Chapter I – The Coming of Rebecca

I

It was still a little dark outside. The pretty lace curtains gave way to the glass paned window. The blinds were pulled away just a little so that he could look outside and know how the light of the day changed. Rory loved the laces on the window. They were intricate flower patterned and in white. Nothing really different from the average window lace curtains, but he loved them nonetheless. They reminded him of some more laces in the house. Those he did not come around to running his pale fingers along the edges. He wanted to.

There was golden light, the warm fuzzy kind, that was filling the room. It was a bright Sunday noon, the ones that came in the winter. When school was closed and were not due to open in another three months. The ones when there were nowhere to go, no uniforms to wear, no ball games to be played in the afternoons. Rory knew he was dreaming and he liked it. But as all dreams go, this one too was flirtingly vanishing. Rory tried to hold on to it. He wanted that dream. There was a flash of glorious hair, swishing as his mother’s face turned away, eyes bright and the most beautiful laughter in the world on her face. Those were the last few seconds. Rory was a tad bit disappointed that he was awake again. But the disappointment vanished just as easily as the dream. The laces gave way to a lighter sky outside now. But the inky shade would easily take another hour to fade away to a blue.

Rory fidgeted with the idea of getting out of bed. Wondered if it would be all right to start the day early. After all, the longer he was awake, the longer the day would be! He was turning 9 today, midnight. It was like an oversized balloon was being inflated inside him. He finally got off his bed and walked to the wardrobe. Putting on the pullover, he slid his feet into the slippers. Rory walked out of his room and towards the common bathroom they all shared. It was at the end of the corridor, closest to his parent’s room, and farthest from his and his sister’s, which were opposite one other.

As he passed his parent’s room, he thought he heard something. Like someone was hurt. A moan to be precise. He slowed down and went closer to his parents’ bedroom. He was right. Someone was definitely hurt. It was his mom. He was about to knock (mom never liked it when he came in without knocking) when something he heard both stopped him and confused him. “Gosh James, did I moan out too loud? The kids might be awake…” “Hush love….no..it’s too early…forget about it..where were we…so you like me calling you a slut? Huh you filthy whore! Look at your sloppy cunt…” came his father’s voice…but strangely raspy and he was panting. Rory stepped back. He did not know many of the words his father used. But it seemed like he was really angry with his mother. But why was he kind of whispering then? Whenever he was angry at other times, he yelled hard. His mother was now saying, “oh god damn yesss….I am such a whore….give me more cocks, James….I need more cocks…”. She did not sound like she was hurt but then again, she was moaning like she was.

Rory walked away and to the toilet. He did not know what was wrong. He had never heard his parents talk that way. He was confused. Not just to what he just heard, but also about what he was feeling. He was not scared but his heart was pounding. Was he worried? Rory wondered why his mother was worried that he and his sister would hear them? Why was his mother agreeing to whatever his father was angry about? Rory did not understand.

There was knock at the door followed by his mom calling out, “Rory? Are you in there? How long have you been awake?” Rory jerked out of his thoughts. He thought he noticed a touch of alarm in his mom’s voice. “Ye..yes mom! Not long. I just woke up!” “All right honey, wash up and come downstairs. Isn’t it a big day!”, said his mom. “Yes! Coming! Wow!” chirped back Rory. Zipping up, he flushed and ran out. All other thoughts were forgotten. It was indeed a big day. But in more ways than one. One that would start changing his life forever.

II

Amy, his 14 year old sister, was sitting with her back to the kitchen entrance. His father was sitting on left side of the table and his mom was at the kitchen slab. There were presents at the table. Rory walked in. There was the sound of wood scraping against wood, and then a blur of blue. Next thing he knew, Rory was on the floor, flat on his back and the back of his head hurt just a little. “Happy Birthday tiny one!”, Amy screamed. “Don’t call me tiny! And that hurt!” Rory retorted, a tad irritated.