Our Beautiful Tragedy [#Wattys2015]

Chapter 18: Hickery Dickery Dock

Isabel Newton, 7:21 PM
Mel had kindly lent Isabel some dark blue jeans and a black feather jumper for tomorrow, Isabel laying the clothes out on the spare bed where Mrs Walker said she could sleep tonight. Right now, she wore a woolen onesie that Mel had also agreed she could borrow. It felt strange to be sleeping in a stranger's house and although the family were hardly strangers; they were little more than acquaintances either. The worst part was: Mrs Walker obviously knew about her feelings for Leon and if anything did happen between them; she doubted Kelly would take kindly to it. Especially since Leon had been in a long term relationship with Camille not so long ago. Isabel hadn't said much in the car or since she arrived to the lovely decor of the Walker's family home. Instead, she'd tried to become comfortable in her surroundings but had unfortunately failed. The sad part? Isabel didn't feel comfortable anywhere anymore.
"Are you okay?"
Isabel jumped, spinning to face Leon who lingered by the doorway. He smiled apologetically, hopping from foot to foot.
"Sorry," Leon apologized, "I should have knocked, I didn't mean to scare you."
"You didn't scare me," Isabel assured, the pair both standing metres apart. "Is dinner ready?"
Leon laughed.
"'Another two minutes', Mom said. I just thought I'd check on you and make sure you're alright." He paused for thought, "Is it weird? Sleeping here in the same house as me?"
Gulping, Isabel shook her head.
"No." She lied, "Is it weird for you?"
He walked in the room then, his eyes checking with Isabel to see if that was okay. She nodded, smiling shortly.
"Nope," He grinned, "I like you, Isabel. I like having you around."
Warmth spread through her cheeks and she glanced at the floor, fiddling with her thumbs. Leon only took a step closer and before she could react, he held her hands in his. Her cheeks burned hotter.
"Stop doing that," He whispered, glancing at her thumbs. "It's an anxiety thing, right? When you're nervous or upset, you scratch your thumbs?"
She nodded in reply as Leon leaned forward.
Was he going to kiss her? Just in case he was, she parted her lips slightly. However, he didn't lean in any further much to her dismay.
"You don't need to be nervous around me," He muttered, "I'm not going to hurt you."
He stroked a lock of limp brown hair behind her ear as her hands trembled beneath his. Lightly, he squeezed.
"I like you." He said, looking nervous. "I'm hoping that, eventually, when the time is right...."
She waited expectantly.
"...We can get together." Leon shook his head forcefully as if he wished he could pull the words back into his mouth. "Sorry, I don't know why I said-"
Isabel giggled lightly for a moment, leaning in so their mouths were inches apart.
"I'd like that." She whispered.
He was about to say something else before Mrs Walker interrupted from the kitchen downstairs.
"Dinner!"
Quickly, Isabel kissed Leon on the cheek and skipped past him before he could do anything else.

Leon Walker, 7:26PM
"Very wrongly mistreated," Mrs Walker continued to talk about Paul at dinner, Mr Walker listening intently. "Like I said earlier in the car, I refuse to let Isabel back there until Paul apologizes."
Mr Walker winked at Leon when he thought no one was looking but Leon noticed the blush on Isabel's pale cheeks a moment afterward. Mel, like always, noticed nothing as she was nose deep in a novel named Frankenstein. Mrs Walker scolded her once again for reading at the table and grudgingly, she lowered her book to finish the rest of her ravioli.
"I really am grateful for everything today, Kelly." Isabel said, knife dissecting a square of ravioli.
Kelly smiled at her, reaching across the table to pat her elbow.
"You're such a lovely girl," Kelly complimented, then turned to Mel. "I wish you were as polite as this."
Mel grunted in reply and continued to ignore everybody, her back hunching over her plate of food. Leon rolled his eyes.
"What time are we going to the doctor's tomorrow?" Leon quizzed, a sickening feeling churning deep in the pit of his stomach.
Mrs Walker pretended that the atmosphere hadn't just plummeted, forcing a small smile and from the corner of her eyes, watching her husband's reaction also.
"Two in the afternoon," She paused, "They need to take it off and clean it, I don't think they'll be putting any more bandages on afterward though, sweetheart."
In many ways, Leon hoped they had to. There was no doubt about it that he would look better with a bandage on rather than off, at least then it would cover the ugliness beneath. Isabel smiled at him reassuringly but it had no impact. Leon was frightened. It may only just be his appearance but it will now affect everyone's first impressions of him, change the way they portray him in their head. When they peer back on memories, except photos, they'll remember him with a scar not his normal skin.
"Maybe you'll look like Frankenstein's monster!" Mel laughed, finally looking up from her plate of food. "That'll be-"
"Room!" Kelly shouted, "Go to your room!"
Leon sighed.
"Mom, it really doesn't matt-"
"Melanie Louise Walker, don't just sit there! Take your dinner and eat it in your room! I will not tolerate that kind of...mindless, cruel behaviour. Think before you speak, you stupid girl."
"Kelly-" Mr Walker chimed in.
"No Kevin," Her voice choked up before softening slightly. "Melanie, go to your room."
Mel shot up from her seat, glaring at Leon in particular before storming up the stairs. Isabel winced when the sound of a door slamming echoed from the bedroom. Leon mouthed "sorry" to her when she glanced his way.
"I'm sorry Leon." His Mother apologized, tears welling in her eyes. "She's a clever girl but not very tactical. I'm also sorry to you too Isabel, not the very best example huh?"
Isabel smiled politely.
"Compared to my house?" She laughed, "This is Heaven."

