I got into a lot of fights as a kid. Being only fourteen at the time, I always thought they were worth the pain, even if I had to sit through another meeting. Living in the foster system for six years wasn’t very fun, but the meetings after were a special form of torture for me. No matter where I was placed, the same meeting with the adults would play out every time: staredown, scolding, and punishment. This time, I was stuck in an uncomfortable plastic chair across from a particularly tired looking social worker. I remember the mass of crumpled tissues I had pressed against my nose, coupled with the black eye which stung every time I touched it. Sitting next to me was the reason I was in this mess to begin with. The kid’s name was Alan. I’d only known him for a few weeks at most but in that time he’d made himself out to be a pain in my ass. It was bound to boil over eventually.

Being generous, about ten minutes had passed since our fight in the common room. Alan was holding an ice pack in each hand, one against his head and another against his arm. From the look of the darkening bruise on his wrist, it was probably sprained. The kid was still fuming over it. His breathing was exaggerated, and I could see the beads of sweat on his beat red face. I think this was the first time he’d gotten caught for something. For me though, I’d lost count.

“I think it’s time.” The social worker spoke up from across the table. Her name tag read “Nielsen.” I had seen her a few times before, but had never paid much attention to her. Then again, I didn’t pay attention to a lot of things. What little I knew about her came from her appearance, mostly. She wore thick framed glasses slightly too big for her face, and she seemed to be in her early thirties. The smell of cheap cigarettes seemed to cling to her cardigan like a shadow. Her voice was shrill, and I imagined if this was a different setting she’d have some very different words for us. “Who’s going first?”

“Thomas started it!” Alan shouted, quickly jabbing a finger in my face. “He stole my magazine!” Technically true, I did start it. I even waved it in his face once or twice. Still, I think she cared more about the punch that came after.

“I had to get your attention somehow,” I said through a mess of tissues. My nose was still running like a faucet, and my attempt to stop the flow was less than successful. Alan didn’t like my response, though. I didn’t think he could get any redder but he proved me wrong.

“So you did this to intentionally provoke Alan?” Mrs. Nielsen sounded robotic. I think she wanted this done more than I did. She clearly knew the story already, I could tell. She just had to give us the same formalities she gave the other kids. I didn’t really care though. I’d heard this spiel a hundred times before. I just wanted to get it over with.

“Of course I did. Then, he came over and punched me.”

“Yeah! Yeah I punched him! What of it?” Alan’s voice cracked. Despite being a year older than me, you could’ve mistaken him for a thirteen year old, save for the patch of peach fuzz below his chin.

“You still deserved it.”

“I swear when I find your brother-”
“Don’t you ever talk about my brother!”

“Enough!” Mrs. Nielsen threw up her hands, and we both went silent. This was the first time she’d raised her voice. I was surprised it didn’t happen sooner. She shut her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, gesturing with her other hand. “Alan, just go back to your room and cool off. I’ve had enough of you for the day. Thomas, you’re staying here. This has gone far enough, I think.” I assumed Alan would fight her on it, maybe throw something or start yelling again. Turns out he knew restraint. He had this dumbfounded look on his face, but he quietly made his way to the door. He did make sure to slam it though.

Mrs. Nielsen sat back in her chair. I had long checked out at this point, and had started inspecting the generic posters lining office walls. There was one in particular above a filing cabinet in the corner. It was a picture of a kitten holding onto a rope with the words “hang in there” across the top. I felt like the kitten. “Why do you do this to yourself, Mr. Cartwright?”

I focused on her again. She was leaning over the desk, fingers clasped, looking at me over the rim of her glasses. I didn’t want to say anything. I just sat there for a moment, blinking into space. When she didn’t get a response, she reached into the desk drawer, pulling out a manila folder marked with my initials. She opened it and began reading aloud, “It looks like this is your third altercation, all with different boys, and you’ve only been in our care for one month.”

“He was stealing food from Sam,” I’d decided this would go quicker if I just said my piece and moved on. “He wouldn’t stop doing it, and I thought it was justified.”

“So why not come to us first,” she asked, “why put yourself through this?”

“You wouldn’t have done anything. He just would’ve done it again.”

She sighed, but her tone hadn’t changed. “I want you to know that we’re here to help you, Thomas. We are not the villains here. Your brother seems to understand that, it says here that his record is perfectly clean. So why do you still fight us like this?”

“Sam’s just a kid.”

I saw her face drop, “So are you, Mr. Cartwright. Here’s a word of advice: if you think you’re such an adult, then start acting like it.” She let that statement linger for a minute, and the room never seemed so quiet. I wanted to leave.

“Can I go now?”

“If you keep going down this road, I’m afraid of where you’ll end up. You have a long life ahead of you, kid. I’d hate to see you waste it like this,” She then waved her hand, “now go to your room. Between you and me, there’s no real point in giving you some kind of punishment. It says here you’re leaving tomorrow, anyways.”

That caught my attention. “I am?”

She looked befuddled, “Yes, you’ve been reminded of this for at least a week now. You and your brother are being transferred tomorrow morning.”

