3 Chapter 3: Lying
He was running. Faster than he had ever gone, and yet, was never able to outrun the terror and fear. Whatever was chasing him made him feel like a disappointment, he couldn’t shake himself free from the torture, but then, he heard a noise, a voice. It was calling to him, from the darkness. He looked around, breathless, reaching for the voice. Wanting to wrap his arms around who was calling him. His face broke, tears poured down his cheeks, he could taste the salty liquid as he ran. But it was too late, he was on the ground, and his pursuer was on top of him. But then, the voice called one more time, shaking him free of his nightmare.
“Mark, sweetie, are you alright?” Brooke asked her son, who was covered in sweat.
Mark couldn’t have felt more relieved. His face was wet, his clothes were sticking to his skin, his sheets were soaked. The sheets he knew his mother washed before placing them on his mattress. He looked at her, guilt etched into his face, “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what?” his mother asked, taking a rag, and wiping his face.
“For…” Mark froze, his voice stopped. His mother wasn’t the one who thought he was a disappointment, and she’d think it silly for him to apologize for ruining the sheets. “Nothing.”
His mother smiled, and hugged her son. He felt her warm embrace, and reached his arms out to hug her back, but he stopped. His fingers started to shake, and his arms wouldn’t budge. His eyes looked past his mother’s loving arms, and saw his father’s disappointed face. He recalled his dream, and fear struck his young face. He looked at his father, scared his dream would become a reality.
Brooke noticed her son tense, and could feel his vibrating body. She let go, and held him at arm’s length, but he wasn’t looking at her. His eyes were staring in pure terror behind her. She slowly followed his gaze, and her eyes met her husband’s. She sighed, “Mark, haven’t you put him through enough?”
“Enough?” Mark, Sr. asked, “enough? That boy clearly doesn’t understand.”
“Understand what, Mark?” Brooke seemed to defend her son, “that you hate him?”
“No, Brooke, sweetie. I don’t hate him.” his father responded, putting his hands on Brooke’s hips.
It was a lie, he could tell. His face resumed its original smile, and he rose from the bed. “I know, Dad.” Mark said, as he approached his parents.
“Honey,” Brooke began, but saw her son’s confidence, and silenced herself. She slowly removed her husband’s hands, and walked passed them out of the room.
“Finish cleaning this room, boy.” Mark, Sr. stated, before slapping his son, “no more sleeping in. You also ruined the sheets your mother cleaned. Wow, I can’t believe you live in this house.”
His father left the room. Mark stood there, solid, he wasn’t going to budge. He almost screamed, but regained his composure, and began to pull the sheets off the bed. What time was it, what day was it? Tears began to streak down his cheeks. It wasn’t because of the pain stinging his face, it wasn’t because his hands were trembling, his tears cascaded down his cheeks because he felt hated. Even if his father claimed to ‘not hate’ him in front of his mother, if a deaf person heard those words they’d know it wasn’t true. But somehow, his mother couldn’t respond, she couldn’t voice the truth, or maybe, she believed him. Mark covered his face with his hands, and he grabbed the glasses his mom placed on the desk, before checking his alarm clock for the date and time. It read 10:38, and when he really thought about it, it was a Monday, no less. He frantically searched for his belongings, and then realized it was summer. He sighed, another day to be harassed by my father. He reached for a book to keep him occupied, but then, his brothers stumbled into the room.
“Hey!” William said, as he sat next to Mark on the bed, “look who’s finally awake!”
“Haha, very funny.” Mark said, as he made sure his face was dry.
“Mark, are you… crying?” Joe asked, sitting on Mark’s other side.
“No, no, no, I just had a nightmare last night, and was sweating because of that.” Mark said, knowing that it wasn’t technically a lie, he did have a nightmare, he was sweating.
“Okay.” Joe said, removing any sentimental feeling that was there in the first place, “so, why do you have to go to school before we do?”
“It’s because he is smarter.” William answered.
“Sure, but why? May I ask, is he so smart?” Joe asked, “While we got the dumbness?”
“I don’t know, maybe he sucked our brains out before we were born!” William responded, “Do brains taste good, Mark?”
“Stop thinking with your stomach, William. And no, they probably don’t.” Mark said, clearing the misty fog that appeared on his glasses, when William spoke to him.
“Wait, have you eaten a brain?” Joe asked, confused.
“No, I said, ‘probably’ meaning I have no clue.” Mark responded, returning his glasses to his eyes.
“Huh.” Joe sighed. “Have you ever wondered what type of superheroes we would be if we were heroes?”
“Yeah, I’d be the one that is so strong, I can eat anything! Mark would probably be like Alfred from Batman.” William paused, he looked at Joe, “and you - .”
“I can be the one that is like Cupid!” Joe interrupted.
“Cupid isn’t a superhero.” William responded.
“Neither is Alfred,” Mark said, under his breath.
“Okay, fine, Mark. You could be like Batman.” William corrected.
“Fine, I shall be the one who saves all of the ladies!” Joe mused.
“Typical.” William sighed.
“What about all of the men?” Mark asked, teasing his brother.
“Oh, yeah, them.” Joe sighed.
“How old do you have to be to be a hero?” William asked.
“I don’t know, whenever you get your powers I suppose. Sometimes heroes are only around 15, like Spiderman.” Mark voiced his thoughts.
“So, we have to wait, like, six years!?!” Joe asked, dumbfounded.
“Yeah, but that’s okay. In the meantime, you can practice making all the girls love you so that they don’t think you're kidnapping them.” William laughed.
“Haha.” Joe joked, “for your info, I am already P O P U L A R with the ladies.”
“We know.” Mark whispered.
“Anyway, have you eaten, Mark?” William asked.
“Ah, no, not yet. I just woke up, remember?”
“Let’s eat together then.” William said, standing up.
“But, I’m assuming you already ate.” Mark replied, standing next to his triplet who already was taller than him.
“Yeah, he ate with me.” Joe stated, and he stood next to Mark, they were around the same height.
“Alrighty, the food awaits!” William said, and gestured to the door.
Mark laughed, he loved it when his family was happy, even his dad. He marched out of the room with them, and when he saw his father, he couldn’t help but cower in fear. He still wanted his father to be happy, as crazy as it sounded. Unfortunately, he’d even lock himself in his room in order for his family to be happy, all together, as a family. Many times, he purposely lied about having extra homework so that his family could happily go out to eat together.
