The Mallory's
A boy with dirty blonde hair and metallic blue eyes cowards in the corner between the wall and his shared bunk bed as the sounds of fists hitting face fills his ears. Tears stream down his pale face. He can hear his brother trying to mute his cries but failing miserably. He wants to go out into the hallway and stop it, but he can’t. He knows that Peter will get mad at him. Peter has told him when Mr. Mallory gets mad, just to let him handle it, but Harley can’t help but feel guilty that he’s doing nothing to stop it.
The foster home that the two boys reside in seems nice on the outside. They have two “loving” foster parents that provide them with food, water, and shelter. That is, until he gets mad. Harley knows that they aren’t going to eat this week. Not after hearing the beating that Peter is getting right outside the door. His heart drops as he thinks about the torture that his brother is going through right now. All he wants to do is stop it, but last time all it did was make things worse.
The last time Harley stepped in, was about a year ago. It resulted in the two brothers having to sleep outside in the middle of winter. Peter tried to make it enjoyable though, they made a bed out of the snow and cuddled up together under their thin blanket. Even though Harley was freezing, he was just glad he was with his brother away from the demon of a man inside.
So here Harley is, sitting in the corner of his and his brother's room trying to block out the sound of Mr. Mallory beating him up. Harley sits, and sits, and waits, and waits, and what feels like hours passes by in minutes. The door of the bedroom slams open causing the light from the hallway to assault his eyes. Mr. Mallory throws in the limp form of his brother. Without a word, Mr. Mallory slams the door shut and locks it with an audible click, leaving the two boys in complete darkness.
Harley jumps up from the corner and quickly turns the lamp on. Light spreads across the room like a sickness as dread fills Harley’s body. The metallic smell of blood consumes the air in the tiny bedroom. Tears block Harley’s vision as he attempts to see his brother on the floor. He blinks away the tears causing them to fall down his face. His blue eyes widen at the gruesome sight on the floor.
Peter isn’t moving.
Peter looks dead.
Harley runs to his brother, shaking him, yelling at him to wake up. Peter doesn’t. Peter looks horrible. His face is swollen and painted with cool tones embedded in his skin. Blood covers the entire left side of his face. The poor kid's clothes are ripped and a visible slash of a knife is prominent on his right arm.
Harley cries and cries and cries, until Peter’s eyes blink open. Harley stares at him in shock and relief. He drops to the floor where Peter is laying and throws his arms around him.
“I’m so glad you’re alright.”, Harley sighs.
Peter laughs weakly, “Yeah, I always am.”
Peter makes a move to sit up and in contrast to before, Harley throws himself away from Peter. Harley helps Peter to sit up with his back against the bedframe of the bottom bunk. Once settled against the bed, Peter sprawls out his legs and carefully leans his head back into the mattress. Harley sits across from him criss-cross applesauce.
Peter lifts his head looking at Harley, “You don’t need to feel sorry for me. I’d rather it be me than you.”
Harley sighs angrily, “That’s the thing Pete, stop playing the hero all the time. I can handle myself too, you know! I don’t need my twin brother saving me all the time.”
Peter slightly smiles, “Yeah but, I’m older.”
“By six minutes!” Harley gawks.
“Still makes the difference Harls.” Peter says laughing, then wincing immediately after.
Harley sighs, “You look really bad. You’re definitely not going to school tomorrow. Now I have to lie to everyone, again, and say that you’re sick, again. At this point, I don’t know how CPS hasn’t been called because of how many times you’ve been ‘sick’.”
Peter makes the movement to lean forward closer to Harley but instead lets out a yell, grabbing his side. Harley looks at him with concern as he moves closer. Slowly he lifts up Peter’s shirt to see aggressive bruising on his ribs. When Harley looks at Peter’s face, it has tears streaming down it. Now Harley really knows that this is bad.
Peter never cries.
Harley has two options: Do nothing, or do something.
Harley is on a mission. He knows that Mr. and Mrs. Mallory are asleep in their room. He also knows that they leave their phones downstairs charging in the kitchen, something about the radio waves from the phones causing cancer. As quick as he can, he sneaks downstairs and reaches the phone.
Shakily, his fingers press against the keyboard, typing out ‘911’. Every ring of the phone causes his anxiety to spike. Willing this call to go faster, he starts pacing the kitchen. What feels like forever, the ringing stops.
