Trapped part 1

Chapter 72

Trapped

Part 1

It wasn’t my mother's fault and there was no one to blame. I felt justified for breaking his nose, after what he had done to my mother and shirts can easily be replaced. The time had arrived as my brother helped me carry my things to the car. I was hoping he wouldn’t go with me, but instead, he climbed in next to me. The closer we got to home the harder it was to hold back the tears. Mom to was trying not to cry and not daring to say the words, but the silence only made it worst. I took her hand and squeezed it, hugging my brother closes to me.

It was even harder still when she pulled up to the house watching my family come and great us. Shane and Jody quickly took my things into the house. So I could have my last moments with my mother and my brother. I hugged them both as hard I could before the tears were uncontrollable. I told them each how much I loved them then quickly ran into the house hearing my brother screaming my name. It hurt even more, but if I went back it would only make it worst. So I dove into my room and closed the door and flung myself on my bed and cried into my pillow.

It wasn’t long before Mom and Dad came in and the tears started all over again. Even more so as I cried against Dad’s shoulder. After a hot bath, I felt better, it didn’t bother me having Mom stay and wash my back. I think she did it to ease her mind that I wasn’t harmed. Dad was angry about what my father did seeing the red mark on my face. We both knew it would be a light bruise, but I have suffered far worse. I told him I was sorry for letting him make me angry. He simply said if he was in my place, he would have done worse than break his nose and felt that he had earned it for what he did to my mother.

Dad too felt better helping Mom dry me off, in my bedroom and after quick once over I was good to go. Mom helped me unpack placing all my clothes into the hamper to be washed, it didn’t matter if they were clean or dirty, Mom was Mom. I smiled inside thinking about my father seeing my brothers either wearing boxers or shorts, putting on my apron to help with dinner. Dad still hadn’t found the missing tranquilizers and the fact they were still being punished as I watched them run laps told me everything I needed to know.

Mom and Jody were happy to have me home again earning several kisses from her and my sister which made the heartache lessen. Dad too would hug me and kiss me on the head. But I still cried when I thought about them, wondering what they were doing. Most likely Aaron and my mother too were thinking about me. I needed to stop thinking about them, but I couldn’t. Mom would catch me wiping my tears on the back my hands and hug my shoulders telling me she was glad to have me home. I tried to say I too was glad to be back, but the words kept sticking in my throat.

By the time supper was on the table, I was almost back to normal and was able to talk about my adventures and how I played the piano in front of my mother's ward. Unlike my father, Dad was proud of me. He didn’t think playing the piano or gymnastics or swimming was for sissies. They were just as manly as anything else I did and it made him angry that my father considers them as such. I had decided to keep to what my father said to me to myself considering they were ravings from a psychopath. I was surprised by the time we had our Sunday devotional, I only had to read one, not two like I had thought, but it didn’t stop Mom and Dad from reading them both anyway.

But as night time came I knew I was in trouble, watching the sky darkened and I knew it was going to be a very bad night I was only glad that I was home rather than at my parent's house seeing and smelling the rain. I had just reached my room when the lightning struck, with a loud crackle that shook the house. Shane and Dad were there in seconds reaching for me before I went out of control, but it was too late. I had told Dad earlier that I hadn’t slept in nearly three days. Mom knew that if it continued that an episode was more likely to happen even more so if stormed. Tonight she made the doses stronger to put me out, but seeing the storm brewing outside the kitchen window she prayed it would be strong enough.

I screamed seeing my father come close to me and began to get into my fighting stance, bending my knees, giving him one my tiger growls. All I saw was him and me, and no one else. The lightning flashed three times, watching him get closer I kicked out with a low twist. Watching him grab my foot from kicking him in the stomach, I felt a sharp pin poke, thinking it was bug bite which was common down in the church house basement. I felt suddenly dizzy, I shook my head to clear it bring my arm up and round doing half turn making him release my foot.

I stumbled losing my footing, noting it was getting harder to concentrate. I blinked several times, but all I saw was the light above him and it too was getting fuzzy. I cleared my head and brought my hand up for right cross only to be stop with some sort of a barrier that I couldn’t see. I screamed “I am going to kill you for what you did to my mother. I am going to bath in your blood when I gut you from inside out.”

