Tick, tick, tick, tick His eyes were heavy on the clock above the kitchen window while he counted down the last minute before 10:07 P.M. And when the last tick tocked and the hand slivered down and marked 10:08, Credence closed his eyes and made a wish. But his wishes were always dappled first with gratitude. It was something he remembered being taught so vividly by his mother. Thank you, for another year. He had to catch his breath to overcome the hollowness that drowned his voice, mute. It was even a challenge for speech to channel through his thoughts.
One more year, and I can leave this place. I’m hoping I can find out where she is. That’s all I want. I just want to find her. Maybe . . . maybe you can help me? Whoever I’m talking to. He opened his eyes and wiped away a tear that was lingering to fall from his lashes dried in blood. “Happy birthday, Credence.” he whispered to himself and he dabbed at the fresh wound above his cheekbone with a wet paper towel. He winced while his hand trembled before he squeezed at it, allowing the alcohol infused to seep into the wound. And it stung. He braved the pain and sat there, holding the towel against his face for a good while before releasing. This is what I get. He justified his punishment. He’d forgot how much his step father hated it, when he asked to see that old photo of his mother.
There was a small chill however that creeped down his back as he allowed himself, a bit of anger. And then lightly, there was a vibration that rattled first—the table and then the cabinets as the china trembled like he did when he was scared. He closed his eyes and [ f o c u s e d ] …
“Credence?” He gasped and quickly stood, pushing his chair back as his father, no, my step father stumbled into the kitchen. “Credence I need you to go to the store for me.” He was stuffing his hand into his back pocket as he searched for his wallet. Credence kept his eyes to the ground, his fingers fidgeting at his side as he waited for instructions that he’d follow without question. The thick clank of his step father’s deputy badge hit the table and with, it a clamor of change pieces. “Damn it, can’t find my wallet.” His lips grumbled around the cigarette.
“Y-you had …”
“What, boy?”
“You had it in the living room.” His voice was thin, but Credence wanted to seem helpful. His stepfather glanced at him through reddened eyes. He’s still drunk. “By the fireplace, remember?” Credence dropped his gaze again and stood stiff, not daring to give off any sense of rebellious impressions. He glanced over at the deputy badge however, and shuddered. It felt like the key to some sort of cage he was unsure of how to unlock. And while the master of the house wandered off to retrieve his wallet, Credence let out the breath he’d been holding in. His hands began to tremble, and he hated himself for lack of courage. His right hand swept across him to hold steady the left, but he could not control it. And when the thumping on the floorboards grew louder, Credence hid his hands behind his back and stiffened his posture, again.
“Here’s five bucks. I need some more ginger ale and ice .” He tossed a five-dollar bill on the table. But it’s not enough money. Credence wanted to argue, but he only nodded and waited for him to leave the kitchen. His step father swayed a bit, still in the suit he’d worked his day in. He didn’t even remember smashing Credence across the face only an hour ago, or maybe he did and Credence still felt like he was in trouble. “Make sure you hurry on back.” Was all he left him with and walked back into his study. Credence wanted to crumble His hand—still trembling—reached for the cash, but first hoovered over the deputy badge. His thumb swept across the name, Deputy Charles Barebone I wish you could see how much I’m trying to be your son. But ever since his mom had run off, Charles seemed to hate Credence even more than he’d already had. And he wasn’t sure what he ever did, wrong, but he must have really done something bad. I’m sorry. He sniffled and grabbed the money and scraped up the change. He’d cover the difference.
The sky was overburdened with fog, but Credence let the cool air hit him like he let everything else. It was cold, but he was too numb, and he knew the way by heart, keeping his eyes down in solitude. He counted the groves in the sidewalk, evenly spaced. 123 until he’d find himself in front of the convenient store. But he paused and found a pair of pink sneakers in front of him. Hesitantly, he glanced up. And she was the one from their school – Becca. She was bundled in her coat of black faux and her cherry blonde hair had been stuffed in a maroon beanie. And she was smiling at him. Why?
“Hello . . . Credence, right?” She grinned. “Credence Barebone?” No, Credence Aurelius. He remembered his mother’s maiden name. Kendra Aurelius. But he nodded lightly and looked into her eyes for sincerity – but she had a deviant flicker working against her. What do you want? But he just stood there, waiting for her to say something more. “Was wonderin’ if that was you.” She anticipated something from him. A laugh? Flirtation? Credence shivered as she kept him.
“I-I gotta go.” He huddled his arms around himself and sidestepped around her. But she trailed after. He paused again, glancing behind him. And naturally he enforced concern. “Are you okay?” His voice was soft, but alert with all the worry for her in the world.
“Well.” She began pivoting those pink sneakers on the pavement. “I think I dropped my wallet, down this, this dark alley and-“
“I can help you.” He offered softly. She was scared, he figured, and he knew that fear all to well. It was the most uncomfortable thing in the world. Make sure you hurry on back. He ignored his stepfather’s reminder. Charles was a cop, he’d help if he were here. And when she smiled at him again, Credence surrendered his own little feeble one. And somehow he felt warm, and the cold didn’t matter.
He followed her to the alley where she’d claimed to have dropped her wallet. She huddled next to him, gripping his arm. He ignored the burning of the wounds beneath his sleeves and kept his eyes steady, searching the shadows. “What does it look like?”