“911, what’s your emergency?” a woman’s voice comes through the speaker.
Harley pauses, all the air leaves his body. He’s frozen in fear.
“Hello? Is anyone there?”
He finally receives some air in his lungs, but his words still come out squeaky.
Harley stutters, “Uh, hi. My name is Harley and my foster dad just beat up my brother. I think he’s dying.”
“Hi Harley, my name is Marissa. Do you know your address?” Marissa’s voice is a comforting contrast to how Harley is feeling.
“Uh, I think it’s 32 Grant Ave?”
“Okay and how old are you and your brother Harley?”
Tears start to flow harder from his eyes, “We’re twins and we’re eight.”
He can hear the operator stumble for a second after hearing their ages, “Alright Harley the police are on their way. Just stay on the line with me until they get there, sound good?”
Just as Harley is about to answer the phone is ripped from his hand and he’s pushed to the ground.
“Who the fuck are you calling on my phone in the middle of the night, you little shit?” Mr. Mallory’s cruel voice assaults the ears of everyone in the house.
Mr. Mallory looks at the phone and his eyes widen with shock and then narrow in anger. He quickly hangs up the phone and throws it across the room with a guttural yell. He picks Harley up from the ground and tosses him across the kitchen into the cabinets.
“Do you know what you’ve done, you little shit? I’m going to fucking kill you, and then your asshole brother.” Mr. Mallory screams in Harley’s face.
Harley begins to cry harder as Mr. Mallory’s punches rain down on him. In the faint distance Harley can hear heavy footsteps at the top of the staircase. There stands Mrs. Mallory with a scared expression hidden by her black eye and Peter standing next to her. Peter has pure anger written on his face.
The two of them walk down the stairs, Peter clutching his ribs and Mrs. Mallory’s arm.
In all the time of Harley and Peter living at the Mallory’s house, they have never heard Mrs. Mallory speak. She listens to what her husband says and if she doesn’t act right away, she gets hit, similarly to what happens to Peter and Harley.
That’s why Harley understands what happens next.
~~~~~
Peter stumbles over to Harley and drops into his arms. The two of them are on the floor, Peter shifted them so that Harley’s face is now staring into his chest. Peter’s shoulders are shaking in silent sobs as he watches the scene in front of his face.
He purposely hid Harley’s view from what's happening. Peter is the strong one, he was born six minutes before him! All Peter wants to do is protect Harley. As he leans back to look into Harley’s face, dread fills him when he sees the black and blue scattered across his brother's face. Peter carefully places his hand on the back of Harley’s head and softly pushes him back into his chest.
Peter looks up just as Mrs. Mallory grabs a knife from the butcher block sitting on the counter. This whole time the yelling from Mr. Mallory hasn’t seized until now. The married couple stare into each other's eyes for the last time. The knife enters Mr. Mallory’s heart and he’s dead in seconds.
His body hits the floor, Harley jumps in Peter’s arms at the noise. For the first time, in all the years that they’ve lived at the Mallory’s, Mrs. Mallory speaks.
“Finally.”
The word is whispered, but they both can hear it. The meaning is much louder than the volume.
~~~~~
Red and blue lights flash from behind the blinds, illuminating the dark room. Mrs. Mallory left the scene in the kitchen and proceeded to sit down on the couch and watch TV.
Peter and Harley continue to sit on the floor, the blood from Mr. Mallory’s body is inching closer and closer to the two boys hugging each other tightly. Peter hasn’t let Harley turn around to see the gruesomely bloody scene. All Peter has done is stare at the blood and slightly rock back and forth with Harley in his arms, lethargically.
The door is kicked in as Peter and Harley both turn to see who is walking in. The kind officers move quickly, squatting in front of them, blocking the gruesome view. The woman officer puts her hand over her mouth, Peter can see tears start to form in her eyes as she takes in the pathetic sight of the children on the floor.
“Hi sweethearts, what are your names?”, the kind lady officer asks.
Harley begins to cry harder as he shoves his face into Peter’s chest. Peter takes a deep breath, “I’m Peter and this is my twin brother Harley.”
In the distance Peter can hear them arresting Mrs. Mallory. He looks over towards the chaos, they make eye contact. Mrs. Mallory gives Peter a kind smile and mouths, ‘He’ll never hurt you again.’.