Again I fell slightly forward, the biting flies buzzing around my head. My punches and kicks were getting sloppy. I knew I was in trouble having stumbled again and it was getting harder to concentrate. I swung my fist only to watch it and my body drops to the ground, sliding down the slowly against the cement wall.  I heard my father say “Time to die sissy boy.”

I waited for the end to come, feeling the ropes being tied around me. I couldn’t move. Somehow my father must have drugged me and it wasn’t the biting flies that I thought they were. I waited for the final strike. Watching him come closer, at first I heard garbled words, but when I looked at my father, his lips didn’t move. All I could hear was the leather smacking the palm of his hand, I watched him smiling. At first, the words were faint. “Tiger, can you hear me?” Tiger? Who is tiger? I played it over and over in my mind, but I couldn’t make the connection.

My father was almost on top of me. The words were getting louder. “Tiger, come on Tiger answer me.” Again my father’s lips didn’t move. I took a chance asked him. “What’s my name?” I waited, feeling him lift my chin. I could see his fist ready to strike the final blows; his belt tightening around my throat. He didn’t answer. I yelled at him again “What’s my name?”

He sneered at me as if I should know it. He brought my face to his for one last time and growled. “Sissy boy, you don’t have a name boy, you haven’t earned a name, you hear me, sissy boy now dies like the murdering b*****d you are.”

I smiled and spit in his face telling him. “You can’t hurt me anymore; you are nothing but a dream.”

His face turned red with anger while I watched him bring down his fist to kill me with one final blow. His image shattered the second it touched me I watched as the light blinked above his head. I could hear him scream “Nooooo!” Swing at me over and over, but nothing touched me. I watched as he kept at it only to have his image shatter in front of me over and over again.

I waited to return to my reality, repeating over and over. “I am the tiger with seven stripes,” nothing happened. I was still in the church basement watching the light as it blinked, watching my father helplessly beating me and not feeling it. I said it again even louder, but I still remained where I was. I felt trapped, closed my eyes willing myself to go back. It seemed I was trapped watching my father keep at it. The more I concentrated the more drained I felt. I yelled, “I am the tiger with seven stripes, can anyone hear me?” Getting no answer, I closed my eyes knowing my father couldn’t hurt me here. It seemed I would be trapped here forever.

Time is a fickle thing when you are trapped inside a dream. My mind raced for an answer on how to shatter this dream. The words whispered inside my mind. “Use the well Tiger, use the well.”

My mind screamed. “Jeff, is that you?” Jeff didn’t answer, I dug deep inside trying to feel him, but that spot was still empty. Again the words echoed in my mind. “Use the well, Tiger the well.”

I knew it wasn’t Mom, Dad or Shane. I had yet to tell them about the strange connection that I had with Bishop Earl and Bishop Lanwall. Thinking they would think it was crazy, but it did work, I knew it worked, but the question was would it work inside a dream. Like I said “Time” is a fickle thing. I was trapped here, but the answer seemed right somehow.

I closed my eyes once more knowing my father can’t hurt me here unless I believed he could. I relaxed my body, by taking several deep breaths; Concentrated on the music that I knew like the back of my hand. Feeling the keys one by one, listening to each individual sound that I knew so well. The more I consecrated the louder it got. I focused on filling the room with it, filling each note with touches of light. Each note became clearer and clearer. I could smell the rich scent of pine trees, I could almost feel and see the tall green grass touching my skin; the warm sun tickling my skin. I still couldn’t move so I relaxed each muscle, listening to the music, watching the light surround me.

I could hear voices all around me, calling my name. “Tiger please wake up, Tiger come back to us.” My eyelids felt heavy letting myself take several deep breaths. “Tiger has seven stripes.”

Mom cried “Who is the tiger and what color are his stripes?”

I smiled and slowly opened my eyes. “I am Tiger and I have seven black stripes, I roar because I am the Tiger and I fear nothing.”  Mom cried into my shoulder feeling someone release the bonds that held me in place. Dad picked me up and held him against him rocking me back and forth.

I had learned that they tranquilized me 5 times, during the night. Stating it was my worst episode to date even more so being a storm class episode. I looked at the clock on my dresser and cringed seeing that it was almost noon. My stomach heaved several times almost missing the trashcan. I was more than drained, nearly falling onto the floor but Dad held me by the waist. Heaving, again and again, I didn’t feel so good panting holding on to the edge of the bed and over the garbage can.

