Page 3 of Insidious Heart
One knocks and waits for a reply while the other takes on the brunt of my weight, my head still fuzzy and struggling to adjust to light and sounds after spending the day in solitary confinement.
I should be used to it by now, used to the endless days spent in that tiny room deprived of light and sound, forced to piss in a bucket in the corner after being given nothing at all to quiet the empty screeching in my stomach. I should be used to the torture, the so-calledprofessionalsinflict on me after three years of living here, but I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to it.
The minute I do, the second I accept any of it as the way things are meant to be, I’m as good as dead.
Instead, while I’m in thereflection roomor in this office forconfession,I check out.
I allow my mind to detach and go to a better place; one where Toby and I are far away and living a life we’ve never had. A small house deep in the woods, far away from everyone and everything that could ever try to hurt us. I imagine the life I so desperately want to give my brother, filled with all the things neither of us have ever had, and even though it helps get through whatever is happening to me at the time, I’ll never get used to the abrupt way our reality comes crashing down on me when it’s over.
“You may enter,” the Monsignor calls out moments before the orderly opens the door and shoves me inside.
I stumble into the dimly lit room, unable to balance myself since therobeI’m wearing has my arms bound at my sides, my eyes squinting against the candlelight and abundance of religious relics scattering the walls.
It’s a relatively empty space, not much other than two chairs on this side of the small wooden desk Wicker is now standing behind, and a medium-size cabinet to his right. But the walls are covered with paintings of Jesus Christ and his mortal mother, the saints and the Pope. There’s even a big-ass crucifix hanging between two stained glass windows behind Wicker, and the way the moon shines through makes him look like the evil bastard he is.
“Oh, Victor.” The Monsignor sighs as he looks me over. “What have you gotten yourself into this time?”
I clench my jaw as I force myself to stand straight, regardless of all the places where it hurts.
Wicker shakes his head as he tsks. “I see you’ve taken several steps back after the progress we made during your last confession.”
Progress, my ass.
But instead of arguing, I calmly ask, “When can I see Toby?”
The Monsignor regards me for a minute, his eyes shrewd behind his glasses. Then he nods as he rounds the desk and stands a foot or two in front of me. “I suppose you’re rather eager to see your brother after twenty-four hours in reflection. That must be the longest you’ve been separated in almost a week now.”
Jesus.
I knew I was in solitary longer than I thought I’d be, but I didn’t realize it was that long.
“I’ll allow it, but only because I truly believe we’re finally getting somewhere with your spiritual journey.” Wicker nods to the orderlies, and the two leave quickly. “I was concerned when Sister Sylvia came to me, worried over your regression, but the fact that you were able to fight the demon’s hold and did not put hands on the lovely woman this time has me hopeful that exorcism is a path we won’t have to take.”
My jaw tightens as the Monsignor begins to slowly circle around me, his gaze burning every inch it rakes over. It makes me sick, the way he looks at me, the way this sick bastard looks at all the boys my age.
But enduring it, enduringhim, kept Toby safe.
It kept all of them safe, really, and I’d put up with this disgusting fuck and hismethodsfor another three years so long as it meant my brother and all of the other boys would avoid being subjected to them.
Wicker comes to stand in front of me again just as the office door opens and closes, and when it does, the look this man gives me sends chills down my spine.
“It seems that your poor brother was full of demons.” There’s athudbehind me, then the sound of the office door again. “Demons that had the sweet boy’s soul riddled with darkness and depravity.”
I turn slowly, my heart hammering in my chest, the sound of my blood rushing in my ears so loud it almost drowns out the cry of agony that rips from my throat as I drop to my knees.
There on the floor, in a heap and still in his pajamas, lies Toby.
Motionless and quiet, his little body eerily still andbloodyfrom the waist down.
I scoot on my knees as quickly as possible, falling forward when I finally reach my brother. I use my shoulder to roll him onto his back, and my eyes well and my anger begins to rise.
His dark blue eyes are wide and filmy, bloodshot and lifeless. The skin around his lips is tinted blue, his cherub cheeks stained with tears, a spot of dry blood underneath his button nose. And when my eyes move over his face, when they trace every horrible detail before landing on the clear bruises around Toby’s throat, that anger turns into something else entirely.
Murderous rage.
“I failed with your brother, Victor.” The Monsignor grabs my elbow firmly and pulls me to my feet. “I should have started seeing him sooner; should have turned to more extreme methods when I had the chance.” He guides me to his desk again, positioning me with my back to the front of it while my eyes stay locked on Toby. “Unfortunately, those demons had their claws in him so deeply that Tobias didn’t stand a chance, but I truly believe I can help you, Victor.”
I clench my teeth so hard that my jaw throbs and my teeth ache as Wicker’s hands move to the top of my pajama pants. I don’t make a sound, don’t make a move, because I know what’s coming.