“Oh. Must’ve slipped my mind.” Being transferred so often, I had stopped keeping track of when they actually happened. Bad habit, I guess. With that, I made my way to the door without a goodbye, shutting it behind me with a long, deep breath.

I wasn’t sure why I was still angry. I got what I wanted, kind of. Maybe it was the bruises, or the fact that Alan got away with just a slap on the wrist. I didn’t feel like dwelling on it. At that moment, I felt like crawling into bed and never crawling out. That was how I always felt on days like this. I was sick of drifting from home to home without a purpose. For the longest time, I just wanted to turn eighteen and leave these places behind forever. But, then there was Sam to worry about.

I opened the door to our room and walked over to my bunk. Thankfully, none of the other kids were in the room at the time. Where they were, I didn’t particularly care, since I didn’t feel like talking to anyone else at the moment. I climbed onto the bottom bunk and wrapped myself in the covers. There was sunlight streaming in through the window overhead, and I could hear just about everything outside. Kids yelling, birds chirping, cars on the road. It all felt a little too loud. I shut my eyes tight and quietly hoped everything would go away.

Then, not thirty seconds later, I felt something move underneath the bed, and I was attacked. I let my guard down and I suffered the consequences. Two hands slapped down across my body and immediately I began to thrash around under the sheets. The attacker made a high pitched laugh at my escape attempts. Eventually, I was able to throw off the sheets and see my attacker: a smiling six year old brat.

“Jesus, Sam! You scared me to death!” I picked up my pillow and slammed it into his dumb smiling face. Sam just laughed more and punched me repeatedly with his tiny fists. He made a crucial mistake though: not running away when he could. I grabbed him and hauled him onto the bed, attacking him more with the pillow. He begged for me to stop between the laughs, but I pretended not to hear. I only stopped when Sam looked at me confused and asked me something I didn’t like. He asked me, “why is your nose bleeding?”

“Huh?” I touched my nose, and my fingers came back red. Apparently at some point during our scuffle it had started again.  “Oh shit,” I quickly reached over to our bedside table and grabbed some tissues, shoving them onto my face.

“That’s not a nice word,” he said, hiding a smile. He always thought it was funny wherever I swore. Sam was now sitting on the side of the bed, his legs criss-crossed and facing me. 

“Yeah, maybe don’t repeat it to your friends,” I said back. my head still swimming.

“Did you get in another fight?” his voice had changed slightly, he looked up at me with his big eyes and a worried expression. There was no use lying to him about it. He knew me well enough by now.

“Yes, I got into another fight. It was Alan.”

“I told you not to fight him! You said you wouldn’t!” He then tried to punch my legs again, but it didn’t do much.

“I know, I know. But hey? Think of it this way. You don’t have to worry about him for now.”

“Do you promise?” Sam held out his pinky finger, and I let out a long sigh. I couldn’t keep my eyes on Sam every moment of every day. There was no way I could guarantee to him that Alan wouldn’t try something just to spite me. 

“I promise,” I held out my own and we locked pinkies. To Sam, that was enough for him to smile again. “Hey, can you do me a favor?”

I saw his eyes light up, “of course!”

“Go have fun somewhere, I just need to sleep for a while.”

“Okay. Bye!” With that, he scurried off the bed and out the door. I fell back onto the bed, feeling exhausted. Sam would be fine, I told myself. Alan wasn’t going to bother him, nobody would, not today at least. Everything would be fine, I told myself. I just needed some rest, that’s all. I shut my eyes and was met with sleep. Everything wasn’t fine, not in my dreams.

“Tommy!” I only woke up again when Sam started shouting my name. My body felt sore and wrong as I begrudgingly sat up in bed. I rubbed my face, and looked out the window. It was difficult to tell, but it looked a lot lighter outside. I had slept until the next morning, apparently.

“I’m up, what’s happening?” I touched my eye, and it still stung from the previous day.

“We’re leaving today!” He was jumping up and down now, throwing his fists in the air. Upon hearing those words, any energy or motivation to leave my bed left me. I fell back onto my pillow and groaned. We were getting a new foster family. Again. For the fifth time.

 “Come on! Come on!” Sam reached under the blanket and grabbed my wrist.

“Can you not?” I pleaded.

“No.”

“Fine.” I was reluctantly dragged from my bed and I put on clothes that weren’t stained with dry blood or sweat. I brushed my teeth, washed my face, and eventually gave into Sam’s constant cries to hurry up. He’d waited a long time for this, the very least I could do was not make him wait any longer. He ran out of the room and I followed him all the way to the front office. Sam wasn’t old enough at the time to remember our first foster family, nor the second, not very well at least. My only job was not to ruin this for him. I could try.

There were two people in that office. Mrs. Nielsen was behind the desk again, going through her file cabinets, gathering papers and folders. She seemed to be doing ten things at once, in complete contrast to the man sitting calmly across from her. The man turned in his undersized chair to face me with a warm smile.. That was when I remembered exactly what was going on today, and I groaned. “You gotta be kidding me.”