Dad was covered with blood and once more I had ruined another one of his shirts. Heaving again, but there was nothing left inside of me. I laid on the edge of my bed, closing my eyes to get the room to stop spinning. I coughed and choked, trying to free whatever was stuck in my windpipe; Mom feeling my head placing a cold cloth against it and taking another to wash my face.  Telling me I had been sick and feverish all night.

I wrinkled my nose at the smell realizing it was me, heaving dry heaves into the bucket. I felt worse than drained I felt awful. It didn’t help matters knowing I had missed school again and this time I was actually sick. I wanted to laugh, but instead, I groaned. Mom raised my head and gave me small sips of water that tasted a lot like minted chock, nearly spitting it out. I soon felt better, as I laid there closing my eyes.

Every muscle felt heavy when I tried to move them. Once Dad knew I was alive and wake from my dream terror. He told me he would run me a bath so Mom and Shane could change my bedding.  I nodded placing my hand over my stomach hearing it growl. Mom knew I was hungry considering I was always hungry, but after a bad stomach, solid food would be a waste of time.

I couldn’t walk without falling down so Dad carried me and placed me in the tub and bathed me himself. He had already removed his bloodstained shirt and work pants. Something my father would never do considering he thought they were nothing, but immoral hillbillies. Mom, Aaron and I knew differently of course. Just thinking about them made me choke up all over again. Mom told him when he was done he could put me back to bed, so she could take my stats since I was wake and me again. I wanted to laugh when she “me again.” Wondering if I would ever be “me again” the way I felt at the moment?

Dad didn’t bother dressing me, just simply dried me off and carried me back to bed. I didn’t have to ask why; it was almost obvious that I had a high fever the way Mom was frowning at me after looking at the thermometer, and I had nothing to be ashamed of. When came to Mom and Dad or any of my brothers and sisters. To us, this was the norm, and apparently, I would be spending my day going back and forth to the tub. Mom spoon fed me some soup; after my hands wouldn’t stop shaking and having them fall as if they were tied down with heavy weights. I wasn’t sure if it was due to the fever or I was weak from the effects of digging too deep into that well or both.

I had slept most of the day after several trips to the tub, but I was able to keep food down, which was an improvement I thought. Mom had promised my grandmother that I would call her once I got out of the tub for the 5th time; having Dad sit me in his favorite soft chair in the dining room looking out into the field. Once she heard my voice she sighed with relief, but afterward, the tongue lashing began for not calling her last night having to call my mother to find out that she had taken me home hours ago.

Dad had explained to her that I had storm class episode, for not sleeping for three days and the fact we had bad storm last night didn’t help, but it didn’t get me off the hook for not calling her when I woke, having her state it was almost 5 pm. I apologized telling her I was fine. Well, fine is relative at the moment, the fact I feel weak as a newborn kitten. I wasn’t going to tell her that when I had relieved her of her fears. Dad reminded her that I had a recital on Wednesday and gymnastics meet on Thursday and a fight on Saturday. Grandma promised she’d be there for the recital and the Gymnastic meet, and would consider going to my Kick Boxing tournament, but gave no promises.

Like Mom and my mother, Grandma doesn’t like to see my fights because sometimes they can be quite violent. I told her that the next one after this one was to see who would go on to the nationals. The prize was 5,000 dollars and a home gym. I wanted to give Shane and Dad the prize. But the way I felt at the moment I was beginning to doubt myself. I told grandma I had to go, handing Dad the phone opened the back door and vomited what was left over from lunch. If I was wearing a towel I wasn’t now. Having it drop off the second I opened the door. Not that it mattered in the Rothwell family it was the norm.

When I was done I laid on the grass, closing my eyes to get the world to stop spinning. I had been sick before, but this seemed a lot different. Mom was starting to get concerned.  I didn’t have to ask, and it didn’t take a genius to know there would be no school for me tomorrow; even though I was concerned about it, my teachers weren’t. Telling Mom and Dad I would have been bored anyway since I had already covered the material and they were simply trying to play catch up. I had turned in my midterm papers and had them typed to give me extra points, the points that I didn’t need when I was already getting an “A.” Dad came back with two tests and nothing else’s in case I was out the entire week.

