Regrets

Chapter 14 - People Help The People

Song: People Help The People - Birdy

There could be worse things than this, Thomas thought to himself as the loud slamming of a door awoke him at three-something in the early morning. Slowly, he sat up on the old, creaky mattress, knowing he wouldn't be able to fall asleep again for a while.

If only the immediate pain that followed waking up wasn't there.

He slowly got up and trotted towards the kitchen, thinking it would at least be marginally better than continuing to wallow in his pain and misery in the darkness of his room.

"Morning", came his tired greeting as he stepped onto the cool, dirty white tiles of the kitchen floor.

"Oh. You're still here", it sounded like something between surprise and annoyance, and Thomas had no idea which one he would rather have it be if he had to choose.

"I woke you up", Marcus said, and Thomas again wasn't sure how to interpret it, whether it was a question or rather a statement.

"I'll be quieter tomorrow", this time, Thomas finally knew how Marcus had meant it: an apology in disguise. At least that's what he was convinced of.

"It's no problem, I'm used to getting woken up at such hours. You don't have to accommodate me", the boy smiled at the older man, as if it was least of his problems.

"You should go back to sleep, I'll be leaving again in an hour or so. Michael wanted to come by at one point but my mobile phone broke so he didn't call me. If someone's at the door, it's probably him, but you don't have to answer him if you don't wanna"

'And if it's not him?', Thomas wanted to ask that, but why exactly he didn't, he wasn't sure of. It was almost like the question was too obvious, too unnecessary. As if, should he ask it, Marcus would only reply with a 'really?'-look and otherwise not address it any further. Of course that wouldn't be the case, Thomas had all reason to ask. And yet, he didn't dare to after all. He stayed quiet.

It would have been such a simple question, but Thomas didn't ask it. Didn't dare to, or didn't want to. Didn't want it to have an answer, didn't want it to be necessary to ask. There would be no one else at the door, only Michael. No one else.

Thomas nodded, somewhat to himself, but also in response to Marcus' statement, to make sure Marcus knew that he had understood. And then the silence continued. Neither of them made an effort to break it, and it seemed that neither of them wanted it to be broken either. They were rather comfortable in the silence of the clock ticking away the seconds and the occasional tapping of Marcus' cigarette against a cup that was collecting the ashes.

Marcus was a heavy smoker, Thomas noticed in that moment. It wasn't something he wasn't used to, he had been passive smoking for a long time now. But what did surprise him was the fact that he didn't seem to mind the man's smoking. Whenever his stepdad smoked, Thomas would usually be disgusted and leave the room, but with Marcus, it seemed to be okay; as if all these years, it hadn't been the sheer act of smoking that Thomas despised, but rather the person doing it, and the fact that he was smoking was only Thomas' scapegoat, only his excuse.

"What?"

The question tore Thomas out of his thoughts rather abruptly.

"Wha-?", came his helpless response as he looked up again to meet Marcus' gaze.

"You'd been staring for quite a while. Thought you might want to say something", Marcus waved his hand in dismiss right after finishing his sentence, as if it was a stupid assessment, to be disregarded.

"No. Yes. Yes, I mean... I was just, just wondering... if y'know...", Thomas knew he wasn't a stutterer. He knew he was only stalling, trying to buy time with repetitions and pauses to come up with an excuse. Just so he didn't have to tell this man all his secret thoughts.

"You don't have to tell me", Marcus interrupted the short break or rambling. "You just looked like you really wanted to say something"

Thomas could only nod. Of course. Marcus was different than other adults. Thomas didn't have to tell him anything if he didn't want to. He was allowed to stay silent, to keep things to himself. Marcus wouldn't get angry with him.

Marcus turned his head back towards the almost finished nicotine stick. He was leaning against the kitchen counter in a chill way, as if nothing could bother him right now.

"Why do you have to leave again?", Thomas asked, not wanting the conversation to end there.

"Second job"

It was a short reply, one that left no room for questions. Apparently, Marcus didn't want to talk about it in the least.

"How's your body feeling, kid?", he changed the topic. A taboo topic maybe?

"Much better. But there's some cuts that haven't grown a crust yet, they're still wet and bloody", Thomas said earnestly. After all, he had no idea if he should be worried or not, and he'd rather know now than get the wounds infected because of his carelessness.

"Hmm...", Marcus hummed as he threw the not quite finished cigarette butt into the cup of ash. His hands pushed his body off the counter swiftly before he walked over to the cupboard above the sink.

"Do you like candy?", the question seemed so out of place that Thomas had to wonder for a second if he actually heard it.

"Do you or do you not?", Marcus repeated and Thomas nodded quickly. What crazy person didn't like candy?

"How about some chocolate?", Marcus asked and offered a bar of chocolate towards Thomas. It seemed old, but chocolate didn't do more than grow stale anyway.

"What for?", Thomas responded cautiously as he took the chocolate bar slowly from Marcus' hand.

"Distraction. This will hurt, kid", Marcus said calmly as he returned to the kitchen counter with a bottle of cheap vodka as well as a roll of thread, a needle and a bee's wax candle.

"Wait, are you gonna stitch them?!", Thomas exclaimed in shock as he moved back a step out of reflex.

"It'll get infected if you don't get them treated. I won't let you die in my home. You can also go to the hospital, if you want. I can't take you though. Get treated or I'll throw you out", Marcus stated with as much authority as Thomas had ever heard out of the man's mouth. He threaded the needle carefully before he pulled the thread over the candle, coating it in the wax. Then, he held the needle over the ash cup, and poured some of the vodka over it.

"Do you have any experience with this?", Thomas asked with a scared expression as he watched Marcus carefully, as though he himself had any experience with it and was watching his disciple closely for any mistakes.

"Yeah. Though, it'll hurt a bunch less if you go to the hospital", Marcus stated. It was almost as if he was trying to convince the kid to go to the hospital. To leave. To go home.

"No"

"Alright, then come here", Marcus sighed and as soon as Thomas stood before him, he lifted the boy up and sat him on the counter. His dark eyes closely watched Thomas as he got comfortable.

"Where're the open cuts?", Marcus demanded to know, and Thomas willingly pulled up his right sleeve to disclose a gash that was at least three inches long. One of the assaulters probably had a knife with them.

The wound wasn't deep, and so Marcus demanded to first see the wounds that needed his attention more dearly.

In total, there were three, the one on his right arm, one on Thomas' left leg and one on his forehead, the latter ones probably from a harsh fall on something sharp. Although the one on his head could also be from a blunt object though.

"Sit tight", Marcus mumbled before he poured vodka over Thomas' left leg. The kid winced in pain, although he knew that wasn't the worst yet. Seconds later, his fears were affirmed when Marcus pricked his skin with the needle and created a loop that he pulled shut swiftly. He continued the zig zag pattern across the whole cut and finished it off with a simple double knot.

Thomas blinked in surprise at the fast and routine looking work that was almost painless to endure. Marcus on the other hand simply reached out his hand for Thomas to put his right arm into, which the latter did without hesitation.