Monday 25 July 2016

Stockholm syndrome for two.

I want to have a gin and tonic and watch Captain Fantastic. Can't find any takers except Rocket-Locket but he's working and three hours out from getting home. I want to lie in the sun and not die from it, withering into dust under a gaze so intense it cooks you from the inside out and I want to call the shots.

All of them.

I want them to be lethal.

I want the devil to understand that the days of his quiet coercion are over. I wasn't made aware that these last couple of years I wasn't even his primary victim anymore in his own special brand of threats and promises, which are frightening and too believable for comfort, for easy dismissal. I didn't think he would stoop that low, and I didn't think Lochlan would remain quiet, failing to say a word when all this time he's been allowing himself to be crushed under the weight of Caleb's efforts to find a way to destroy us, any way he can. Loch wasn't going to be a rat but he's not going to be a martyr either. Not anymore.

While it was a soul-crushing revelation, thankfully I don't have a soul so it's also liberating. Game-changing. A relief for Lochlan now, a lesser burden spread amongst the rest of us. For that I am grateful. I'm also so much tougher than I look after all and for that I'm oddly thrilled about that. Out of the two of us I turned out to be the strong one? Yes, me, the littlest one who stood there and cried when she dropped her ice cream in the mud because it was dinner and it cost our last two dollars for those ice creams and Lochlan gave me his, saying he wasn't hungry, but his growling stomach kept me up all night that night and the next day I worked double time conning hearts (and stealing wallets) until we had enough money for food for a week. Then I could sleep. Then, so could he.

Now I'm going to make my drink and snooze in the shade while I wait for him to finish up, reaping the spoils of my war with this hollow materialistic victory of decadence. At least that's what Caleb calls it. I call it bullshit because I didn't ask for this, and Lochlan doesn't deserve to be punished for it. All the pools and expensive tile floors and big electric gates in the world can't make up for what the devil has done to us.

Fuck it all anyways. Claus leaves today. He said it's not going to happen until I make changes and find boundaries. He said what we've done is striking, touching and incredible nonetheless and if I'm going to lose my mind this will be the safest place in which to do it. He said Lochlan's tougher than I give him credit for, which I hope against hope is true in the end, because I want him to be, I don't want him to be hurt by Caleb any more, I don't want him to be second best and I don't want him to be hungry. I believe he's going to be the hero of this story and I don't believe it's over yet.