JOHN

Boom. Boom. Boom. 

I take large, calming breaths, trying to get my heartbeat under control. It amazes me that when fear takes over my body, I am stiff. But my heart is racing. I rest my body up against a bare wall in the hallway of the third floor townhome I lived in. Across from me, a young blonde teen, looking just as fearful as me. His blue eyes are wide as he bites on the ring that pierces his bottom lip. I noticed it was a habit of his to do in stressful situations. It’s quiet. We strain our ears, listening for any sound that would make us continue to the hiding place. But all I could hear was my heart. 

Squeak. That sounded like a stair. The sound repeats. He’s coming. 

“Sincere….” He sings my name. “Are you hiding from me?” His words are slurring together. I looked at Sabor, as he was quick to grab my hand and move us further down the hallway to the attic door. I face the stairwell as he works to bring down the ladder. I felt him grab onto my shoulders, turning me the right way, pushing me so I could step up. I have to move faster. I can’t tell how close he is now. Once I was up safely, I peered down back at my hero, expecting him to follow me. To my disappointment, he worked to push the ladder back up. 

“Wait, Sabor, what are you doing?” I asked in hushed tones. My heart beat was wild now. It felt like it could break out my chest cavity at any moment. Sabor disregards me. “Get up here with me!” 

“I’m going to keep an eye on him,” he said softly. “It’ll be okay.” His attempt to calm me was poor. “Close the door.” The squeaks were clear as day now. He had made it to the third floor. I hurried and did what was told of me. I didn’t close it all the way, just enough where you couldn’t tell that I was peeking. 

“Aye you shit!” His voice was loud, walking closer to Sabor who stood tall beneath the attic. Beneath me. “Where is your sister… tell her I need her.” 

“I don’t know where she is,” Sabor lied, blinking at the intoxicated man as he stepped closer. He stood tall over Sabor. His skin was pale, sweaty as he stomped around the house in a dark blue mechanic's jumpsuit. His dirty blond hair is greased back. The cigarette in his hand was just about gone, but the way he held it showed his black stained fingertips. With his eyes still on Sabor, he pointed up above his head. 

"She's up there isn't she?" Sabor stares at him, not answering his question. "Yeah. Yeah, I know she is. She can't hide up there forever." We all knew that was true. Eventually, he'd catch me. Eventually Sabor won't be able to protect me. Sabors body was thrown against the wall, as the man of the house held him in place by forcing his forearm into the young man's throat. Sabor huffed in anger, while the grease monkey flashed a teasing smile. 

"How long do you think you can keep this up? Perfect little brother protecting his sister." Sabor glared as a cloud of smoke was blown in his face. I squinted trying to see what was happening as it seemed that Sabor was now struggling. There was a sound of groaning and hissing. It only lasted a few seconds, before the taller man was pushed back. 

"I will kill you," he hisses, his hands shaking.

"Pshh," the man began stumbling away. "I'd like to see you try you little punk." His shuffling feet disappeared, and the squeaks of every step grew faint as he got closer to the ground level. I waited. Sabor would tell me when it was safe. He looked up at me, knowing I was watching. Even though he had a smile on his pimpled face, I could see a small tear run down. He didn't bother trying to wipe it away.

"Sabor," I started, ready to climb down and comfort him. He shook his head.

"It's okay," he tried to reassure me. "Stay up there for the night okay?" I didn't respond. I had to trust in him. He waited for me to close the door completely. Once I was engulfed in the darkness of the small attic, I could feel myself truly starting to calm. I felt around for the older pillow and dirty blanket I kept up here for emergencies. I wrapped myself in the cover, doing so for comfort. I don't know how well I'll be able to sleep tonight. I must try though. Tomorrow is a new day. Tomorrow will be a better day. 

A soft knocking interrupts my sleep. I rub my eyes trying to wake. My body aches. The wood floor is never comfortable. With the amount of times that I've done it, you'd think I'd be used to it by now. I sit up, stretching my limbs out and letting out a howling yawn. My eyes sting from the sunshine that leaks through the tiny window, adding some light to the small space. The lack of sleep also played a part. 

"Sincere, wake up!" I recognize Sabors voice. I quickly get on to my knees, crawling over to the opening, removing the small barriera that separated us. He brought his hand up to me and I was quick to take it. 

"Where is he?" I asked Sabor. He looked. 

"Downstairs… eating breakfast. He's sober now…" I nodded. I understood. The thing about my foster dad, he's an alcoholic. The bottle was his best friend. I suspect it was the replacement for his dead wife. When he had a little too much, which was a few days out of the week, his attention would stray from the alcohol to me. I'd be the replacement. 

It didn't used to be this way. When Sabor and I were first placed with this family, they were great. Warm, accepting. But when Elaine, our foster mom, passed six months ago, things got weird. Disturbing. John, our foster father, started off being sad all the time. Shortly after he started drinking. Then, he made remarks about the way I dressed, the way I walked… anything I did gave him a sexual thought.  He accused me of teasing him. The innocent touches started soon after. 

One night, just a few weeks back, he attempted the thing I was most afraid for. He had caught me coming out of the bathroom. He tried to force me back into the room, telling me that since I was throwing it out there, I needed to give in to him. There were a lot of drunken words spilling from his mouth that night. In the midst of fighting him off, Sabor ripped him from me. They went ahead to head. That night, Sabor and I slept on the bathroom floor, the door locked. From that point on, whenever John had something to drink, to the point where he wasn't coherent, I hid. Sabor was in protective mode. 

He was completely normal when he wasn't under the influence. I questioned if he ever remembered the things he had said and done. He has a fresh slate every morning, while we were scared of his next move. 

I heard the clattering of dishes coming from the dining room, as well as the smacking of lips. When I walked into the room, John greeted me with a smile. 

"There you are." The happiness in his voice rang out. He placed his fork down beside his plate of microwaveable pancakes. "I was looking for you." 

"I'm sorry." I know that there was no need for me to apologize, but it just seemed to make the situation better. He washed down his food with a glass of water. 

"I get home early tonight…" the middle aged man started, wiping the scruff on his face with a napkin. "Maybe we should have a family night or something." I stared at him, while Sabor hung back, keeping an eye out. 

"Mmm, maybe," I said softly, walking up to take his plate. He nodded. He liked the fact that I knew my role. I shifted my direction to the kitchen after I gathered his dishes. He got on his feet, looking sleepy, but much cleaner and put together than he did last night. 

"I'm off." I waited in the kitchen, listening for the front door to close and lock. A few short moments later, Sabor appeared in the doorway.

"He's gone. Come on, we don't have much time."