Teenage Baby

Chapter 36

Chapter 36:

I don't care anymore.

It was the last thing Aaron had said before he disconnected.

For a few days, all he did was sit silently on his bed; lean his head back against the headboard and watch through the large glass pane of the window as the life outside proceeded-the sun would rise from beneath the horizon, casting waves of its soft rays across the vast fields of lush greens and thick trees. Everything glowed, but Aaron felt like darkness was coming from within him. Then the sun would dip down again, and on cue the moon would shine with all its glory up in the starry skies, preening as its ethereal luminance beat that of the thousands of stars around it.

And the cycle would continue; the life outside that psychopathic house would continue-the trees would grow and birds would chirp, the flowers would blossom and the breeze would sweep along the still air. Nothing stopped in calamity of the situation Aaron was drowning in.

Everything functioned like normal. But Aaron didn't.

It was like everything was playing but he was paused; like everything was connected but he was disconnected; like everything was moving but he was frozen. He felt like the wire connecting him to life had been unplugged, and it was like he was just existing physically, taking up space, but not quite living and not quite dead.

And even after those days, Aaron still didn't quite know what to do or how to feel. The door was locked all the time, and the only time it would be left just slightly open, he'd catch the captors' shadows looming along the threshold as they prowled behind the door, peeking at him when they thought he wasn't looking. But he'd see them. And he'd know that they were watching every breath that left his lips, every muscle that moved in his body.

He refused to eat and drink, refused to move or speak. Leo had tried to convince him to nibble on a sandwich, but he hadn't succeeded. All he'd managed to get out of Aaron was a barely-there acknowledging nod.

Mommy felt a particular ache in her chest at the loss of his interaction with anything. She missed hearing his laughter and voice, missed when he'd be mischievous and cuddle with her. Even though they'd turned out just an act, she still couldn't forget the warm feel of her baby so close to her and the sensation of his skin beneath her fingertips.

Lou missed the playful fights with his nephew as well. He missed messing with Aaron so much. He missed annoying him and watching as he'd become defensive then laugh again. And as he listened to the constant silence sticking to the air around Aaron, he began fantasizing about the moment Aaron would finally speak again; he wondered what Aaron's first word would be, and to whom he'd tell it. He imagined it to be a string of obscenities, perhaps, and he couldn't really blame Aaron if it turned so.

Daddy was trying to contain his anger.

Aaron's first words came when his mind found residence in the memories of his weakness; it lingered there, on the times he could've fled if he'd been strong enough to fight three captors. He imagined how different it would've been if he had that much strength, but then again, even if he were strong, one against three wasn't going to work, regardless of his strength or weakness. Three strong captors could take down one person, strong or not.

But it was this thought that finally had his voice ringing in the air.

Lou strolled into the room, the same gaping hopelessness in his chest as he took in Aaron still in the same position as the past few days; he'd noticed some minor progress when he'd acknowledged him the day before and even spoke a word to Leo, but he was sure it didn't mean Aaron was back to normal.

He stood by Aaron's bed. "Hey. I know how lost you feel right now, but can you like just say one word. Just one. You're worrying me so much." His hand reached out, ruffling his hair. Aaron's eyes were hooded and tired, and his pale skin was worse than usual-such a sickly yellow color.