“How are you doing today, my children?” The man’s voice was soft, kind even.

“We aren’t your children.” Mrs. Nielsen glared at me from behind her desk, but I wasn’t in the mood. Father Tobias, our town’s resident priest and leader of the Wakefield Lutheran Congregation for Christ, had decided he wanted to try his hand at fostering children. I had only spoken to the man the previous week, and never really paid attention to what he said. Sam gave enough for the both of us. This was a long time in the making and I had given the bare minimum in return, I guess that’s on me. Still, even though I didn’t know him, I wanted nothing to do with him. It didn’t help that, like almost everybody in this town, Mrs. Nielsen seemed totally smitten with him.

“Thomas, we don’t need your rude remarks. Father Tobias has been nothing but kind in all the years I’ve known him. All of his information checks out, there’s nothing to worry over.” Mrs. Nielsen was using her instructional voice now.

The priest opened his arms wide, and I could get a better look at him now. He was a tall and lanky man who looked to be in his early-fifties, with salt and pepper hair and a graying beard. He was dressed in his full clerical attire, as though he was about to walk right out of the room and straight to his sermon. Why he was being so formal was beyond me. “Come here, boy,” he said, and I felt Sam let go of my hand.

“Dad!” He yelled, and ran right into the Father’s open arms. Mrs. Nielsen smiled at the sight, but her face dropped when she looked over at me. I felt my fist clench. Tobias looked up at me, as though he was offering the same, and when I refused he looked a little hurt by it. He let go of Sam who moved between us. “What now?” he said, so eager to leave this place. I should’ve been just as excited. Instead, I just felt numb.

“Pretty much everything is where it should be as of now,” She organized a stack of papers on her desk and slipped them into a manila folder. “All we need from you two is your signatures. I already have his.” She slid a separate yellow paper and a pen across the table. I saw Sam’s eyes lock onto it.

“Wait, Sam, hold on a minute-” before I could even finish my sentence he had already stood on the other plastic chair and had made a poorly scribbled signature. He then turned around and gave me a wide grin, holding the pen out towards me. I strained to give a smile that didn’t look fake, but probably failed. I dragged my feet to the desk and took the pen from Sam, signing my name with a sigh. This was going to be a long day.

After about an hour of talking and discussion I couldn’t care less about, Sam and I were walked out to Father Tobias’s car, an ordinary black sedan. We didn’t have much to bring aside from our clothes, which were loaded into the trunk. Sam was insistent that he bring his Walkman with him in the car. It was gifted to me by a previous family on Christmas a few years back, but I found that Sam got more use out of it. Once we were inside and the doors were locked, it hit me that this was really happening. Those first few minutes on the road were surreal. I watched the group home disappear through the window. Never in a million years did I expect to actually miss that place. Tobias had tuned the radio to a gospel station. I looked over to Sam and he was kicking his feet, listening to his music with his oversized headphones in. I was never one to get carsick, but at that moment I really wanted to vomit.

“So, Thomas,” Father Tobias was the first to break the silence, “I understand that this isn’t the situation you wanted, but I can assure you that I will try to be the best parent I can be to you and Samuel while you are in my care.”

“Uh huh.” I didn’t feel like talking, I just kept staring out the window. Wakefield was a pretty sleepy town, all things considered. Like with most of the towns me and Sam ended up in, I didn’t try to get too attached to it. We’d just get transferred to another within a few months. However, from the street signs, I could tell we were heading toward the city limits. The suburban, smalltown homes were beginning to give way to fields and eventually to tall trees on either side of the car. Where was this guy’s house, I wondered. “Hey, how far away are we?”

“Oh, it shouldn’t be much longer, maybe about half an hour. It’s an older place but it’s home.” I couldn’t stand the tone in his voice. He was acting as though this was a regular drive, like we’d known each other for years. I thought if I ignored him he’d stop talking, but Sam had other plans.

“Do we have a mommy?”

I could see Father Tobias choke, stifling a laugh beneath his hand. Clearly, he didn’t expect the question. He looked into the backseat at Sam for a moment, amused, before turning back to the road. “Oh yes, you’ll meet Miranda eventually, Samuel. She’s a wonderful woman, the best a child could ask for. However I’m afraid she’s very sick at the moment. Once she’s better, you’ll be able to meet her. I can hardly wait.”

I didn’t know what that meant, but I didn’t want to let it go either. “Aren’t priests not supposed to have wives? Isn’t that like, a sin?”

“Well, to put it bluntly, it was love at first sight. We were simply infatuated with one another. God saw fit for me to receive such a beautiful woman, how could I refuse? He has a plan for everybody, after all.”

For the second time in that car, I felt like throwing up. I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to ask him the question that had been on my mind the entire morning. “Why us?”

 “What do you mean?”

I leaned forward in my seat. He knew what I meant, and I was tired of him pretending he  didn’t. “Why us specifically? What made us so appealing to you that you just had to go for us and not some other kid?”

