I'm Not From Earth - 11. Eleven

Somerset brought the taboo subject to breakfast the next morning.

"Look," he said slowly. "I know I said that I wouldn't mention your father again, but isn't there shit you'd like to get from your home?"

"My father's home," Rover corrected with a growl, meeting Somerset's cautious eyes with a glare for a moment. He then stared at the glass of milk in his hand and the plate of steaming pancakes in front, debating which to upturn on his friend's head before omitting both choices.

Somerset was right again. As much as Rover didn't want to think about it, he did have to retrieve his materials from his father's house. Although it wasn't unfixable, Rover was failing half his subjects. If he didn't push his grades up to at least a pass he would not be allowed on the football team next year... and all of his school materials were trapped in that backpack he had left at the foot of his bed back in his room. To make matters worse, his finals were in a week's time, and he hadn't reviewed anything.

Rover pondered about his situation, and his friend said nothing of it during the next while. It wasn't until the third evening of his stay at Somerset's did he finally voice what he had to do.

"Let's do it." Rover said vehemently, in the middle of washing his empty mug of evening beer.

"What was that?" Somerset called. He was a few paces behind, still stuffing his face with left-over pizza.

"My stuff. I need to get it tonight."

Rover heard footsteps behind, and felt a sharp slap to the side of his butt cheek. "What the hell --"

"Aight bro," Somerset said, grinning, spinning his car keys around his finger. "I see you've finally found your balls."

Before Rover could back out, Somerset had him thrown into the back seat, and they were rolling through downtown. The city lights and blaring signs stirred blurry memories of the night Rover escaped from home. He vaguely remembered the streets he ran down, the roads he raced across, and the buildings he passed. He remembered the cruel rush of adrenaline, the merciless fatigue that tugged at his movements, and the fiery pain that had ignited in his side. He remembered the sound of his shoes against a metal staircase. The cool breeze that kissed his burning cheeks when he entered the rooftop. The burst of fear in his chest.

Somerset stepped on the brake, and Rover's vision was awakened. They were no longer in the city.

Thirty minutes of driving immediately felt like nothing, and Rover's heartbeat accelerated as the car slowed down. The quietness of the familiar neighbourhood pricked his nerves raw, and he was suddenly sitting upright, his fists clenched in his pockets. Tall trees loomed over, dappling the cold, blue moonlight over the road. Rows of flowers shivered in the breeze, as though trembling in fright. They passed by mansions, fields, and more mansions.

And soon enough, waiting ahead, was his father's house. Stone white walls and flat rooftops gleamed in the navy of the night sky, lit by a million stars overhead. Birds-of-paradise beckoned the mahogany, double door entrance. Palm trees stood as motionless silhouettes. Empty fields stretched behind, framed by rolling hills in the distance.

It was undoubtedly a beautiful sight, but Rover felt nothing but repulsion. And almost unbearable fear.

"How are we going to sneak in?" Somerset asked, killing his engine beneath the shadow of a tree a few metres away from the house.

"I can climb up to my room," Rover said, swallowing. "Given that my window isn't like, locked."

"That's it?"

"There's a sky light above my room."

"Anywhere else that might be open?"

Rover shook his head. "Uhm, not really, no."

They looked at each other briefly before they both stepped out of the car. Rover motioned to his friend silently, and they ducked behind a bush.

"This is going to be tricky, 'cause my father has the back guarded."

Somerset nodded slowly, brushing away a stray branch. "I'll go take a look."

Rover closed his eyes as his friend departed from the safety of the shadows. Forcing down his urge to run back to the car and hide, he turned and peeked above the bush, surveying the house. It was mainly dark. The three broadest swathes of glass in the centre of the house had their curtains drawn, and the only lit window was the one on the far left. His father's study. It was also conveniently right beside Rover's room. This would make retrieving things quite risky.

"Hey."

Rover started to Somerset's voice, and he turned to face his friend.

"Yeah?" Rover whispered.

