Are We Alone?

History Repeats

I am so proud of this-

Thomas' feet had worn this same driveway  thirty-thousand times. He was visiting his parents for easter. Of course, that meant he would have to dial down his earthly powers so his eyes didn't show the bright green they wanted to be.

To put it simply, he was angry.

He was pissed. Well, he had always been mad at his parents and their unwanted beliefs. He had hated when they would put so much pressure on him to be what they wanted.

And though he would never voice this, but he wished when Virgil had snuck away that night, he had taken him with him.

They could have been different together.

And maybe Thomas was still kind of mad at Virgil too.

He had the right to be, right? If you really looked at it, no mattef how many stuffed bears Virgil gave him, or the made up time they fixed together, Virgil had abandoned him. Had left him for better off dead.

Thomas looked surprised as he could feel the scorn tossed on his face and his eyes burning with anger.

He took a deep breath.

He needed to calm down. He need to breathe and let go.

Then he was face to face with the door. He looked at it. It's big red numbers shouting at him. Yelling at him. He knocked softly, ignoring the fear that raced through him.

A short stout woman opened the door. Her hair was in dark brown curls, perfect in everyway. Unnatural, in a sense. "Why, hello, Thomas! You're right on time, I'm making pie at the moment. Would you care for a slice?"

She pulled him in, her thick fingers looped around his thin wrist. Thomas looked at the house as he was pulled to the kitchen. And he noticed the biggest difference. The erasement of another son.

A tall man in a collard shirt and black dress pants smiled warmly at Thomas.

"Hello, Son." His voice was deep and smooth.

Thomas hated it.

"Son? Thomas?" The woman called, her sing songy voice called to him. "Earth to Thomas!" She giggled as she and his father sat at the table.

Thomas sighed and rubbed his forehead. He need to calm down.

He sat at the table quietly and looked at his parents. His imperfectly perfect parents. They are nothing like Patton. Yet they resemble him so much. He laughed quietly at the thought.

"Mom, Dad, there's something I need to tell you..." Thomas began, his voice broke slightly at the end, drifting away. "I.. I found Virgil."

There was a hard slam against table, at his father glared at his enclosed fist and his mother scoffed loudly.

Thomas hated it.

He drew in a breath, ready to speak when his mother interrupted him. "How did you find that freak?"

He hated this.

"He is not a freak!" He shouted, his voice crakimg with the barely constrained strength and the fear riding up his throat. His eyes were a sparkling green. "He cares for me! Virgil Aelfrun is like me! He is my brother and your son!"

He hated them.

His parents stared at him. A newfound horror. Thomas laughed and laughed and laughed. An empty sound echoing in a lying, deceiving house.

"Thomas Sanders!" His mother yelled, eyes wide as she saw vines break in through her kitchen floor. Her perfect kitchen floors.

"That is not my name!" Thomas yelled. "I am Thomas Aelfrun! The Sanders name is dead!"

His hands shook as he slowly realized what was happening. He looked at his frightened parents and how their house looked so far from perfect.

His feet pounded against the floors and his hands pulled open a lying door from a lying house.

His eyes closed tight as he found himself in the middle of a street. So so far from a lying home.

"Well, this doesn't remind of a certain scene from oh so long ago," a voice purred.

Thomas peeled open his eyes, as a yellow gloved hand curled around his chin.

Deceit.