“Mum?” he called out to the figure slumped in the kitchen’s
high-back chair.
The figure looked up; an unmistakable sad face that he could’ve
never forgotten. She’s never been happy – ever since she’s married that Devil.
Speaking of that bastard…
“Mum,” he began tentatively. “He…”
“I know what your question will be,” his mother stopped him.
“Yes, he did.”
Everyone in that room gasped except for the teenager. He looked
at his mother sadly and shook his head. He’s used to the tears by now but he just
couldn’t understand what benefits will that man get by beating up his family.
For all the teenager know, he’s just tearing up his family that could’ve been a
happy family… if only he’d been a better husband and a much, much more better
father.
“Which?” he asked bluntly. There’re times when his father beats
up his mother but there’re also times when his father forced his mother to have
sex with him – which the teenager considered as rape. His mother didn’t agree
with the sex but what could she do? He knew how much his father had threatened
his mother. There was once when he actually held a butcher knife in his hand,
waving the knife menacingly in front of the teenager and telling his mother to
go to the bedroom and agree with his conditions. If she didn’t, that’ll be the
last time she’ll ever see her son. The boy was only around eight at that time.
He shook his head slowly to clear the thoughts and bad memories
of his childhood, trying to focused on nothing else but his mother – the one
woman in the world, besides Lyeana, that he would rather lose his life than to
see her suffer.
“Mum, you must stay here tonight. There’s absolutely no way
that you’re going back there!” he insisted.
“Yes, Ing, you simply must,” Mrs. Brett said eagerly. “We
could’ve fix you something…”
“Carol,” his mother began. “Please… I have no wish to bother
you.”
“Ooh… but you’re not! That’s actually a great point. Come on,
don’t tell me you want to go back to that horrible man!”
“I simply have to!” his mother argued. “There’s another man
who’s going to visit tonight,” she added quietly.
“The man I saw you talking to in front of the church earlier,
Mum?” the teenager chided.
His mother nodded slowly. “He’s a fantastic listener. He said
he’s going to confront that man in the house and settle the business once and
for all.”
“But, Mum, you could’ve got that new man killed!” he said in
horror. “How could you?”
“He’s such a nice man,” his mother said quietly.
“Ing, you could’ve gone for a divorce,” Mrs. Brett said.
“Please, Carol, I’ve tried. Remember the incident two years
ago?” she asked.
Mrs. Brett nodded slowly. “And he didn’t want to the sign the
letter and he... Yes, I remember.”
“You could’ve gone to the police or the newly established Women’s
Association and make a report,” Mr. Brett said gently.
“I daren’t. He might find out.”
“Then, we’ll help you,” Mrs. Brett said, beaming. “Yes, we
will.” Pause. “Ing, have you had that new man’s telephone number or summat?”
“I’ve got his house number.”
“Call him then.”
“Whatever for?”
“Tell him that you’d changed your location for the meantime.
Tell him to meet you here, in this very house.”
“You sure you don’t mind?”
Mr. And Mrs. Brett shook their heads.
“It’s fine, Ing, believe me. We’d love to have him here!” Mrs.
Brett said. “Then he could try out my special omelette. Ooh… I can’t wait!”
“Mrs. Brett, you know that your omelette’s the best in the
world!” the teenager said, smiling. He’d never felt so light-headed and so…
carefree. It felt great to stay inside a house without having to worry about
someone grabbing your shirt from behind and dragged you to a room, locking you
together with him inside the room so that he could vent his anger on you.
~~ecaf~~
“Three days ago, you’d agreed to do this show…” Ben told Tim.
Tim pinched his eyes shut and rubbed the bridge of his nose
agitatedly. “Three days ago, it’d been different – ”
“What do you mean by different?” Ben asked. “What’s changed?” he
swept his arm around him for effect. “We’re all still there. We haven’t
changed, not even a bit.”
“It’s just that Christian’s not here, that’s all Tim,” Mark said
reasonably, cutting Ben off his sentence.
Ben shot Mark a dirty look. He’s had something to say to Tim but
Mark knew that that comment from Ben would’ve angered Tim further. There’s no
need for a fuss at the moment…
“Yes, because he has a court case to attend!” Tim banged his
fist on the table, scaring Paul a little. He’d never seen their manager that
mad before. “Anyone knows what’s wrong with him? Did he break any rules? Did he
murder anybody? Did he just turn into a burglar or kidnapper or summat?”
Ben sunk into his chair. “We don’t know anything… Chris… well,
you know he’s always keeping everything to himself.”
“Most of the things,” Paul defended.
Tim shot a disapproving look at Paul.
“Okay, so he didn’t tell us everything… but that
doesn’t mean he didn’t tell us anything!”
“Paul, shut up,” Ben said. “You don’t make any sense.”
Mark felt like he’d had to say something. “I’m sure he’ll tell
us one day.”
“One day?” Tim boomed. “When will that one day be?”
Paul turned to look at Tim. “He’s just been through a rough time
lately.”
Nearly a week later, Christian was finally back in London. He flopped
down onto the settee wearing nothing but boxers, a mug of hot choc in his
hands, warming up his cold fingers. A rather large blanket was draped around
his shoulders. He was glad to be in London again but he was caught off-guard by
the pouring rain. It was bad enough when he’d had been splashed wet by a car
going over a puddle by the side of the street but when he got back to the house
that the four of them had shared, he realised that he hadn’t packed his
house-keys with him. He couldn’t bloody open the gates without his precious
keys.