"There's no one," Somerset whispered back, sitting himself down on the downy grass. "I ran around the back several times, but there were no guards."

Rover frowned, biting his lip. "That's weird... I wonder why. Maybe they're out."

"Maybe they're having a strip poker party in your basement," Somerset said, standing up.

"I don't have a basement," Rover shot back. "They're probably in my father's room -- that's the window that's lit. Also, my room's like right beside it."

"We can make it. Now shut up and get up."

They rounded to the back in a flash, both sliding against the wall to be extra sure, before Somerset put his hands together. Heart in his throat, Rover nodded a silent thanks to his friend, put his foot up, and allowed Somerset to give him a lift. He grasped the jut of uneven cement protruding from the wall, and quickly swung himself ontop of a window sill. A soft clatter as broken chips of stone fell to the ground.

Rover stared at his father's window intently, but there was no movement or voices, so he sighed and looked to his destination. His room was still a good five metres above, so he needed to be very careful. Next was the tricky part.

He now had to get to the balcony on his left, and then proceed upwards to another window sill to try out his window. If that didn't work, he would have to climb to the roof, in which he could drop down the sky light into his room. In the past, when Rover snuck out to meet Somerset, he would always rely on the vines crawling up the walls as an aid, but now, he wasn't so sure those spindly stems would support his weight. Actually, he was pretty sure they would snap as soon as his feet left the current safety of his narrow ledge.

But he had to try, because jumping could easily prove to be a stupid mistake.

Feeling foolish and wondering why he never thought of this problem before they arrived, Rover reached out and searched for the thickest vines to grip onto. Stay under control, he told himself, and with a sharp intake of magnificent breath, he pushed away from the window sill and felt gravity tug maliciously at his body... and he hung there, supported perfectly.

"Just like how I did it a thousand times before," he muttered to himself, and reached upwards for another grasp, planting his feet onto the wall. Within seconds, he was waving to Somerset on the balcony and trying out the locked window. In another flash, he was on the rooftop, breathing heavily. This is it, he thought, bending down to slide the circular glass skylight aside. He lowered himself as quietly as he could onto the wooden floor, suppressing his panic as the blackness of the room took over.

Rover hated the dark.

He was imprisoned in it, for there was no way he would risk cracking open a light. Slowly, his chest about to split, he got on his knees and felt his surroundings cautiously. Rubber, denim, silk, wood. Dust swirled in his breath when his fingers collided with objects. Cobwebs shivered and stuck to his hair when he ducked under his bed. The coldness of the room pricked goosebumps across his skin, and his teeth chattered. He reached out again, feeling more clothes... and then rough leather. A chain. Heavy buckles, and an open zipper.

Got it!

Standing triumphantly, he tip toed to the window, drew the curtains, and looked downwards. He was glad the sky was so clear, and the moon so bright, for he and Somerset were able to make eye contact immediately. His friend grinned and beckoned. Rover unlocked the window, slid it open, and dropped the backpack. A soft whump and a deft catch. It was time to get out.

Climbing down was the difficult part. A single slip would be disastrous. Taking a deep breath, Rover positioned himself on the edge of the window, and then dropped down to the balcony underneath. His bruises jolted, but he bit his lip to keep himself from making any sort of sound. He leaned over the edge to examine. Just like how I did it a thousand times before, Rover repeated to himself, hooking a hand to a thick vine. He took a tedious step to the right, testing the strength of the holds. He turned to find another vine, but the sturdiest one looked too far to reach. But if he stretched far enough, he would be able to just barely grab it...

Rover released the hold in his left hand, ready to transfer his weight to another vine.

A snag.

Before he knew what was happening, he had fallen backwards. The wind rushed through his ears. A thud as all the wind was knocked out of his body, and then all was still. Stars danced in front of his eyes.

His head throbbed, his vision blurred, but he was able to sit up. He realized that he had fallen on something.

"Would you get off me?" Came a voice from underneath.

"Oh hell." Rover quickly rolled off, staring as Somerset unfolded himself, cracking his back and rubbing his forehead. "Uhm, are you okay?"

