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“Jacob. Where have you been?”
Ah, I thought numbly. So I'm screwed.
I should’ve known this was going to come back around and smack me in the face. Staying out this late – I knew it was against my father’s inane rules, but… I'd been having fun. The peculiars wanted me around for some reason, at least for the moment. Though I didn’t doubt that the novelty would probably wear off pretty quick, I still wanted to savour getting to hang out with them without feeling like they were all sick of me.
My dad was sitting in a chair in the corner of the living room area, arms cross and face cold. “You knew the rules, Jake. Back. By. Six.”
“I– I know, I–”
“What time does that clock say, Jacob?” He cut me off. “Read it to me. You’ve got enough sense for that, haven’t you?”
An unpleasantly familiar sickened feeling was starting to grow in my stomach. I hated being talked to like this, but there was nothing I could do. It would be over faster if I just played my part and didn’t get mouthy.
“It says 10:43,” I mumbled.
“Speak up, Jake. I didn’t raise a mouse, I raised a man. Act like it.”
“10:43,” I said, speaking louder this time.
“10:43, what?”
“I– I don’t know.”
“It’s 10:43, sir. And now, it’s 10:44. You’re wasting my time and being disrespectful, Jake.”
“I’m sorry. S-sir.”
“Better.” His tone was like biting ice as he stood. “That’s four hours and forty-three minutes during which I had no idea where you were. Do you know what I was thinking, Jacob?”
“N-no, I don’t.”
“And now we’re talking back. ‘Ohh, no I don’t’, what are you, some sort of punk? You could at least stand to show some respect for your elders if you’re going to be so problematic. It’s not hard, Jake. All you had to do was come back at six. No chores, no responsibilities, just be home by six. Is that so hard?”
“No, sir. I’m–”
“I don’t want excuses, Jacob, I want answers. Where were you? Who were you with?”
“I was— I got lost looking for th-the old children’s home. I heard it was northwest, but I couldn’t find it an-and it got dark faster than I thought it would–”
“And you couldn’t see the sun setting? You have eyes, why don’t you ever use them? Common sense? I’ve told you that you’re not to go anywhere alone.” In moments, his tone changed from icy and unforgiving to something almost softer, but that biting edge was still present. Like a knife wrapped in wool. “I want you to be safe, champ. It’s not hard. If you just listened to me, we wouldn’t be having these problems.”
My fault again. Just like always. I nodded numbly. “Yes, sir.”
“There we go. Respect your elders, respect your curfew, and we won’t have to have a talk like this again.” He walked over to the door to my room, right next to his own. “Go to bed, Jacob. We’ll discuss your punishment in the morning.”
“M-my what?”
And there was that icy flash in his eyes, overtaking the overwhelmingly fake softness in less than a second. “You broke the rules, Jake. There will be consequences for your actions. And since you’re so eager to ask questions tonight, we’ll decide it now. You’re not to leave your room tomorrow unless you’re using the bathroom, and you’re not to leave this building unless I tell you to. If you can’t be home on time, you won’t be going out at all. Do I make myself clear?”
“...yes, sir.”
The door to the larger bedroom shut behind him. A second later, I shut my door, as well.
I was breaking my promise to the peculiars. I knew that much as I laid down on the bed, barely having the sense to kick my shoes off before I brought my feet up on top of the ratty covers. The whole quilt smelled like a thrift store, an oddly comforting scent as I stretched out face-first on the grey fabric and sighed.
Of course there would be consequences for staying out late, but what was I supposed to do? I had been a little preoccupied during the day with the whole time loop situation, but I couldn’t really explain that to my father. The peculiars had mentioned something about using the loop entrance to tell that I was peculiar, as if it didn't let ‘normals’, as they called them, through. My dad was about as normal as it got – there was no way he would be getting through that loop entrance.
Telling him everything was out of the question. I couldn’t really disobey, either, which only left… staying inside for the whole day. The day that I had promised the peculiars to come back on.
What if they thought I didn’t want to see them? For all I knew, time passed differently in the loop and I could be gone for three weeks instead of just a day, but even if it passed the same, I was breaking a promise. I hated going back on my word. But… it wasn't like I could do anything about it. I would just have to wait it out and then apologise profusely if when I saw them again.
But no matter what I wanted, what I thought, I couldn’t do anything about this. It would play out whether I wanted it to or not, so the only thing I could do was play along.
oOoOo
Tap. Tap. Tap.
My fingernails clicked against the creaky wood of the bedframe as I stared up at the ceiling, music playing through my earbuds – the ones I wasn’t supposed to have, but that I had gotten from Ricky and promptly hidden away in the torn lining of my jacket so that nobody found them.
“I didn’t, I didn’t know I, could drown in shallow water, shallow water…”
Weathers, Shallow Water. Usually one of my favourite songs, but right now, it was just making me miserable. Sighing quietly, I flipped my phone over and clicked on a different song, cutting off the chorus halfway through as it switched to a new melody. I turned my phone back on its screen, leaving the dim blue light to soak into the scratchy blanket on the bed.
I didn’t really have much to do in my room, except maybe stare at the ceiling and count the boards. It was just a cube of boredom, and I was trapped in here until my father decided I’d had long enough to ‘think about what I’d done’.
…well, that was rather pessimistic. Then again, I never did pretend to be an optimist.
