Part 2
[June 1933]
Tom found himself stumbling back towards the very same park bench where he had met the tall man the very next day, at 5:30 am in the morning. He desperately hoped that the man would be there again.
So he continued onward.
After he had told the tall man his name, he had immediately turned tail and ran straight back towards the house.
He had been unsure why his face had felt extremely warm. He was trying his very best not to look back towards the man. He had to be strong, just like the tall man.
Tom was still very confused with his meeting with the mysterious man. It was like nothing he had ever experienced before. And Tom wasn't sure on how exactly he felt about it.
As he ran and ran, he wondered if this was a dream. That would explain the strange situation that he was just in. Yet he almost certainly didn't hope that it was. The encounter with the tall man was very special. He wasn't at all like the other adults in his life.
Tom was becoming increasingly aware that the sky was getting brighter and brighter by the second. His heart palpitated wildly as he ran. He could see the top of the building just over yonder now.
He dashed madly, praying that he would make it in time.
Tom tripped and fell hard onto the concrete road. But it didn't deter him. He just quickly scrambled back up and went on running, blatantly ignoring the stabbing pain in his knees and chest in view of the one he would definitely receive if he didn't make it back soon.
He came to a sudden halt in front of the front door to the Master’s home. He contemplated on whether he should risk using it or waste time using the small one out back. Tom hesitated just for a split second before making off for the backyard.
He expertly undid the locks and slowly opened the back door. Thankfully he had just oiled it the previous day, so it didn't let out a sound. He carefully tiptoed in and gingerly shut the door behind him.
Tom crept into the kitchen, eyes darting around for any signs of life. There were no lights presently on, from what he could see.
He groped around for a moment, but it didn't take long before his eyes adjusted to the darkness. Thankfully the kitchen was not a difficult place to navigate. Just then, he heard a creak emanate from beneath his feet.
Tom froze.
He quickly glanced around and watched the hallway leading up the stairs in trepidation, alert for anything to indicate someone approaching. A few seconds passed. Nothing happened. He let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding and sighed to himself in relief.
Ok, be more careful me, Tom berated himself. He was nearly sure that his little slip up had cost him a week in the room.
Tom warily continued onward to his destination. He slowly made his way through the kitchen and into the living room. He cautiously peeked around the corner into the area. The lights were off.
That’s strange, Tom absentmindedly thought. The master should be in the wide room watching telly by now.
Nonetheless, he continued forward. He tiptoed carefully across the floorboards, trying his best not to make a sound.
Still no movement from what he could see.
Very soon he was across the room and by the entrance into a hallway.
Again, no one seemed to be around at all.
By now Tom was clearly aware of how suspicious this was. He could see distinctly through a window that it was bright as day outside. The master was surely awake.
At this thought, Tom hurried to reach the room. He crept as quickly and stealthily as he could toward a small hatch and came to a halt as he found it open. Tom stilled.
Has he found out?
He swiftly ducked into the room, shutting the hatch behind him. Tom’s wide blue eyes roamed desperately around the claustrophobia inducing room. After a few tense moments Tom was given the slightest ease as he made sure that no one was hiding there waiting for him.
But the master still knows that I was not here. Tom subconsciously reminded himself and instantly any ease he had felt dissipated.
Just then, he heard heavy footsteps arriving down the hallway. His ears quirked at the familiar sound of the flip of a light switch and light seeped through the gaps in between the hatch.
Tom’s breathing quickened and his muscles tensed. He huddled on the tattered mattress on the floor and hugged himself tight as he listened to the rhythmic steps approaching.
Closer... closer... and they stopped. Right in front of the hatch.
Tom tried his best to keep his breaths shallow and silent. He was somewhat successful, allowing his breathing to pass as air shifting around the room.
He squeezed his eyes shut and braced himself for the impact. And sure enough—— BANG—— the hatch burst open. He tensed and waited for the sharp pain. But nothing came.
Tom chanced a peek through his eyelid. He trembled as a domineering shadow was casted over him. Cold blue eyes glared down at him in disgust and undisguised rage.
