March 9, 2013, 1:06 p.m.
The boy who lived: Chapter 9
K - Words: 2,128 - Last Updated: Mar 09, 2013 Story: Closed - Chapters: 11/? - Created: Jan 05, 2013 - Updated: Mar 09, 2013 224 0 0 0 0
The next two days were pure madness!
Letters were popping up everywhere around the house, not only in the morning but at all times and places: they fell out of books, laid under the carrots in the fridge and as Cooper tried to pop in a DVD Thursday night, the player didn't open. It turned out that another letter had gotten stuck in it.
Against all odds, Vernon and Petunia managed to keep Blaine from getting his hands on one of them.
By Saturday morning the atmosphere was tense. Vernon hadn't gone to work in days but had it made his mission to monitor Blaine. Petunia wasn't used to do all the housework by herself, resulting in her being on edge constantly. Cooper was confused by the whole situation and pissed because no one explained anything to him.
The house was untidier than Blaine had ever seen it in his lifetime since Miss Figg had left to go on vacation. It also seemed quieter than it had ever been, the air buzzing with anticipation.
Blaine could feel it. His aunt and uncle were nervous and taut but he simply couldn't figure out why.
The letters made no sense to him. It was strange, weird, creepy and oh so frustrating! They seemed to be everywhere! All for him but he had no chance to get to know more!
He had tried to talk to his aunt. After the incident with his face and uncle Vernon's hand he had gone up to his room. Twenty minutes later a knock had startled him and his aunt had entered without a word, placing a glass of water and Aspirin on his nightstand.
Blaine had gaped at her but after a moment of adjusting he had started to ask questions about the letters, his parents, this secret and what it all had to do with him. Aunt Petunia had lingered for a moment, her expression torn but her lips pressed tight as if she had to stop herself from speaking. Then she had turned and left the room without a word or a glance back.
Blaine felt that the key to all his questions was the letters but it was impossible to investigate as Vernon seemed to keep his eyes glued to him.
So all he could do was to wait until the tension would get too much and collapse and hopefully reveal all secrets.
He didn't have to wait long.
It was just after lunch and he had just left the bathroom as he heard a loud shriek and then a loud crash and cracking glass from the kitchen. All Anderson men spurted towards the source of the sound, Vernon from the living room, Cooper from upstairs and Blaine from the downstairs bathroom.
They all reached the scene at about the same time. Blaine didn't know if he should laugh or cry. The dining room was covered in letters and more and more emerging from the kitchen, which seemed to be stuffed with them!
Apparently Petunia had opened the door to the kitchen and had been buried by the sheer mass of letters, tackling her and the plates to the floor. She was still lying there, covered in letters with green ink, sobbing.
Cooper and Vernon rushed to free her but Blaine saw his opportunity and grabbed the next letter and made a run for it.
The boy had a head start but it took his uncle only a second to catch up with the situation, leaping after his nephew. He growled as he ran after Blaine out of the dining room and into the hall, leaving his still sobbing wife with his son.
Blaine had just taken the first steps up the stairs as he was pulled back roughly, his uncle and him half falling, half stumbling down the stairs, landing hard. A moment of recovery later they were wrestling. Blaine kicked and screamed, holding to the letter with all the strength he had. He was desperate and not willing to let this go but his uncle was too big and too strong. It didn't take him one minute until he had Blaine lying on the floor, his arms crossed on his back and the letter cast away.
Blaine was still screaming, all his agony and despair breaking out. His uncle was merciless though. All he did was to pick up Blaine and lock him into the small bathroom before heading back to his wife, still breathing heavily.
Blaine hammered against the door, sobbing, the tears held in for days finally breaking free. He slumped down to the floor, arms slung around his knees, rocking back and forth while silent sobs were still shaking his body.
His mind was racing. He couldn't bear staying here anymore. Everything was too crazy, too brutal, too draining. He wanted to leave but there was nowhere to go.
He didn't know if he waited minutes or hours but finally the door opened and his uncle stood in the doorframe. He didn't comment on what had happened and simply said that Blaine should pack a bag and that they would be leaving in ten minutes no matter if Blaine was finished by then or not.
Blaine tried to ask where they were going and why and what was happening but all he got in response was a fierce look; Vernon's eyes the eyes of a madman.
He debated with himself whether or not to sneak into the kitchen to get hold on a letter but Vernon was guarding the door and there was no way of tricking him.
Blaine resigned, stuffing clothes, toiletries, books and the picture of his parents into a bag. He got into the car and didn't even bother asking where they were going. Cooper on the other hand did, complaining about how he had plans and play dates and that he demanded to know why they were going on vacation all of the sudden.
Blaine observed how uncle Vernon's knuckles got whiter and whiter, gripping the steering wheel but it was Petunia who shut her son up in the end by hissing he should keep his bloody mouth shut for once. That was quiet effective. Not ever had Petunia snapped at Cooper and it seemed like it would take quite some time for Cooper to digest that.
Blaine was sure that they were fleeing the letters and he was as certain as Vernon that it would work. How to deliver the mail when you didn't know where the addressee was?
Still, it seemed that his uncle wasn't quiet decided where to go. First they drove east until they reached the cliffs of Dover. His uncle got out, looking something up on his Smartphone, shaking his head and driving off again.