“It looks like we’ve captured cop jr.” Credence quickly glanced up and four boys surrounded him. The one with the deepest grin was Scott Henson. Credence backed against the wall and his eyes went wide. “Nice job, Becca.” Credence looked to her with a depleting sigh, betrayed. “You cop dad has evidence. Evidence he never took to the station.” Scott began, approaching Credence. He grabbed his bangs and forced his head against the wall. “He robbed us of our stash, you’re going to get it for us.” Scott intimidated.
“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Your jackass pig of a dad, confiscated our dope, dude. He f***in’ kept it. Now I want it back!” And he shoved Credence, hard against the wall. He had to take in a gasp and crumbled to the ground as the wind was knocked from him. When he heard them all laugh, he gave up any thought of self defense. He was tired. Tired of fighting this will to go on. And so he just sat there, shivering as the snow began to flutter down and around them.
And then there was that feeling again. A dreary veil crept up his spine and prickled at his hairs. The pit of his gut turned sour and his hands trembled more. The lamp light above began to flicker.
“Look boys, he’s shivering. Let’s give him something to really shiver about.” And then they were on him, ripping off his overcoat and tearing off his shirt. He tried to fight them off. He tried to kick and punch, but they had him. They backed away, but instead of those expected mocking chides and laughs he saw that they stared down at him in horror. The lamp light above exposed the bruises and scars about his pale body, just before it went dim . . .
He was looking up at them in terror one moment, but the next he was being lifted. Anger rippled through him and he tried to hold it in, but he wasn’t strong enough and let out a loud and painful scream. And with that scream something was released. All he could see were the others shouting, running, pleading but then the ground rumbled and the walls of the alley exploded and everything went black…
He woke, bare and cold and ontop of a pile of rubble. He shivered and tried to stand, but there wasn’t anything left in him. He looked up at the collapsing of the alley walls and there in its wake, he spotted a pink sneaker. Huddling unto himself he began to sob violently until the panic of it all, pulled him into a fainting. I'm a monster. And the last thing he could hear, was the ambulance blaring in the distance.
This child is hurting so much - both externally and internally - and it just hits like a hurricane. Credence is such a tragic character and you add more to it with the way you express him in your writing. The struggle to handle abuse at home and now dealing with abuse/harassment outside the confines of his prison just makes me want to jump through the screen, pick the poor lad up and whisk him away to a better home.
I would love to write with this beanie baby and see things would go down between him and my elf. Maker forbid it goes awry but even if it did, adds more oomf to the story. The suffering he endures is just horrible, yet he does his best to stay in control of the magic that needs to be unleashed. He is a monster in his own head and you do a great job in portraying how it has come to such a conclusion. Credence truly is a victim that just needs to - for once in his life - experience joy.
First of all let me tell ye how much I was bound by this piece - from beginnin' tae the end. Every word made ye feel with Credence and bloody 'ell did I want tae kill those boys and his stepfather (and I'm normally not a violet person). I could not stop readin' once I started and with every paragraph it got worse and worse for Credence who only wants tae help. People can be so cruel and absolutely nobody is doin' anythin' about it - they all just watch it happen.
I adore the way ye portray Credence and tae what length ye go tae make us understand was goin' on inside him - how much he actually wants tae have friends and tae be accepted, tae be loved.
I'm lookin' forward tae readin' more of yer writin!
First of all, you making my full on Tina come out when those kids starting picking on Credence was uncalled for! I felt like I could literally jump in there and send them all flying into oblivion and beyond without even much hesitation at all. Which, by the way, Tina would do for him and gladly so. Hell, she gets fired for him and doesn't regret it one bit, and would easily do it again if it meant that she could help him find his way. This piece and your portrayal of such a lost character really brings out a whole new side to what this is all about, the true meaning of how magic can be found, even in the darkest of times. Most won't even dare to touch a topic like this for a character like this, which makes it all a thousand times better that /you/ are. Like, someone finally gets it!
This will be a forever cherished piece of writing.
I knew my heart wouldn’t be ready for this… but holy heckinbob. Love, this is beautifully heartbreaking. Breathtaking. The emotion in your writing shines through and I can just tell you’re someone who puts their all into what they write each and every time and I appreciate and respect that more than words can say. A topic such as this can be very difficult to write - - is heavy on the heart, but so r e a l. It happens in more homes than most people realize and I love that you are being a voice for those that cannot be heard through Credence.
You are tugging on mine and Cuddy’s heart strings with this character and all he is up against. He is soft, yet horrified and for so many valid reasons. The way you described his fear while sitting in that kitchen… it had me wanting to just reach for him, hold him and tell him that everything was going to be alright. I don’t know a lot about your character except from what you have shared with me, but I already feel so vested and connected with him because your writing just draws me in, allows me to feel what they are feeling, and just pray that he will find absolution…freedom from those proverbial chains of control, harassment, and abuse that he is suffering day in and day out.
As soon as I met this bitty with pink sneakers in your writing, I was screaming for him to run the other way. I love how you wrote her though. How she played off this innocent vibe…abusing Credence’s oh so big and soft heart. It’s just not fair – ahhhhhhh. Just when I didn’t think matters could get any worse for him… those punks. -clenches fists so very tightly-. See what you do to me?! I am just so lost in emotion right now that I can’t articulate all that your writing does to me and for me. You push boundaries, you immerse your readers into these character’s lives and I am here for it…ALL of it.
I cannot wait to go on this rollercoaster journey of emotions with you. Cuddy is R E A D Y. It’s time to heal this poor unfortunate soul and his beautiful heart.