In hindsight, I’m not sure what I was expecting. I think, at the time, I expected him to hide something from us. I thought he’d try and come up with a whole list of reasons for why he picked us, like how he felt bad, or how he wanted to show us the righteous path or something. Instead, Tobias went quiet, and I could see him contemplating in the reflection of the rearview mirror. “It wasn’t you two that convinced us to foster, it was us. I didn’t want to discuss this with you so soon, but I believe you deserve to know.” His tone was slow, deliberate, and I realized that I had no clue where he was going with this. Then the other shoe dropped.

“We decided to foster after losing our daughter.”

I didn’t hear the rest. The statement hit me like an adrenaline shot. Suddenly, my stomach had turned over on itself and my breathing changed. I gripped the seat beneath me a little harder, closing my eyes. Apparently, Tobias had noticed my reaction. Was it really that obvious? “Is everything alright, Thomas?”

The priest’s words fell on deaf ears. I wasn’t focused on that. Instead, I kept gripping the seat tighter and tighter. I was told in the past that counting helped when these attacks came over me, so I tried that. When I hit eight, I felt a hand clasp mine. I opened my eyes to see it was Sam’s. He had that same goofy grin. When I saw that, I felt my breathing slow and return to normal, and he continued to squeeze my hand. He always knew how to calm me down. Eventually, I let go of the seat. “Thanks. You can put the headphones back on now.”

“Okay!” Just like that, he went back to his Walkman, little legs kicking in time with the music. Tobias wasn’t as relaxed.

“I’m sorry if I said anything wrong, my son. I didn’t mean to hit a nerve like that. Maybe I shouldn’t have discussed such matters so suddenly.”

“No, no it’s fine, I’m fine now,” my voice sounded a little shaky.

The priest was still tense, and he let out a long sigh. I thought I saw something in him I didn’t expect to see: sincerity. It was his face, I think. There was no smile, no attempt to play it off. The man kept tapping his fingers on the wheel, anxiously.  I saw guilt in him. The whole time I’d been in that car, I thought we were just props to him. Something to hold up and say he was a good person. Maybe, I had jumped to conclusions. Maybe.

“Wow, look!” I looked over and saw Sam pressing his face up against the glass of his window. Curious, I leaned over to see what he was looking at. That was when the house came into view.

“We can discuss this later. For now, I want you boys to get settled in. Welcome home, sons.”

I didn’t get a full view of the building until Father Tobias had parked at the end of a long, unpaved driveway. Sam sprang from the car immediately, but I took my time. The house was unlike any of the others we’d stayed in before. It was an old building, probably left over from the civil war. Large white columns held up an expansive porch. The shape of the building itself was a tall, harsh rectangle, identical windows running down the front with dual chimneys sticking out of the shingled roof like birthday candles. I could tell that at one point, it was painted white, but the paint had long since faded into a dull gray. The foster shelter didn’t seem so bad anymore.

“Well, go on then,” Father Tobias stepped out of the car. “I’ll grab your things. I want you two to have a look around.”

“This is your house? It looks ancient.”

“This house has been in my family for a few generations now. Don’t worry, it has all the modern fixings a young boy could ask for.”

 Despite his words, I couldn’t go into that house alone. With each step further it seemed to loom over me. There was nothing surrounding it I realized, we were parked in the middle of a wide open clearing surrounded by forest. The only road out of the field was the one we came in on. I felt exposed, my only conceivable cover being the dark house before me. A morbid thought came across my mind: if I ran, there’d be nowhere to hide.

I was torn from my thoughts when I heard Sam yelling. Immediately, I turned to check on him, but I saw he was just running around in the field. As I regained a sense of normalcy, I called him over and we walked up to the house together. Like he said he would, Father Tobias had taken our bags up to the door, and was now waiting patiently for us to climb the creaking steps toward him. He smiled at our approach, and after fiddling with his enormous keyring, he jammed a key into the lock and swung the door open for us. “Go on in, I’ll be right behind you.” His smile was wide, and I noticed his teeth were a bit too white. I didn’t like that.

Sam, the ever so fearless leader, went right inside, and I followed. There were a few things I noticed immediately upon entering the foyer. On the left side of the room, there was an ancient grandfather clock, the pendulum swinging side to side quietly. The next thing I saw was the large wooden staircase behind it leading to a second floor,  which my eyes followed up to a dusty chandelier mounted to a high ceiling. The first floor had three doors, one to my right and two more directly in front of me, under the landing for the second floor stairs.

“Well, while I’m being such a gracious host, I suppose I should show you two to your room.” Father Tobias made for the stairs, and Sam insisted that he go first, running up the stairs at full speed. As we made our way up the stairs, I noticed the pictures hanging on the wall. They were all arranged in various positions up and down the wall, but three in particular stood out to me. The first was a young man, in their 20s from what I could tell, wearing black garments and posing in front of a church. The second was the same man, slightly older, standing with a woman in front of an altar surrounded by flowers. It was a wedding. The third photo I saw once we reached the top of the stairs, and I paused to examine this one longer than the others.