"I should be asking that fucking question, you idiot."

"Sorry," Rover murmured. "I mean, thank you."

Somerset chuckled, then his expression froze. The smile dropped off his face, and he was cussing, heaving the backpack over his shoulder. Rover was pulled up, and a shiver ran down his spine. He turned.

The bottom most window was lit, the curtains drawn back. Rover found himself staring straight into his father's face.

And before Rover could let out a whimper, Somerset tugged on his arm and they were racing across the garden and to the car. Doors slammed, the ignition flared. The screech of tires filled the night, and they were roaring down the road. Rover threw his vision over his shoulder and saw the garage door open, the lights of the limousine blaring into the night. A single bodyguard was standing on the driveway, watching them with a snarl. Rover wondered if he could get a clear view of the car in the darkness.

"They're coming!"

"They won't catch up," Somerset said through gritted teeth, swerving roughly around the corner.

The rickety old Ford sputtered and protested against Somerset's foot, jammed into the gas pedal, and Rover feared that the car may break down. But everything held together, and they entered back into the city in minutes. Every open space in the road was nabbed, the speed limit ignored. Neighbouring cars punched their horns in indignation, but not once did Somerset stop. They ran four red lights and out sped a bus, all the while with Rover desperately craning his neck backwards, checking for any sign that they were being followed. Once or twice he thought he saw the gleam of black windows, but before Rover could position himself to get better looks, they swerved in front of a car or cut through a corner.

They reached the safety of the apartment

Rover dragged his backpack from his lap and shut the door of the car, just standing there until his breathing calmed and until his palms were no longer sweaty. Everything was calm. When they finally entered through Somerset's door, Rover made a beeline to the bedroom and opened his backpack. He flicked out his cellphone and plugged it in to charge. He then pulled out his books, splaying them across the floor. Biology, Math, Psychology and Othello. He fished out a wad of crumpled worksheets and separated each package, picking off frayed edges and smoothing water stained pages. He sharpened a pencil until its point was keener than a needle and spun it, reading his test outlines. He settled with Biology because it was the hardest for him, read through a chapter, then stabbed the pencil into his knee.

All he could think about was his father's expression.

Was that a frown of disappointment? A grimace of hurt? Rover bit his lip. He shook his head, knowing that even if his father had feelings of sadness, they would be quickly replaced by his drunken rage. Rover needed more time to hide. But how much more time could he buy? And what then when his time ran out? What would he do next?

Somerset's soft words ran through Rover's head.

This is how life works. If you run away, you'll never fix it.

Suddenly Rover was furious. This wasn't even his problem. It was his father's. His father who's violent, who speaks only when poisonous words were upon his tongue. His father who was so closed up.

Rover tried for so long, but it was all just pointless. Maybe he didn't want to fix all this. Maybe he didn't care. And even if he did, maybe he shouldn't care.

His fingers shook as he turned the next page, and with a growl, he gripped the heavy textbook in both hands and tore it in half down the spine. The air filled with a satisfying rip, and his breathing slowed a bit. He grabbed his Math and pulled that one apart as well. He left Othello for that would give in too easily. And like he had done it a hundred times before, every time his father told him to finish his homework when he had finished beating him, Rover laid each half neatly back together, and went in search for clear duct tape.

When his textbooks were bound up, he threw off his shirt, curled up in a ball in the seat near the window. Thinking of something recent that seemed like the only thing able to push the thoughts of his father away. Thinking of a gentle smile, gleaming white teeth, and long, warm hands. Thinking of green eyes that teased and laughed, and a soft voice that chuckled music in his ears. He really wanted to see the boy again. He had to see him again, to make sure that he actually existed.

Rover hugged himself tightly, and he felt as if there was a hole in his chest.

He woke, hours later when it was dark and nearing midnight, to the purr of a familiar engine far below. He threw off the jacket covering him and peered through the closed curtains, his worst fears confirmed.

They were here.

*