Promise from the heart

Chapter 2

Charlie ran his wrist under cold water and carefully put some ointment on it. When it was covered with a compress and a bandage, he pulled on a long-sleeve and walked into the kiddies room. After having had one too many "hands-on" nannies, he knew all to well how to apply bandages and care for burns, cuts and bruises. It was almost routine at this point.

Before they moved in, his father had had a room made just for the three little ones. The walls were yellow and on the border there were little bunnies from Beatrix Potter's stories. The floor was wooden and in the middle of the room, there was a large beige furry mat. There were two cribs in dark wood, and a toddler bed, that had once been Charlie's. The eldest of the three, Julian, who was four years old, was sitting on the floor with his teddy, looking awfully scared. Charlie crouched down beside him and stroked his cheek gently.

"It's okay. Everything is okay." He told him gently and opened his arms.

When Julian settled in Charlir's lap, he tried to hold his hand but accidently grabbed his wrist instead, the one that was bandaged, and Charlie winced.

Julian looked at him with wide teary eyes. "Awe you huwt?" he asked in a small voice. "Momma huwt you?"

Julian's speech was a little bit delayed, and he had a hard time with the r-s, but he understood everything you said, and saw far more than the boy wanted him to. Charlie blinked away his tears. So she had been hurting the little ones, he thought.

"I'm fine, Julian," Charlie said ever so gently as he ruffled the little boy's wonderful natural curls.

They looked into each other's eyes and Charlie got lost in Julian's large chocolate-brown eyes. How could such a sweet child come from a woman like that? He often wondered.

They were both startled when the other two started wailing loudly. Brooklyn, the one year old, couldn't yet walk, and he was sitting in his crib with wet rosy cheeks and his small chubby hands clung to the railing. Brooklyn's skin was very light, so the flush on his cheeks stood out even more. He had startling bright blue eyes, and a few tufts of blonde hair. He was a real sweetheart and wanted to be cuddled all the time. Not that Charlie minded. It was a big brother's duty to care for his younger brothers, and cuddling Brooklyn meant getting the cuddles he himself never got. Slowly but surely, even Charlie was starting to get used to affection.

He walked over to the crib and cooed at Brooklyn. "Were you lonely, Brooke? Want me to pick you up?"

Brooklyn couldn't speak yet, but as soon as Charlie neared the crib, he made grabby hands, asking to be picked up.

As soon as the boy had picked him up and held him on his hip, Brooklyn gurgled and started talking non-stop, in his own little way, and he smiled happily. One of his little hands clutched Charlie's shirt behind his shoulder, with no intention of letting go.

Two down, one to go, the boy thought. In the third crib Ezra stood and he was two and a half. He could stand and walk so he was on his tippy-toes trying to get out of the crib on his own. Dangerous little thing, the boy thought. With one arm he managed to grab the toddler around his waist and sat him down by Julian, without dropping Brooklyn in the process.

Ezra was the fearless one of the three. He had very light green eyes, slightly darker skin than Julian, and his brown hair was always messy. It was quite clear that the three children all had different fathers, but the boy couldn't care less. He had a different father too, and a different mother, but they were brothers all the same. And he swore to protect them, whatever it took.

Charlie learned not to go near his stepmother and her friends when his dad was out of town, so he tried his best to just care for the little ones and focus on his schoolwork. He did however have to fix them meals, since their mother couldn't bother with that, and during those times, he had to cross paths with his stepmother and her friends. Thankfully, on most days, she either stayed somewhere else or was knocked out in her room. But when they were there, he always made sure that the little ones stayed in their room while he cooked their food, because if things got bad, he didn't want them to see.

Once, her friends had bruised his ribs, because he accidently dropped some water on the floor when he was carrying a pot over to the stove. Another time, he got a black eye for chopping the veggies too loudly. He had several bruises from the men grabbing him when they were yelling at him as well. And marks on his cheeks and chest from Lucy's nails, from when she'd slapped him. She loved slapping him around, making sure to bend her fingers as she pulled her hand away so she scratched him well every time. The boy was sure that was the only reason she wore those claw like nails of hers.

The boy wouldn't fight his stepmother, and he couldn't fight her friends. The men were bigger and stronger than him even without the drugs, but with the drugs in their system, their strength was on a whole new level.

On the rare occasions when his dad was home, before he'd disappeared completely, he was usually so tired he only said a quick hello and then went right to sleep. Charlie didn't like to think about it, but he could barely recall what his father looked like, or what colour his eyes were. When he woke up in the morning, his father would be long gone. He never even noticed how toxic the environment had become, or how hurt his son was. Or if he did, he pretended he didn't. He was working all hours and Charlie couldn't help but wonder he really was working, or if he just didn't want to spend time with them anymore.

Had he brought home his girlfriend so she could take over for him as a parent? The thought made the boy's heart clench. At least his mother hadn't left him willingly.

After months of being the one who took care of the children the most, despite being a eleven-year-old boy, Charlie decided he had to do something. He had been on the receiving end of one too many hits, and soon he wouldn't be able to lie to the school nurse anymore about where he got all his cuts and bruises. He wasn't too sure she'd even believed his lies thus far. It was possible she knew he was lying and simply didn't care enough to do anything about it. After all, humans are selfish creatures. Life had taught the boy that.

If he didn't do something soon, his little brothers might be the ones being hit next, and Charlie would never allow that. Or he'd end up getting hit hard enough he could no longer take care of them. He shuddered at the thought. Not for his own sake, but because he knew that they'd all be dead without him.

His father, if you could call him that, wouldn't be much help, since he had somewhat already checked out of his responsibilities, so the boy knew what he had to do. 

Like most things in his life, he would have to do this all on his own.