It stood out to me since Tobias wasn’t in this one. No, instead it was a young girl, smiling into the camera, showing off their braces. It looked like a school yearbook photo. She couldn’t have been any older than nine. I noticed a name written on the picture frame in marker: Judith, 3rd grade, 1976.

“Tommy! Are you coming?” I heard Sam calling me from down the hallway.

“Yeah, just a second.” I looked away from the photograph and walked further into the house. I felt weird staring at a photo of somebody I knew was dead.

The house seemed to stretch as I walked further into it. High ceilings, wide hallways, everything seemed a little too big. Tobias was waiting outside the door to a room, hands clasped together and limp in front of him,  and I could hear the sound of Sam’s rampant footsteps inside from down the hallway.

Our room was significantly larger than the one in the foster shelter, bigger than any of the others we’d been given too. Sam was elated, running around as though to test if the space was real or not. On one side of the room there were two large beds set side by side from one another, our bags placed on top. I will admit it was nice having beds that weren’t tiny and stacked on top of each other. On the other side, there was a set of tall windows facing the field behind the house. Light poured in, making the single lightbulb swaying from the ceiling functionally useless for the time being The only other thing of interest in the room was a wide closet. The room was barren otherwise. No decorations, no other furniture.

“It’s not much at the moment, but we can always add more.” I turned to see Tobias standing in the doorway, arms crossed, “This used to be a separate room entirely until we moved everything out of it.”

“I love it!” Sam ran over and collapsed onto the bed, spreading his body out as far as he could. Clearly, he’d already claimed that bed for himself. While it was nice having a regular bed again, and an actual closet instead of a box, the room felt off somehow. The whole house had this feeling of emptiness that I couldn’t place, but I shook the feeling. The house was getting to me, and I wouldn’t let that happen.

I asked the priest, “So, what do we do now?”

“Whatever you boys want.”

Sam piped up again, “can we get ice cream?” For whatever reason, that had always been his favorite treat.

“Of course we can. We should celebrate, after all.” As much as I disliked the day’s events so far, I wasn’t going to say no to ice cream. The next few hours were a blur. I think Tobias really wanted to humor Sam, make himself out to be a good dad. We were out for most of the day, visiting various shops in town. Even when asked, I refused anything from the stores. I didn’t want or need anything, really. I could take care of myself, and I wished the priest would acknowledge that. Still, I’d be lying if I said the day was a total loss. It was the happiest I’d seen Sam in a long time.

By the time we returned to the house, it was late in the evening. Tobias gave us free reign of the house while he prepared dinner, but we mostly stayed in our room. Both of us were exhausted. As Sam played on the floor with the action figure he’d received earlier that day, I was sitting on my bed. For the most part, it was quiet in that room, and that allowed me to think.  I was staring out the window, watching the shadows lengthen as the sun began to set. The sky was a blazing orange, tinting the grass in the field behind the house. There was a question that had been gnawing away at me the past couple hours, so I asked Sam.

“Hey, what do you think of Father Tobias so far?”

Sam looked up at me from his spot on the floor, “I think he’s great,” he said as if it was obvious.

“Do you think he’s trying a little too hard? Like, what if he’s just doing this to get on our good sides?”

“Like a trap?” He held up the Skeletor action figure in his hand.

I sighed. Hearing my own thoughts parroted back at me made me realize how stupid this all sounded, “yeah, like a trap I guess.” I let the silence hang in the air for a moment. He looked at me with that dopey face as I tried to think of how to phrase my question. “Do you want to stay here?”

I don’t think Sam really picked up on what I was suggesting, and in a way I was glad he didn’t. He placed a fist under his chin, as though really trying to emphasize he was thinking. “Well, it’s only the first day. Tomorrow might be different, but today was great.”

I ran a hand through my hair and chuckled to myself. “Yeah, I think you’re right. Maybe I should give it some more time.” Even with his creepy house, and his constant niceties, the priest had only ever been kind to us so far. I thought to myself how I should let things go, and how maybe this wasn’t the worst thing for me and Sam. It was just day one. I’d get used to it, I told myself. Maybe.

“Boys! Dinner is ready!” We both heard the priest calling from the bottom of the stairs, his voice echoing throughout the house.

“Race you down the stairs?”

I saw Sam’s eyes narrow at me, “I’m going to win.”

“In your dreams.” For the record, I let him win.

The dining room, like a lot of the house, was extensive. Definitely better decorated than our room was. There was a long, rectangular table in the center, with about ten leather chairs surrounding it. Behind the table were two large glass cabinets with vintage china sets inside. Next to those was a door leading to the clearing outside, and an open doorway on the other side of the room which led to the kitchen. Tobias was sitting at the head of the table, a lit fireplace behind him. He’d already set out two plates for us, right next to him of course. Apparently, pasta was on the menu.