“Boy,” the master addressed him, “I wonder if you’ve noticed anything that was… different this morning,” he asked in a low, menacing tone. One could describe it as strangely calm, for how furious he appeared to be.
Tom didn’t know what he should do. His heart was racing and thousands of thoughts were flying through his mind. Should he answer? Or should he not? Should he tell the truth, or should just keep silent?
It seemed that it didn’t matter either way. He had been quiet for far too long, at least by the master’s standards. Tom heard a loud crack of leather striking the floorboards. His eyes widened and he stared fearfully at the ground.
“I wonder why your feet are covered in dirt, boy,” the master stated the rhetorical question, drawing out every syllable. Tom tightened his clasped hands in fear. He had forgotten to clean off the dirt from his feet! Oh if he wasn't already, the master was definitely onto him now.
“Well, I believe you do know the answer to that question, don't you,” the master continued. Tom could see the tip of a leather strap enter into his field of vision.
Tom started sweating and fixated his wide eyes on the floor beneath him, terrified of what could happen if he showed even the slightest sign of defiance.
“Look at me when I'm talking!” The master barked out and swung the belt. Tom flinched as the hard, rough surface contacted with the hard floor directly next to him with a deafening crack. He quickly tilted his face upward, eyes still not looking directly into the master's, stopping at the master's broad chest.
This was one of the things that the master was extremely particular about. To never, ever look into his eyes no matter how much his command might sound like it. Tom had made the mistake of doing so once a long, long time ago, and he had suffered the consequences.
He still had the scars to remind himself of that rule till this day. Though that was never needed. The memory stuck quite well to his mind.
It didn't make much sense to him in the past, but now the reasoning was quite clear. Freaks aren't allowed such privileges after all.
Ah, wait, the tall man said I wasn’t allowed to use that word, Tom quickly reminded himself. It wasn’t in the forefront of his mind at that moment, but a small part of himself wondered why he thought of the man’s words at that time.
“OI!” A loud call abruptly startled Tom back into the moment. His brain quickly processed what had just happened, and he paled at the prospect of what he had just done. His eyes were almost comically wide, but for a much more serious reason.
Oh great Emmanuel he had just spaced out when the master was talking! What was the master going to do to him now? Tom had actively begun trembling at the very thought.
Tom instantly began a stream of apologies, panicked beyond belief.
“Please, sir, I'm sorry, very sorry! I, I won't do it a-again, sir, please, sir, I didn't mean t-to sir, you have to believe me! P-please, sir, I is sorry sir! I'm very, very sorry! I —”
Tom was jerked into an abrupt silence, once he felt himself being yanked upwards.
The master had roughly grabbed Tom by the arm and dragged him out of the small room. Tom made sure to show full subservience. He did not, at all, want to aggravate the master even further. He just made himself limp and silently went with the master.
A million thoughts were flying through Tom’s mind. He was walking —– or being dragged, to be more precise —– towards certain doom now. Many were fleeting thoughts of what the master was to do to him, as image after image of possible scenes filled his head.
Can I escape… wait, what?
That singular stray thought shocked Tom with the sheer absurdity of it.
He had nearly halted in his tracks, but he consciously forced himself to keep following the master. Who knows what would happen if he just suddenly stopped while the master was this upset.
Nonetheless, Tom was appalled at the very prospect of the idea. How could he even think about going against the master. He had no right to do that, surely not! He was but a lowly kid who follows the master's bidding. He simply just should not be thinking like that!
Plus, the master had always said that Tom should be grateful to even be alive. And Tom had to agree with the master. Without him, Tom had no hope of living, let alone surviving. He had to follow the master, lest he be left to die out in the world.
Yet, despite all these reasons, Tom held on to the strange thought.
It was certainly one that had never crossed his mind before. Perhaps that was why he felt the strong need not to let go of it. Perhaps, just maybe, there was one small part of him that wanted to think his own thoughts for once.