Actually, maybe there was something I could do. Reaching into my backpack, I unzipped the hidden pocket inside with one hand and brought out my sketchbook, flipping past pages where I’d doodled various people and scenes until I reached a sheet that was blank. My pencil was tucked into the gap in the book’s spine as usual, and it easily slid out into my waiting palm as I tipped the book forwards.
Starting with a circle like usual, I managed to sketch out the rough shape of a head, the playlist switching to Devil Town as I eventually ran out of Weathers songs to listen to. I’d probably just replay the exact same sequence of music later, like I always did.
Facial structure almost skeletal, with bulging eyes and mottled skin drawn taut over sharp bones. I laid out the rough idea on paper, forgoing shading in favour of the outline’s accuracy. It wasn’t the first time I’d drawn something just from memory, but I doubted I would ever forget what this looked like. Three tendril-like tongues and a jaw unhinged too far. Ink dripping from the mouth.
There it was – the Lovecraftian horror that had murdered my grandfather, drawn out in smudged graphite for the world to see.
Why did I even feel the need to immortalise that thing, anyways? Now it was just going to stare at me and leech my soul through its blank, pencilled eyes until I was a lifeless husk and it became real enough to claw its way off the page.
Scowling, I closed my sketchbook and tossed it off my bed with a huff. It landed quietly right on top of my backpack, but as I watched, the edge teetered precariously for mere moments before tilting too far and sliding right onto the floor with an upsettingly loud thud. I froze, immediately yanking my headphones out of the phone port and stuffing them inside the lining of my hoodie, closing out of the window with my music playing and opening a research page on the chemical warfare used in WWII trenches.
Not even a second after I started scrolling absently, the door opened with one sharp movement, revealing my father. “I heard you throwing things around, Jake.”
I looked up, turning off my phone and placing it face-down on the bed. Can’t put it away yet, or he’ll think I’m hiding something. “I didn’t throw anything.” It was useless to argue with him or deny my supposed transgressions, of course, but that wouldn’t stop me from at least trying.
Sure enough, his mouth pinched into an irritated frown. “I don’t appreciate being lied to, Jake. Just admit that you couldn’t handle your emotions, and we can move on with this discussion.” His tone left no room for debate or interpretation, cold and clear-cut as a block of dry ice. It was a tone I was all too familiar with.
“I didn’t throw anything. My sketchbook slid off of my backpack and onto the floor.” I pointed to where it lay, still on the floor. Technically, that was what happened – I just didn’t mention that I tossed it beforehand. Besides, I didn’t toss it out of ‘misplaced anger’ or something, I’d tossed it because I hadn’t wanted to get up just to put it two feet out of reach. “I was just sitting on the bed, I swear.”
“Oh, you swear?” He scoffed. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to trust you, Jacob, when all you ever seem to do is lie. It shouldn’t have to be my fault that you’re having so much trouble with a simple task like controlling yourself, and yet somehow you always try to blame me.”
“I’m n–not lyi–”
“I don’t want to hear your excuses. Admit you threw the book, Jacob. I know you did it. Stop trying to trick me like some sort of delinquent.”
“But I–”
“Jacob. Tell. The. Truth.”
I fell silent, staring at the sketchbook and chewing on the inside of my lip.
“I’m waiting, Jac–”
“I’m sorry. I threw the book.”
“And now we’re interrupting.” He sniffed, “You took your time with that.”
“Sorry.”
“Sorry, what?”
“...sir.”
“Better.” My father looked around for a moment, eyes falling on my phone. “And I suppose you were spending the whole time on that little cell phone of yours? This isn’t meant to be playtime, Jake. This is time for you to reflect on your actions and see what you did wrong. What did you do wrong, Jacob?”
His eyes were boring into my head. I always hated eye contact, but for some reason, it felt so much worse right now. “Disobeyed.”
“Is that all you have to say for yourself?” He tutted, reaching down onto the bedspread and plucking up my phone with a two-fingered grip. “Were you even doing anything worthwhile on here?”
“I was– was researching chemi–”
“Password, Jacob.”
“Three-nine-three-s-seven.”
The screen opened, changing the glow from the soft beige of the map I’d set as my lockscreen to the thin blue glow of the default homescreen. I watched the light subtly change as he started opening and closing applications. “Obviously, you weren’t doing anything worthwhile on here, then. Researching trenches? Really, Jake? You could be so bright if you listened to us more, and yet you’re squandering yourself on this– this drabble.”
“It’s not drabble,” I mumbled.
He turned on his heel to leave, stopping when the door was almost completely closed behind him. My phone was still in his hand. “You’re going to have to keep that awful attitude of yours in check, Jacob. Nobody likes a liar.”
The door clicked shut.
I’m not a liar. I’m not.
I shouldn’t have tossed my sketchbook. He wouldn’t have come in here otherwise, and I wouldn’t have had to hide my headphones and stop my playlist. It’s my fault he was mad.
No, it wasn’t. Why should I have to be silent all the time and pretend to not have interests just because they want a future CEO instead of a son?
They’re my parents. They’re not… the best, but they think they’re doing the right thing. The least I can do is just play along for now, because it’s not like I can do anything about it right now. The only outcome of me starting to rebel would be the situation getting worse, and I can’t afford that.
I just have to keep my head down. It wouldn’t be so hard if I could just keep myself under control.