Dinner was awkward. After prayer, I didn’t feel like talking again, and as per usual Sam talked for the both of us. The sun had set, changing every window the color of night. With the ceiling light so dim (Tobias said he forgot to change the bulb) most of the light in the room was from the fireplace. At some point, while I was staring at the table, the priest decided to make me talk. “Thomas, you’ve barely touched your food.”

I looked up, “Huh? Oh, I’m not hungry tonight.”

“Can I eat yours?” Tobias and I looked across the table and Sam had already emptied his plate. The priest nodded, and I slowly slid my plate across to him, the ceramic making a loud scraping noise as it went. The two of us were mute as Sam continued to eat. Unlike that morning in the car, the silence felt more uncomfortable than relieving. We sat like that for a long time while Sam finished my plate. With pasta sauce on his face, he asked Tobias, “Can I go play?”

The priest smiled, “Of course you can. Go wash up first.”

Sam pushed his chair back and took off towards the kitchen, probably back to our room if I had to guess. I wanted to join him, but as I pushed myself away from the table, Tobias spoke. “Could I talk to you, Thomas? It should only take a moment.” I winced, and begrudgingly pushed my chair back in. I should’ve seen this coming.

“I think we got off on the wrong foot, Thomas.” Father Tobias started, “and I once again apologize for what I said in the car.”

“I said it’s fine,” I didn’t feel like looking him in the eye, so I kept staring at the hardwood table. I wasn’t sure how long this would last.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I just don’t like it, okay?” I was done hiding my tone, “I don’t like hearing about death. I don’t want to think about it.”

My hands were balled up on the table, and I could see them shaking a little. Tobias reached out and tried to place his hand on mine, but I pulled back. He held up the hand and sat back again, thinking of what to say.

“I understand you feel uncomfortable,my son. We may not know each other very well, but I want to offer you a helping hand here. If you tell me what’s eating at you, I promise to listen in return.”

“Fine.” This wasn’t the first time I had relayed this story to an adult, especially a foster parent. At the same time, telling it never got any easier for me. If it made this go faster though, then maybe it’d be worth it. I took a moment to steel myself before I continued. No turning back now.

“I had a twin.”

To my surprise, Tobias’s face didn’t react. Instead, he leaned forward, motioning with his hand as though to encourage me to keep going. I breathed in, then out, counting to three before continuing.

“Before Sam was born, I had a different brother: Andrew. We didn’t have the best childhood.” I started scratching my arm, unconsciously. “We didn’t have a dad, and Mom wasn’t around much. She was working three jobs at the time, and when she was home she was usually exhausted. We didn’t have a lot of food, either. One day, I woke up and he was just-” I shut my eyes again. When I opened them, Tobias was holding up a hand. His face was darkened, the fireplace behind him casting flickering shadows on the walls.

I breathed again and continued, making a fist as I did. That did make me feel better, just not by much. “After that, Sam was born and she just… gave up. She dropped us off and never came back.” I felt myself begin to deflate. It wasn’t sadness, and it wasn’t anger. I wasn’t crying. Rather, it was this feeling of exhaustion, like a pit of numbness had opened up inside, and it began to swallow me.

Tobias was quiet for a moment, and when he started again he sounded different. “Our experiences may be different, but we suffer the same pain. When Miranda and I lost Judith, we felt as though we’d been abandoned by the Lord. It was our own crisis of faith, and day after day we questioned: why would God let this happen to us? Why would He take our baby away? But, as time moved forward, we found that way to cope with our loss. Our faith emerged on the other side stronger than ever, and now we want to give new children a chance at finding faith.”

Even though I didn’t fully understand what he was talking about, I appreciated how he was trying. I was just too tired to show it.

“It’s okay, Thomas,” the priest spoke, rising from his chair. He was just a silhouette, but he sounded calm, composed. He approached, arms outstretched, and I didn’t feel like fighting him on it anymore. I accepted the hug, and I felt okay. “I believe that God has a plan for us all, and sometimes those plans put us through the most trying of times. We all were put on this earth to serve a purpose. I know mine after all.”

I closed my eyes again, but not to escape this time. Even though I didn’t want to admit it, I wanted to savor that moment. It felt like I really was at home, and I hadn’t had that feeling in a long time. Then, he said something else, and it was like the illusion had shattered.

“There’s a special place in Hell for those who hurt their children.”

My eyes opened. Something felt off. It was like the air in the room had suddenly become heavier. I slowly began to withdraw, and he let go without protest. I asked him, “What did you say?”

The man’s demeanor had changed. His silhouette didn’t seem so comforting anymore, more imposing. His face was still obscured, but now I couldn’t tell what face he was making. I think it was the way he said it, there was this venom in his words I hadn’t heard from him all day.

“Hurting a child is one of the worst things one can do on this Earth, wouldn’t you agree? It’s said in The Bible that we must treat our children with care. Those who stray from that path are therefore doomed.” He moved away from me, positioning himself over the chair, leaning over it while resting his arms on the back. Tobias was still looking at me, and somehow not being able to see his eyes made it worse. “There are a lot of people like that, son. People who make others suffer.”