The more he thought about it, the more appealing the idea seemed. It was odd for sure, but was it so out there? Who knew, maybe he could live out there on his own! Maybe the master might help him —
All of a sudden, there was a rough jerk at his arm, and Tom felt himself get flung across the room. There was a moment of him falling, and then —–– CRASH —–– he collided straight into the living room table.
Pain exploded through his chest upon contact, flooding his nervous system with the feeling he was so familiar with. Yet Tom couldn't stop himself from letting out a small cry upon the impact.
His chest throbbed as he lay on the floor, twitching as he felt the stabbing pain again and again.
Tom felt as though he was dying from the pain. But little did he know, the worst was yet to come. He soon realized this when he heard a growl, not unlike a rabid dog, coming from a few feet away.
He stilled.
Tom didn't dare take a peek now, and he didn't have to.
“You dare to make a sound with how you've behaved today? You undisciplined imbecile!?” The master roared near the end, spit flying all over Tom.
He could barely register the master's words, not with the high pitched ringing in his ear, but instinctively knew that he had definitely done the wrong thing. The master sounded mad, as in mad mad, and that could not be a good thing.
He braced himself and —— CRACK —— the hard leather contacted his bare skin. He winced in pain, but was careful not to let out a noise. He couldn’t risk making yet another mistake.
He had the slightest hope that the master would stop just after one hit, but he knew that it was pointless. The master never stopped just after one stroke. That would be mental. According to the master, that clearly wasn’t enough to discipline a fr… an idiot like him.
Sure enough, —— CRACK —— another whip came cracking down on him. Tom was already burning with pain, his skin feeling as though he was being scalded.
Again and again, the belt came down on him. Over and over. One after another. Tom eventually lost track of how many strokes he had received. Time felt as though it was in slow motion. Ever so slowly trickling by.
He vaguely wondered through the blinding pain when it was going to end. He felt as though he was going to die. Everyday, he felt that way.
Tom was somewhat aware that the master was saying something to him, but he was too exhausted to even register it. He was just hoping, wishing, praying that this torture would end.
Tears filled his blood-shot eyes as he bit down on his lip, so hard that he tasted blood. Or perhaps it wasn’t even from his lip. Maybe it was from his head, or nose. It didn’t matter to Tom. As long as he didn’t make a sound, he was alright.
__________
Finally, finally, the strokes stopped. After an eternity, the hitting ceased. Finally, at last. Tom felt as though his heart would give out at any moment.
Breathing hard, but keeping it as quiet as he possibly could, he lay limp on the floor. He heard a huff come from somewhere above him.
“You had better learn your lesson boy. We don't want this to happen again do we now,” the master said menacingly, and Tom could imagine him grinning maniacally above him.
“Freak,” the master said under his breath, but Tom heard him nonetheless.
He still felt a pang in his heart whenever he heard that. Tom really wasn't sure why. The master always called him that after all. Maybe it was from the extensive beating he had just received.
Tom listened to the loud footsteps of the master as he stomped away. He waited with baited breath until the master's footsteps could no longer be heard.
He exhaled in relief.
Tom was in more pain than he could ever really describe. He was ever so tempted to just lie there and never move again, but he had to clean up this mess if his. It was simply unsightly.
Tom strained to move his torso, and instantly an searing pain ran through his, well, everything. Tom let out a pained yelp in shock, before collapsing back into his original position
C’mon, Tom, you've dealt with worse. You can get up, Tom. There's no time to dawdle…
He tried to get up once again, but inevitably crumpled, yet again.
Tom kept trying and trying. Each attempt was more painful than the last. At some point, Tom almost felt as though he could not feel the pain any longer, but when he tried to get up, he fell to exhaustion.
He could feel himself fading in and out of consciousness.
Was this it? Tom had questioned himself. Tom nearly hoped that it was. He asked himself that every day, yet it never really was ‘it’.
Right on cue, Tom heard a shuffling sound from somewhere in front of him. He felt someone help him up into a sitting position, and he couldn't resist grimacing from the pain that it caused. The pair of hands stiffened for a fraction of a moment before slowly letting him rest in a sitting position.
