It might break. "Let me see him! If you touch a single hair!" The handle turned a few times, failing to open, and the strikes returned. "I'll kill you! I'll rip you to shreds!"

Jason heard a cracking in the wood. The strike of each kick and thrash boomed throughout the house. Where was Scott? They were deafening, scary, insane. It might break any moment. Why wasn't Scott helping? Unsure of what else he could do, Jason slowly reached out, and unlocked the door.

He was thrown backwards and grappled to the ground by the neck. Their father was a rich and successful man; calm, clever, handsome, witty - until he drank. It's breath stank of liquors and whisky, it's teeth a rotten yellow. It's nails dug into Jason's flesh, and it's weight squeezed Jason's  airway shut. It's dark eyes bulged from it's sockets, and thick red veins of blood wrapped into them, like strangling roots, like the way it was strangling Jason. Jason gasped, and what little air he could take made a squeaky whistling noise. He used all his force to attempt to throw his father off but he was too weak, and the madman was too strong.

"There are more! There are of you aren't there? Where are the others?!" The man screamed, ramming Jason's head into the ground again and again. The first time was extremely painful, like his head was being crushed into two pieces, and then little tiny pieces. Then it numbed a little. That felt better. It was getting damp back there. Jason wondered if his skull had cracked. Who was this man again? Why does he keep shouting at him? What did Jason do wrong? It's getting very difficult to breathe, in fact, everything's slowly becoming dark. Not black, it was weird, unknown, incorporeal darkness. Please, Jason thought. Let go. The shouting man moved upstairs. Jason grabbed desperately at the air for oxygen for his flat lungs, curling into a ball, and then coughing at the floor. His head was spinning, blurred and twisted.

Jason couldn't see anything. It was too fuzzy...it was too red. Someone must have mistook his head for a flowerpot because it felt like there was a big hole in it. Maybe he should check. Jason lifted his fingertips to his skull. Ouch, that was a bad idea. Someone's sprinkled salt all over the hole now. It prickled and stung all over making Jason crimpled and whimper. Rose was being really quite loud upstairs. She must have been watching a scary movie again, her screams and cries were giving Jason an extremely painful headache. What a racket.

"Get away from her!"

Scott? That was Scott! Oh boy was he glad to hear Scott, he couldn't remember why, but Jason was very happy. That's it, they must be rehearsing for that play in school Rose wanted to be in! Which one was it? He keeps forgetting...It's hard to remember with this hole in his head. what if that particular memory was dug out? What if it's a migraine? Jason would have to call up his doctor for a check-up. His arm waved about in turbulence. There's so much red everywhere, how can a phone be found if everything's red?! He'll just drive to the hospital in the morning, yes, that's it. Scott will drive for him, with his fancy new drivier's license, Rose will come along for support, and they can apologise for all that noise. He'll sleep now, once he remembers that play...that play...yes...that's it...it was...Macbeth.

Macbeth is a clue. It won't help you find the murderer, but don't expect bunnies and rainbows. Google it. Or wait to read on. I don't mind :p x

P.S. There'll be less scary in the next few chapters. More fluffy memories and sad people x