“Um, yeah. Lots of people.” I took a step backwards. There was this creeping dread building within me. Why was I afraid to excuse myself? He wasn’t going to hurt me.

“There are dark things in this world, Thomas. Cruel things. You’d do best to stay away from them, lest you stray from the Lord’s path.” I saw his head shift slightly, and I felt his gaze move to something else. I slowly turned my head to see what had caught his attention, and I noticed something on the wall. Just barely illuminated by the firelight, I could make out the shape of a wooden cross on the far wall. It was small, but it was there. How had I not noticed it before?

I looked back at the priest, who was still staring at the wall. There was no noise in the room except for the crackling of the fire. With courage, I spoke up, “Hey, it’s getting late and we’ve had a long day. I’m going to go up to my room now.”

“That’s just fine, my boy. Don’t let me keep you from a night’s rest. We have service tomorrow, you’ll need your sleep. I’m glad we had this talk.” The priest looked at me again, and the malice seemed to melt away in an instant. It was uncanny, like a mask I didn’t know was there had slipped.

“Thanks,” I said as I backed out of the room. I only turned my back once I was out of sight. That feeling stayed with me as I navigated the dark halls of the house. I had never seen that side of Tobias before. I didn’t like what I saw. The whole day he seemed perfectly normal, only to switch on me in the last few hours of the day. It just didn’t feel right. The shadows in the house didn’t help. Once I made it back to the room, I closed the door behind me and let out a sigh of relief.

“Tommy?” Once I turned around, I saw a child sized lump of sheets in the middle of Sam’s bed, a vague light coming from underneath. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. Everything is fine. Go to sleep, Sam.” I didn’t think my tone was very convincing, but he bought it anyway.

“Okay, I’m sleepy.” And with that, the light went out, and the lump fell over. Sam was out cold in twenty minutes. He’d always slept like a rock. I, on the other hand, couldn’t fall asleep, nor did I want to. Every creak and groan from the old house was uncomfortably loud.  I was still stuck on that earlier conversation. Maybe I was just tired, but sitting in the dark, alone with my thoughts, I kept replaying it over and over again in my mind. I couldn’t shake it. Part of me just wanted to pass out, skip to the next day, and start over. But, I just couldn’t. I waited for a long time in the dark. I didn’t have a watch, or a clock, so I just waited for as long as I could. Once I was sure I was the only one awake, I quietly approached the door to our room, turned the knob, and slipped into the hallway.

I wasn’t running away. I’d never leave Sam behind like that. But, maybe I could scout out the house. Just in case, I thought. The moon had finally emerged from behind the clouds, bathing the halls in a pale light, just enough to see where I was going. I had done this before in other foster houses with no issues. Being awake at night has always felt freeing to me. Nobody around, nobody to judge me, and I could do whatever I felt like. I had even snuck out a few times. It was fun. That night was different.

I had a list of things I wanted to check. I started out with the windows. Unfortunately, no dice. I checked the ones on the first floor, since the second was too high up for any escape. All of them were sealed. They weren’t just locked, they were nailed down. I wouldn’t have been able to open them if I tried. As I went throughout the halls, I began to notice something. In every room I went to, there was an identical wooden cross somewhere on a wall. I still had no idea how I hadn’t noticed them in the daylight. But, they were there, everpresent, like they were following me room to room. I just ignored them. The guy was a priest, I thought. Of course he’d have a lot of crosses in his house.

I only started to panic once I reached the front door. I reached out to try the handle, but it wouldn’t open. I tried pushing, pulling, nothing worked. That was strange, I thought. There wasn’t any lock I could turn, either. I’d need a key. Where would I even find that? I went around the dark house, trying every door I could that led to the outside. None of them would budge. I couldn’t think of anything else to try. It was like the whole house was sealed shut. I should’ve felt safe, but I didn’t. I felt cornered. I sighed, and eventually gave up.

 When I was halfway up the stairs, something broke the ambience of the house. It was the sound of running water. My eyes widened in horror. Father Tobias was awake. He might’ve been awake the whole time. How had I not noticed him? How had he not noticed me? The sink shut off, and from my place on the stairs I could hear him in the kitchen. He was saying words, I just couldn’t make out what those words were. It didn’t sound like English, though. Something else. While he was talking, I took another step on the stairs, and it creaked. I grimaced, it sounded so horribly loud. I didn’t know if he heard it. I couldn’t see into the kitchen from the stairs, but I could still hear him talking to himself. I slowly moved my way up. Every little sound made my heart skip. It must’ve taken me five minutes to reach the top, but our room was so far away. If I could get there, I’d feel safe again.

Then, the talking stopped, and the footsteps began. Slow, heavy footfalls coming from the first floor. I kept creeping my way towards our room, but when the sound of the footsteps changed, I realized he had reached the bottom step. I wasn’t going to make it unless I ran, and in fear I had already ruled that out as an option. I began to panic again, and without thinking I stepped into the first door I saw. I didn’t know what room it was at first. There was a large bed across from a lit fireplace, this one slightly smaller than the one downstairs. There was a nice rug on the floor, and the walls were lined with different bookshelves, broken up by a big desk lined with various papers and a typewriter. A separate standing bookshelf sat next to the bed. I looked above the bed, and noticed another one of those wooden crosses, only larger, more pronounced. That was when it hit me. This was the priest’s room.