“Come on, Tom, let me patch you up,” he heard a soft whisper say.
He forced himself to open his eyes. Bleary vision greeted him, and he could just barely make out the figure of a person with long hair kneeling down in front of him.
“M..mum?” Tom croaked out.
“Shh… rest now, child. We don't want to alert your father, now do we,” she gently said as she helped him up.
Tom winced at the movement. His father… Tom ran the words over in his mind. The concept was so strange to him. He didn't have a father, at least not anymore. He had simply accepted the fact and moved on.
Tom wasn't sure why his mother insisted on calling the master his father, especially in front of other people. It was just not right. The master wasn't his father. He was the master. Never a father to Tom. And Tom was the servant. The useless, dim witted, fre ––weird kid that was given a chance at life by the master.
Tom had to endure it. The beatings, the torture, or discipline, as his mother called it. It wasn't too bad. It was normal even. Tom just had to be grateful to the master. He had to be. He was supposed to be.
Tom didn't like it. He knew that. But there wasn't anything he could do. It was… exhausting, to say the least. To have to be with the master. But he had to push through. For the master, for his mother, for himself.
“Alright, now turn to your right for me, yes that's it. I'm going to bandage your arm now,” his mother delicately maneuvered him, making sure to be as gentle as possible.
Tom still silently groaned in pain. He didn't know how exactly one ‘groaned silently’, but that was what he did regardless. He groggily watched his mother bandage his wounds. Tom gathered his thoughts in an attempt to clear up his mind.
For some reason, he always healed rather quickly, even if he hadn't seen others get as injured as he has. As long as he focused really hard on his wounds, some strange tingly feeling would occur and the wound would close up nearly instantly.
It had first occurred not on the wounds, but on some books. He was very young, feeling something very strongly at the time. Out of the blue, the very same tingling sensation filled his entire body, and the very next moment, books started levitating off the shelves. It was extremely strange, yes, and Tom thought that it was very cool.
The master had and would always look especially repulsed and angry whenever he did that. And what came afterwards was decisively not as cool, and involved a lot more of the belt. Thus Tom did his best to refrain from doing the thing.
He wasn't sure what exactly it was, but Tom figured that was why he was a fr…weirdo.
“Come now, clean up this mess for me, will you?” His mother's voice brought him out of his thoughts.
Tom glanced hazily at his mother. Clean the mess...right, Tom realized much too slowly, his blood.
He moved gingerly, careful not to touch his mother. She clearly didn't want any blood on her. Why else would she ask him to clean the mess while he was clearly not in any condition to do so?
Tom swallowed as he inched towards a cloth nearby, of which his mother picked up and passed to him.
He knew that his mother was just trying to help him. If there was blood anywhere on his mother, the master would definitely catch on and only Emmanuel knows what the master would do to either of them. Most likely to him.
I just wish Mum would openly stand up for me, Tom sighed, kneeling on the floor. He was grateful for his mother’s help, don't get him wrong. Tom occasionally just wondered whether or not his mother really cared for him.
She did help him, and she didn't physically hurt him. Those counted for something, didn't they? In all honesty, Tom just believed that it was how most families functioned.
He was never out during the day enough to observe any other households. Tom would spend most of his time cooped up indoors, either being disciplined or being locked up in the room.
That allowed Tom a lot of time to ponder on various things. Many, many of those hours were spent in the darkness, wondering on the what ifs, and the what could be. There were pleasant thoughts, as well as ones not as enticing to have in mind, but what else could he do?
After he had carefully completed his task of cleaning up his mess. He had noticed — or technically not noticed — that his mother had snuck away while he was in his deep thoughts.
Probably to be with the master again, Tom huffed mentally.
He never did understand why his mother was so infatuated with the master. Didn't she see what he did to him? Her own son? It was simply pro-pos-teerus! Tom wasn't sure if that word was the one that meant what he thought it meant, but he stuck with it nonetheless.
Tom clutched his side, where the pain was still throbbing, and slowly but quietly shuffled towards the kitchen. He peeked into the room, and was glad to see that no one was present, outside of the other servants who were preparing the masters breakfast.