I told him that wasn’t going to happen, not with a recital, a gymnastics meet and a Kick-Boxing tournament all in the same week. Dad said my health was more important than any of that, but I disagreed; long enough to heave again into the bucket near my bed. I hate feeling sick when I had lots to do and lying there trapped in my bed didn’t help. Tuesday came and went missing swim practice which wasn’t a big deal since I just had a meet and wouldn’t have another one for at least another month. By Wednesday I still wasn’t up to snuff and nor had I slept much considering I couldn’t keep my meds down. But my fever was sporadic most of the previous night and throughout the day.

I put on my big boy pants after vomiting twice for the day and dug deep to find that extra strength. I convinced Mom and Dad that I’d be sitting not moving around like a crazy person and walking mostly on my own two feet. I skipped lunch after losing my breakfast, drinking more water and that nasty concoction to help relieve my stomach. It was 30 minutes to show time and found a toilet. When my teacher asked about it, I lied, said it was just nerves, in some ways it was the truth. In other not so much, I even lied saying the lights were making me sweat dabbing a cold towel over and over my feverous face.

I quickly took my seat at the piano, very much wanting to strip down to my boxers, but it would be unprofessional so I relaxed, dug deep finding my relaxing calm and played my heart out. Only made one mistake and cringed when I did it, cussing my sweat dripping into my eyes and making my fingers sweaty.

The crowd cheered and clapped my family standing and applauding me. I was disappointed that my mother and brother didn’t come, but grandma was front and center. I knew my father most like to forbid them, but my mother had heard me play the same piece over and over. I quickly made an exit after a quick bow running for the restroom. I wasn’t the only one doing it because of nerves, noticing it was my competition. I wished him good luck as we both wash our faces. Took my seat waiting, hearing I am among the top in the ranks of getting a spot.

My next piece would break me or put me over the top. I felt sick again drinking small sips of water to keep my stomach calm. The waiting was unbearable even worse having to go to the restroom so often. I dug deep trying to scrape enough energy to last through my next piece; it wasn’t a hard piece like the last one. We had chosen to do the one less practiced first, but I knew it had to be just a flawless. After one more trip to the restroom and several cold towels. I took my seat swallowed my gum that prevented, bad breath. For at the moment I reeked of it.

I rubbed my hands dry on my pants and mopped my brow with my sleeve, taking deep breaths. I counted to three and began. I quickly caught myself before I stumbled over a tricky note that I had done a least a million times. Like before it was almost flawless. I knew it, I felt it when that note sounded odd, but I kept going; letting the music vibrate in me, taking me into that obsess of quiet joy. I was the music and the music was me.

Once again the crowd cheered, there wasn’t a dry eye in the house. Mom and Grandma had gone through a whole box of tissues. I knew they were proud I could see it in their eyes; Dad too was wiping his eyes pointing to me telling anyone that would listen “that’s my son.” I bowed for the last time having to make another quick exit. I felt weak, I felt drained taking my seat while the judges conferred with each other.

I sat there trapped in my mind. Did I do enough? I could I have done any better? Of course, I could have, I could have practiced more; forced myself to the piano instead of laying trapped sick in bed.  The waiting, oh how I hated waiting. My teacher shook me from my mind telling me to stand, after hearing my name called for the second time. I thought I was going to be sick, but somehow, by some miracle, I had taken the 10th spot. I was stunned standing there realizing I had actually done it. I felt faint slumping into my chair completely drained.

Dad and Mom hugged me while others shook my sweaty hand. Grandma's nose wrinkled whispering I smelled awful. I didn’t offer an explanation and quickly made a quick exit. Again I wasn’t the only one seeing my competition in the next stall and having him congratulate me. He had taken the 9th spot and looked as bad as I did.

Dad, Mom, and my brothers and sisters wanted to go out to eat celebrate. Personally, I wanted to lye down and die quietly. I ordered a light salad after eating it I had to make another quick exit. Mom felt my head telling Dad and Grandma I was burning up, asking me if I needed to go home. I said “no. I fine;” only too make another quick exit, ruining my party.

Grandma had Dad fill the tub while she undressed me. Mom took my temperature and blood pressure. Telling her it was 101 and my blood pressure was a little high. Not surprising considering I was under a lot of stress. Again I didn’t have to ask, I knew there would be no school for me tomorrow, and at the moment I doubted I live long enough. I also knew there was no way I was going to Gymnastic; I wouldn’t have the strength to compete. I hated to let down my team, but I also knew if I did go I could injure myself and Dads right, my health was more important. I accepted the fact lying there and cried into my pillow, that I am letting everyone down being trapped here in bed.