Burnington Gaol

T W E N T Y - F O U R | Billy

Billy rubbed his eyes, quivered under the morning sun.

He approached the tower, making his way down the path between the inner and outer wall. His mind was foggy, tingling with pain and regret, and he felt his body swelling with new bruises and scratches from events he couldn't remember. He looked up at the tower, pushed open the door.

The living room was silent – no crackle or pop of Dad's wireless radio, no voices murmuring to one another, no stranger straddling his father on their couch. He threw his crumpled jacket onto the kitchen table and staggered upstairs to change, only to come face to face with his father. They both paused, Billy frozen on top of the winding staircase and Ed frozen at his bedside. Billy lowered his eyes.

"Don't get your panties in a bunch," he said. "I'm just here to grab my uniform."

He pulled open his bedside drawer, buried his hands in the mess it contained. Ed shifted his weight uncomfortably.

"You look dreadful," he murmured. "At least have some breakfast before you go."

Billy clenched his jaw, grinded his teeth. His father, always pretending to care. He grabbed his school shirt and pants and headed for the stairs.

"William, wait."

Billy paused, considering, before turning to face his father again. They locked eyes, the silence between them louder than anything they'd ever heard.

"I'm sorry," Ed began, voice quiet. "I love your mother, and I know it hasn't been long since she left."

"Left?" He asked. "Is that really what you're calling it?"

Ed lowered his eyes, cleared his throat.

"The decision to move her into the asylum was not an easy one to make."

"But you made it," he said. "You took her away from us. And already you've forgotten her."

"I haven't forgotten, Billy. And I am sorry this has happened to you, to your sister. I am sorry your mother is sick, I am sorry she hurt you, and I'm sorry that an asylum is the best place for her, but it is. It just is."

"I know what happens in those places," Billy snapped. "What they do to people like Mum, all in the name of science and trying to find a cure. It's pointless. She's suffering, and you stand here trying to justify what you've done."

"I am not justifying anything. I'm telling you how things are. Whether you like it or not has nothing to do with me."

"Nothing to do with you?" Billy scoffed. "You did this to us! You make us leave Port Aveen, force us into this prison, take away our mother – "

"I didn't take her away!"

"Yes you did!"

"No, I didn't!"

Billy froze, his face red, heart pounding. Ed sighed, lowered himself onto the bed.

"I didn't send your mother away," he whispered. "She wanted to leave."

Billy furrowed his eyebrows, shifted his weight.

"What did you say?"

"The night your mother attacked Addie... The night she got that scar... Liz had a moment of clarity. She realised that the sickness was taking over and she wasn't strong enough to stop it. So, she arranged for some men to come to the house and take her to the asylum before she could bring further harm to you or your sister."

Billy stepped back, shook his head.

"No," he said. "She wouldn't... she wouldn't leave us."

"She loved you," Ed said. "Loves you so damn much that she left you, to protect you. And although I suspected Adeline may have been able to understand why your mother decided to leave, I knew that you would see it as nothing more than a betrayal, an abandonment. So I thought up a lie. I told you it was me who sent her away and in doing so, gave you someone to blame. A target for your rage, so you wouldn't turn it onto her, or yourself. I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought I could protect you all, but it's only ripped us apart."

Silence fell as Ed slumped forward, eyes bloodshot and focused on his shoes. Billy, gutted like a fish, stood paralysed at the top of the staircase. He felt his eyes swell and blur, quickly sunk his teeth into his bottom lip and blinked away his furious tears. He wanted to scream, to punch something, to break something...

"I'm so sorry, Billy."

Billy locked eyes with his father, clenched his fists. A dark, dangerous rage began tangling at his centre, tightening his chest, squeezing his throat...

Then Billy saw his father's eyes, and he saw what lived inside them – a deep blue sadness, dense and infinite, expanding and crippling. And when he saw that, his anger began to dissolve, like a heart in acid, into a similar misery. He was not angry; he was simply in pain.

"My son," Ed whispered, now on his feet. He reached towards Billy, palm flat, elbow straight. "Could you ever forgive me?"

His fingertips neared, brushed Billy's shoulder and he recoiled sharply, jerking backwards, eyes glassy. The lump in his throat combined with the fogginess of his mind rendered Billy speechless and powerless, so he lifted his chin and he walked out of the tower without another word.

© A.G. Travers 2018