He crept around them, and silently threw the bloodied cloth into the rubbish bin. His blue eyes darted around the room quickly to ensure that no one was paying any particular attention to him. He nodded to himself, satisfied when none of the servants or chefs looked up from their work.
Tom shuffled down the corridor and to the safety of his hatch. Funny, that the safest part in the house was where he’s constantly locked up like a prisoner.
He tiptoed into the tiny room. It was not as bad as one might envision, honestly. On the contrary Tom found it quite cozy.
He flicked on the light switch and a dim yellow light flickered on. He scurried over to the mattress, and delicately lowered himself down. He winced at the contact that his wounds had with the mattress, but the cushioning helped to ease the pain.
As Tom lay there in the darkness, thoughts and ideas started popping into his mind, one by one, as they always did.
He thought of what the master and his mother could be doing right now. Possibly eating breakfast? Then he thought of what they could be eating for breakfast. He had seen the chefs handling some prawn and lettuce, so maybe steamed prawns with salad?
Those were the typical thoughts that usually occupied Tom for the better part of the day. But soon he found himself thinking about the tall man.
It was still, even a few hours after the meeting, a very odd interaction for Tom. No one he knew treated him with that much genuine thought behind their actions. Even his mother, as much as she helped him, was still not wholly helping him.
And yet, although the man surely wasn’t aware of the master nor his mother at all, the man had this sense of…confidence that Tom hadn't seen in anyone in his life. It was very cool to Tom. He felt like the tall man was someone that he could trust.
Not just because of the feeling, but because he had helped Tom. It wasn’t a big gesture, no, but it was so significant to Tom. No one had really comforted Tom before, not even his mother. She had at most quickly hugged him and patted him on the back before scurrying off to the master again.
But the man stayed with him. He had been a silent presence for Tom. And it felt the safest that he had ever felt. It was…nice. It was a foreign feeling to Tom. Yet, did he dislike it? No, he had thought, and decided that it was quite the opposite.
In fact, Tom wanted to feel it again.
But sneaking out was way too risky for him, especially with him on the master’s radar. It was realistically much safer for him to just stay locked in the house and be an obedient kid.
Plus, if he were to get caught, the master most definitely would not hold back. It made Tom shiver just at the thought. He wasn't sure if he could handle that again. Even now he still felt the throbbing pain from his injuries, even if it had dulled slightly.
Tom absentmindedly reached into his tattered pants pocket and pulled out the tall man’s handkerchief. He nervously fiddled with it as he thought about the possibilities.
The rational part of his hardened seven year old mind told him that he should stay in the room and just keep quiet. He simply couldn’t handle another ‘lesson’ with the master. And Tom was nearly fully inclined to go along with that plan.
Yet against all odds he wanted to see the tall man again. He wanted to be in that confident presence of the man. He wanted to feel safe.
So there he was, at 5:30 am in the morning, stumbling back towards the very same park bench that he had met the tall man at.
The tall man had promised to meet me again, so he must be there, Tom thought as he trudged on. But as soon as he was there, he was met with — silence. An empty silence.
Tom was dejected for a second, but refused to give up hope. The tall man said that we could meet again, and I can trust him, right?
He slowly shuffled nearer to the bench and lowered himself onto it. He sat there for a short moment, but could feel the tiredness of his body catching up to him. It was quite the trek from the master’s house to the park after all. The wounds hadn't made it much easier either.
He tried his best to keep awake, but could feel himself starting to fall asleep. Tom yawned. Well, he thought groggily as he gingerly lay down on the bench, I could rest for a bit while waiting for the man.
Tom carefully adjusted himself on the bench before promptly slipping into a slumber, clutching the man’s handkerchief to his chest with one hand.
He subconsciously thought that he felt something being draped over him, which felt very nice as he was quite chilly, but he played it off as part of some odd dream.
Tom smiled contentedly as he snuggled closer to this strangely comfortable warm thing as he drifted further into sleep.
What a nice dream this is.
To be continued