Paul found Christian crouching outside in the rain, near the
gate, hugging himself to keep warm. He quickly ushered Christian into the
house, dragging his suitcase inside. Apparently, Mark and Ben weren’t in the
house. None of them had expected Christian to be back on that day. He’d called
a few days saying that his flight had been cancelled. However, he suddenly got
a call from Del saying that there’s an empty seat in the first-class that had
been forfeited and he’s supposed to fly immediately. Apparently, none of them
had the chance to call to London to inform the other three a1 guys. Besides,
Christian himself didn’t expect to be back that early as well.
“Why didn’t you call any of us?” Paul questioned as he threw a face
towel to Christian.
Christian took the towel and started drying his hair with it.
“Stupid phone ran out of battery. Stupid charger’s in the house.”
“Packed in a hurry, eh?” Paul asked.
Christian glared at Paul. Two seconds later, he sneezed.
“Bless you,” Paul muttered as he refilled Christian’s half-empty
mug with more hot choc.
“Thanks.” Christian sniffled and when he spoke later, he sounded
different.
“Chris, I reckon you’ve got a flu comin’.”
“I know.”
“And you don’t care?”
Christian shook his head before shifting his eyes and saw the
clock on the mantelpiece. 9.30pm. Might as well get some sleep, he
thought.
“Chris?” Paul asked again.
Christian looked up and stared at Paul. “Yea?”
“Have you got the airborne bug thingy?”
“Eh?”
“You know, the pneumonia thingy that’s running around…”
“The one that causes death?”
“Yeah.”
“Doesn’t feel like it. I feel fine.” However, he knew he was
beyond fine… his head was going around in circles. He looked at Paul through
tired, bleary eyes and informed that he was going to bed.
When Paul heard that Christian was going to bed, he looked up.
“Jetlagged?”
“Mmm…” Christian mumbled and made his way slowly to his room.
“Night, Chris.”
“Night…” Christian muttered.
~~ecaf~~
“Stein, this is my son – the one I told you about?” he heard his
mother informed that fair man before him.
He took that man’s – Stein’s – outstretched hand and shook it.
He had a strong, firm grip as well as an aura of confidence around him.
“I’ve heard so much about you,” he told that teenage boy, now
seated opposite him.
He nodded on Stein. “Same here.”
“You’re a musician?” Mrs. Brett inquired.
Stein nodded.
“Would you like some juice, Mr. – ” Lyeana’s sister paused in
mid-sentence, realising that she didn’t know that man’s last name.
“Ingebrigtsen… Stein Ingebrigtsen.”
~~ecaf~~
“Chris?” Paul shook his blond friend’s shoulder. “Chris! We’re
needed in the studio!”
The blonde turned and mumbled something inaudible. Another look
told Paul that there was something wrong with Christian.
“Paul!” he heard Mark called. He took one look at Christian and
decided that the jet lag was just catching up on him, he left his friend’s side
reluctantly.
“How’s Chris?” Mark asked.
“Sleeping.”
“Still?”
Paul nodded.
“Strange… he should’ve gotten used to the jetlags by now.” Mark
looked at the smaller man. “I’m gonna try.”
“Suit yourself… I need breakfast.”
“Ben’s there if you need him to cook.”
“Eeww…! He can’t bloody cook!” Paul shuddered.
“Better don’t let him hear that, you nutter!” And with that,
Mark pushed open the door to Christian’s room and heard the door shut itself
after he’d entered. The good thing is that most of the doors in the house were
on hydraulic systems.
“Chris –” Mark stopped himself, immediately noticing something
amiss.
Christian’s face was flushed bright scarlet, his lips dry and
cracked. His fringe was plastered to his forehead with sweat. Wrenching away
the duvet, Mark discovered that Christian was curled up in a foetal position;
his teeth clenched as if he’s cold or something and he was shaking violently.
He was asleep, no doubt of that but anyone with half a brain would’ve known
that he was not well.
“Oh my God…”
As if to answer Mark’s slip of words, Christian writhed in
discomfort, obviously not feeling very comfy with the fever. Mark immediately
reached out and touched his palm to Christian’s forehead. He was burning up and
feeling very warm… too warm to Mark’s comfort.
“Ben!!” Mark poked his head out of the door and shouted.
“Paul!!!!”
Two pairs of feet thundered their way up the stairs and into
Christian’s room.
“A doctor… we need a doctor!” Ben said as soon as he saw
Christian’s fitful figure on the bed, fishing around the many pockets of his
cargos for his mobile.
Ben was on the phone now, talking to a doctor while Mark was
around the house, searching for something to stop the temperature of
Christian’s body from going up any further.
“Chris!” Paul half-shrieked as he lunged at a swaying-Christian.
“Need…” Christian breathed slowly before continuing. “To get to
studio – ” Christian mumbled as his left hand held his head while his right
hand was on the wall, keeping himself balanced but the odds were against him.
Swaying dangerously, his eyes rolled up into his head as he collapsed – and was
caught by Paul.
“As far as I know, Chris, you’re not going anywhere!”
Paul hissed to an unconscious Christian as he and Mark hauled Christian up on
his bed again.
“Wonder how long he’ll be in bed…” Ben wondered aloud once he’s
off the phone with the doctor.