The same thing happened in the middle of Brighton and in the bay of Selsey.
His uncle kept driving along the coast and somewhere near Portsmouth, Blaine fell asleep.
He didn't wake up until they left the ferry.
"Where are we?" He mumbled, voice thick with sleep.
"Isle of Wight" Vernon cheered. He sounded unbelievably pleased with himself though Blaine had no idea why.
It had become dark by the time they reached the hotel. It was impressive, all bright stone and elegance. It was the spitting image of a British high class sea side hotel. Most of the lights were still on and Blaine was reminded of a Belle Époque hotel he had seen in some Vogue issue months ago.
Judging from the style and decor it was also very expensive.
They entered the hotel and Vernon approached the reception with a smug grin.
"Good evening, sir." The receptionist said with a smile as Vernon stopped at the counter.
"Good evening indeed. I'd like to book a suite just for one night." Vernon smiled. He was totally at ease. He was where he wanted to be. Blaine was only surprised that he wasn't shaking hands and telling people just how clever he was.
"Sir," the receptionist gave Vernon an apologetic smile: "We don't exactly have suites." Vernon's face fell so fast it was pretty hilarious. "But I could offer you two premiere bedrooms next do each other?" The man hurried to say. It seemed like he had felt that he really didn't want to bring this man's anger upon him.
"I guess that will do. But I will be able to have an eye on ... the boys." He finished, staring at Blaine.
"Of course you will, Sir. We might even have two bedrooms left with an interconnecting door."
"That will do. Thank you a lot." Vernon was smiling again and Blaine was sure that the receptionist let out a relieved sigh.
He began to take keys from a board and then turned to his books.
"On which name are the rooms, Sir?"
Blaine didn't really pay attention but he noticed the look Petunia and his uncle exchanged.
"Caffrey." Vernon said, still looking at his wife.
"Caffrey?" The receptionist repeated, looking at the scenery with new interest.
"Yes, Caffrey. My name is Peter Caffrey, my wife Elisabeth, our son Neal Caffrey and our nephew Nick Holden."
Blaine bit his lip. Did he really have to make it any more obvious that he wasn't part of their family?
"Well then Mr Caffrey do you want to pay now? As you are only staying for one night and you can pay the breakfast already. It is quite delicious." Vernon nodded.
"I presume you are going to pay with ec card?"
"Actually I am more of a conservative guy. I don't trust electronic money. So, cash it is."
The receptionist nodded slowly. Bewilderment would have been a gentle description.
"I see. That'd be £ 550, Sir."
Vernon got his wallet out, balanced the bill and snatched the keys without another word.
Petunia quickly handed the car keys to a staff member and instructed him to park the car before they followed Vernon to the rooms.
Never in his life had Blaine seen something so beautiful. The curtains, the furniture, even the duvets and the bed had a freaking canopy! He just had to touch and feel the material.
Cooper on the other hand had excused himself to the bathroom. After such a stressful day he just needed a bubble bath. Blaine was fine.
He got changed and hopped into bed, enjoying the comfort and warmth of the bed and duvet.
Still, he couldn't quite enjoy it. Sure, he had never lain in such a great bed, had never been able to really marvel in such luxury; just because he lived with the Andersons didn't mean that they shared their wealth with him on a daily basis...It was just that the situation was off and the questions of how and why didn't stop, keeping him awake.
Hours after Cooper had finally gone to bed Blaine drifted into a restless sleep full of green light, screaming, a giant man and letters, so many letters! Surrounding him, but never close enough to reach...
The next morning the Andersons sat well rested in the dining room for a late breakfast.
Only Blaine could barely keep his eyes open. His dreams had kept him up half the night and he still couldn't shake the feeling that they weren't just nightmares. They seemed too vivid and real and with everything that was going on he was just so close to believing in dream interpretation.
The other Andersons didn't share his worries though. They were discussing what they could possibly do for their impromptu holiday and whether they should stay a couple more nights or travel from bathing resort to bathing resort.
Uncle Vernon had just told one of his very bad jokes as the receptionist from the previous night reached the table.
"Excuse me, Sir." He began. "But I have like 50 of these at the reception. No one knows when they arrived, they were just there." Blaine looked up and yes, there was a letter in the man's hand. A letter that was so familiar by now.
"Something else seems to be very strange though," the receptionist continued, while Uncle Vernon seemed to have frozen in his seat: "The addressee is Nick Holden alias Blaine Anderson. Would you care to explain that?"
The receptionist was smiling, eyes flickering between Blaine and his uncle. He seemed to be sure to get a nice tip out of the story.
"Could I please have my letter?" Blaine asked in a small voice. The receptionist's eyes got a little softer as he looked at the small boy but that he actually tried to give Blaine his letter seemed to be Vernon's wake up call.
"Thank you very much. I will handle that." He snatched the letter away and stood up.
"Pe... Elisabeth? You take the boys out for a nice day. I will deal with this and pick you up later. Don't you worry." He gave the staff member a pointed look. "I follow, young man and be assured that I am very grateful for your service and I will acknowledge it graciously."
The man's grin couldn't have been wider. Forgotten was the sad little boy with the prospect of cash as he led the way for Peter Caffrey.