Noah Walker, 7:43 PM
He was sick of crying, absolutely sick to death of it. His head ached from the pounding it had received from Ryan's fists, his body battered and beaten with dark violet bruises like artwork on his skin. Beside his bed, his phone lay there but he didn't have the heart to ring Christopher and tell him what happened.
Leon.
That's who he really wanted to call. But something stopped him, a feeling he couldn't yet identify. Instead of messaging Leon, ringing Chris or reading: he was going to go for a walk. Usually, he wouldn't even consider it especially because it was September and Portland was extremely cold. But now? What would he rather do? Go out for a walk, collect some fresh air and think things through? Or would he rather stay inside where his family hated him and battered him, labelling him as 'sick' and 'twisted'?
First option, please.
However, he knew he wouldn't be able to just walk out the door with no questions asked. No. Noah had to be tactical, clever and although it was cliche; it was his only option.
Noah's room was based on the second floor, the highest in the house, and beside his bed sat a window. A thick layer of dust eluded the nosey outside world, the glass scratched and fragile. To open it, all he needed to do was click the handle and push it wide. Once he'd done that, he could easily slip his slim frame through. There were stable metal pipes climbing up the brick wall, easy to get a grip on.
Cliche? He was going to climb out the window.
Where he was going to go? He had no clue.

8:03 PM
Wandering around for a long while, fingers becoming bitten by frost; Noah left the park, walking away from the jeering kids on the climbing frames. The cigarette smoke was obvious, even from so many metres apart. It made his stomach lurch; the smell of smoke always disgusted him, a habit that he didn't - or ever wanted to - understand. Ignoring the children on the playground, perhaps eighth graders showing off to their friends, he continued down the stone pathway.
After a while of being tortured with his own thoughts and feelings, he tried to distract his preoccupied brain with a song. Hickory, Dickory Dock.
"Hickory, Dickory Dock."
"You disgust me."
"The mouse ran up the clock."
"I'm sorry Noah,"
"The clock struck one,"
His life was draining with his body's blood.
"The mouse ran down."
Noah couldn't do this anymore. The next lyrics were laced with dismal, continuous, never ending sadness.
"Hickery, Dickery Dock."
He burst into tears. All his life, there was a pattern. Whenever he was happy or felt even a slight ray of sunshine in his thick fog of a life; something bad would happen to destroy any happiness that remained. The main instigator?
Reaching for his phone, he scrolled through the contacts. This was a number he hadn't dialled in months. Despite his trembling fingers, he rang her anyway. She was madly religious and perhaps she wouldn't accept him for who he was. However, he felt so extremely alone as if any hope he'd held onto had been torn away from him deliberately. She was his last shot.
"Hello?"
His breaths became quick.
"Mom?"
Silence.
Then, his Father's angry, disappointing tone repeated in his memory like a mocking reminder of what a disappointment Noah was to his family.
"It turns out, you're just as sick and twisted as your Mother."
This was his desperate last attempt.
"Mom? It's me, Noah." His voice trembled. "I was hoping I could stay with you for a while."