Chapter Text
I. 1973
Alex crouched at the back of a darkened closet. His body taut as he watched - waiting - counting the beats of blood hammering in his head. He licked at a bead of sweat from the precipice of his top lip and let the stifling midday July heat crowd him into submission.
Alex had rushed into the closet as Roxy, the neighbour’s golden retriever, began to bark. The kids at the bus stop loved to tease him about being scared of that dog. Their shouts and jeers when he flinched at every yip and bark always made his face burn with rage and embarrassment. He’d tell them through clenched teeth, hands fisting at his side as he shook - restraining himself from lashing out - that it wasn’t true. He wasn’t scared. Not of that dog, or any dog. He couldn’t tell them. Not about what followed the barking most afternoons. Alex tried to fold further into the shadows as he waited.
A thin strip of light sliced down his face across one eye. The limited view of the front door was the only flaw in his hiding space. He still wasn’t strong enough to close the closet door all the way. The house was silent but for the soft snores of his mother in the kitchen and the crisp clink of bottles that came with each movement. She’d been there since last night. A mumble of ‘clean it’ was the only thing she’d said to him after he’d dropped his cereal that morning. Above the muted noises of the house he heard a car door slam followed by more barks. Alex inched further in to the back corner as a shadow broke the light streaming in.
“Stay still, be quiet,” he mouthed to himself as the front door crashed open. He had to be silent, motionless. Alex had to disappear. He watched from the dark as a pair of boots and jeans stamped past the closet toward the kitchen. Alex cringed and covered his ears against the smashing of bottles. The crescendo fell quickly into flesh smashing against flesh and ending in a thump of dead weight hitting the linoleum. Stinging sweat dripped into his eyes.
There was silence, for one long harrowing moment. Alex took a breath and began to relax. It was over quickly today. Then his foot slipped and hit the side of the closet. Alex flinched at the sound and curled himself up as tightly as he could, clenching his teeth against the anger that exploded within him as tears swelled in his eyes and burned their way down his cheeks. He was so stupid, couldn’t stay quiet, stay still. It was all his fault.
Footsteps left the kitchen and stopped in front of his closet, just out of sight. There was a whisper of leather slipping through denim loops. Alex closed his eyes against the bright summer day that lay beyond the front door left open and felt the cool suction of air against his face as the door was flung open. A large hand wrenched into his hair ripping him out into the light.
Alex was six years old.