I had picked the worst place to hide. I could hear him coming down the hallway now, the footsteps growing louder and louder. Frantically, I searched for another hiding place inside the room. I couldn’t just walk out the door, I’d be spotted immediately. In my panic, I noticed an armoire sitting in the corner on the other side of the room, slightly ajar. I bolted to it. There was no time to spare. I slid the door to the side and climbed in. I tried to shut it, but it wouldn’t close all the way. There was a sock on the floor of the armoire that kept it from closing all the way. Then, I heard the door open. I was out of time. The priest was here.

Through the crack, I could see him moving around the room. He looked tired, really tired, and he was still muttering in a language I now knew for sure wasn’t english. He carried himself differently than how I saw him earlier. There was no smile on his face, his expression seemed almost bitter. In his arms, he carried a wide bowl of water. It was hard to tell in the dark room, but it looked to be a golden color. He placed it on a nightstand and stood, facing the bookshelf by the bed. I kept thinking to myself, “What is he doing? Why wasn’t he asleep by now?” Then, he did something new.

Father Tobias walked over to the bookshelf, grabbing onto it. With great effort, he started sliding it aside. I thought I was seeing things. This couldn’t be real. It felt like a dream. But no, I was more awake than ever, feeling goosebumps run up my arms. The priest gave a loud groan as he forced the shelf to the side. I didn’t think he’d be able to do it in his condition, but he managed. When he was done, he was breathing heavily. I tried not to shout, cupping a hand over my mouth as I took in what I saw.

Behind the shelf was a door. On the surface, it appeared to be an ordinary wall, except for the small keyhole in the center. But, seeing it gave me this sinking feeling. I wanted to go back to bed, where I’d be safer, but no. I realized I wasn’t going to sleep tonight. The priest walked to the nightstand again and retrieved the bowl of water. Then, he unlocked the door. I noticed it was the same massive keyring he’d used to open the door that morning. The door swung open towards me, and I couldn’t see what was on the other side. However, once he entered, it sounded like he wasn’t just moving into a room, it sounded like he was moving upwards. I heard his footsteps climb a set of stairs I didn’t know existed, and once he got to the top, it got worse. There was the sound of metal clanging on metal, followed by the  loudest creaking noise I’d ever heard. It was like nails on a chalkboard. Just as soon as it started, it was over, and I was left in blissful silence again.

It took me a long time to work up the courage to leave the safety of that armoire. I thought about just sleeping in there, not wanting to risk being caught. My worst fear was that the moment I left, the priest would come back and see me. I didn’t know what he would do if he caught me. The situation was just so surreal. Cautiously, I took a step outside the armoire and onto the rug below. I quietly began to sneak my way to the door of the room. Every instinct I had told me to run. But, as I passed by the new door, I just had to look. I had to see what was so secret that Father Tobias would hide it away from the world. So, I peaked. What I saw shook me to my core.

The door did lead to a staircase. The passage was old and decrepit, the air seemed static, but it was what was at the top of the stairs that really hit me. At the top of the stairs was another door. It was metallic, like the door to a walk-in freezer. The first thing I noticed were the chains. A dozen chains and locks hung limp from the door’s metal frame. That wasn’t all though. The door was also covered in book pages. From where I was, I couldn’t make out what they said, but I could definitely spot the wooden crosses also bolted to the door. A flickering light emanated from beneath. It was a sight ripped from a nightmare.

That door instilled in me a terror that was hard to describe. For a moment, I couldn’t look away, couldn’t scream. I felt transfixed by it. Just the idea of being in the house with it felt horrible. I didn’t even want to think of what was back there, or what the priest was doing. I tore my vision away from the door and ran to the exit. I had to get out of that room. It was the only way I could breathe again.

Once I was outside, I didn’t scream. I didn’t gasp. I was shocked into silence by what I’d seen. Ironically, things seemed clearer to me, then. I didn’t go back to my room immediately. I went downstairs to the kitchen. Father Tobias wouldn’t notice a knife going missing. I had to take the chance. I climbed the stairs again, making sure to avoid the louder steps as I went. I went inside the room, and noticed the door only locked from the outside. With the space so empty, I didn’t have anything to block the door. That was okay, I wasn’t planning on sleeping anyway. Instead, I sat on my bed, wide awake, knife in hand facing the door.

I didn’t know how long I had until the sun rose. My mind was filled with a thousand burning questions, questions I wasn’t sure I wanted the answers to. Those would keep me awake, hopefully. I made a vow to myself. Father Tobias was not what he seemed. I had to find out what he was hiding, and get Sam out of there before he could get hurt. Until then, I would sit and wait for however long it took, and if for whatever reason he decided to come for us, I’d be ready.