Come in(Literary talent of Jero)

Literally.

"Hey, little girl." The two words that meant my life was about to be ruined again. I took a deep breath, closed my locker and turned around.
"You look beautiful again today." Lennart Claes. My greatest fear.
"Couldn’t go swimming again today? What’s the matter, are you sick or something? "
"Probably, or else he just doesn’t want us to see what a little girl he is." Diego De Laet. Lennart’s right-hand man.
"Shut up, Diego." Lennarts command echoed off the walls.
"What? Have you swallowed your tongue? "
A few seconds later, a gentler voice spoke. "You'd better answer, you know what he'll do otherwise."
Felix Van Duinkercken The only one of three who’s never harmed me, but he never tried to get his two friends to stop either. For all I cared, he was as bad as the both of them.
"Well?? "
I opened my mouth, but all that came out was a frightened squeal, which was immediately received by loud laughter.
"What? So you’re a little piggy now too?"
I felt my throat tighten. My eyes darted anxiously back and forth, looking for an exit. As my heart rate skyrocketed, my heart felt like it was being squeezed by an invisible hand in my chest. I frantically shook no.
"No? If you ask me I’d think it was otherwise. You know what we do with filthy, dirty pigs?"
Alarm bells rung in my head, accompanying a fleeting feeling of amazement at not having had a cardiac arrest by now. My legs felt weak and my arms felt like lead. My stomach churned unpleasantly. The world slowed as I saw Lennart’s lips form the words ‘We wash them’, then merging into an icy smile. Before I knew what was happening, Lennart and Diego had me pinned by my arms and legs. They lifted and carried me down the hall, towards the pool. I was numb, all my senses shut down. Somewhere in the distance, I heard Lennarts order to Felix to open the door. I was suddenly aware of the unmistakeable stench of chlorine surging through my nostrils and I woke up. I started screaming and kicking, trying to wrench myself from their iron grip. Tears ran down my cheeks and crashed onto the floor, just as I would crash into the water. I cried out as loud as I could, but they roughly pushed something into my mouth, smothering my screams. The pool was closing in, and then it suddenly went away again. I realised they were trying to throw me in as far as possible. I felt their hands let go of me, and for a brief moment, I could fly. As I hit the water, the alarms in my head exploded as I began to sink. I flailed my arms, trying frantically to grab the stairs in a desperate attempt to get back to the edge. It took all the effort in the world to keep my head above water, whilst there was but one thought running through my head, over, and over again. ‘I can’t swim.’

After what felt like hours, I felt my hand hit the edge of the pool. My hand shot up, looking for the top, pulling myself up and over the slippery surface. I rolled over onto my back, breathless. I took deep, laboured breaths that were cut short by the shadow of Lennart floating above me. His hands closed around my wrists as another pair closed around my ankles. The last thought to cross my mind was “Oh God, not again” as I was swung back and forth violently. Again, that brief moment of flight followed by the terrible embrace of the water. Slowly, I started slipping out of consciousness and everything went black. The last thing I remembered were the two large hands that lifted me out of the water and back onto dry land.

***

I had locked myself in my room with my curtains closed. I always felt safest in the dark. Thoughts of the pool haunted my mind. It had been two hours since I had been rescued. My mother couldn’t pick me up as she was working, and my father lived a good two hours away so I was left to fend for myself before being brought back home. Lennart managed to squirm out of trouble by telling my rescuers I had slipped and fallen into the water. I’m not sure if the rescuers believed him though. Lennart Claes, son of Anja Maerschalk, the nice, albeit a little bit small, woman who ran the candy shop at the corner of the street. Son of Eric Claes, the doctor who everyone loved. Inside my chest I felt these thoughts rekindle the fire and then exploding in a raging ball of hate. Lennart Claes, who causes me so much suffering. Lennart Claes, who never did anything wrong. Lennart Claes, the cause of my worries and sleepless nights. Lennart. Claes.

A chink of light traveled across my room eventually falling across my bed. My eyes followed its length as the crack of light widened in the darkness. It suddenly filled itself with a balloon shaped shadow.
"Andrew?" My mommy.
"Andrew, are you okay?" I looked at her and nodded.
"Want to talk?"
"No."
"Okay. Is there anything I can do? "
I shook my head.
"Oh ... We have steak and chips for dinner tonight. Are you hungry?”
Again I shook my head no.
"Well ... If you change your mind, I’ll leave it in the oven, just heat it up."
“Thanks mom."
"Good night boy."
I looked at the clock. Thirteen past six.
"Good night Mom."
The breach in the darkness closed, the crack withdrew. I waited a few seconds and walked to my nightstand. It was dark, but my surroundings were familiar. I counted the drawers with my fingers. I had the third drawer from above, and the fourth from the bottom. I pulled it open and pried the edges of the drawer’s bottom, eventually lifting it up and out. I fumbled at the rear of the drawer and pulled out my knife. I stuck it in my pocket, covered the secret compartment once more and slid the drawer shut. I loved that knife. The handle felt good in my hand, reassuring. I loved the sound it made when I clicked it open. I loved the curve of the blade and its’ steely bite. I loved the sense of power that coursed through my veins when I held it. But most of all, I loved the idea of using it against Lennart, Diego and Felix. I took the knife out of my pocket and clicked it open as I wondered what it would feel like to cut through flesh. Would it fel good? I despised myself for these dark thoughts that brought me down to their level, but I craved the sweet taste of revenge. If only I could take revenge! I could almost taste its sweetness and the bitter taste of conscience that followed. No, I wouldn’t hurt anyone, no matter what they did. I couldn’t. I clicked the knife shut, put it back in my pocket and opened the door. I threw a glance at the clock. Quarter to nine.
"Mum."
"Yes?"
"I’m going out."
"Okay. Do you want me to warm your dinner for when you get back?"
I hesitated a few seconds. Mum had never done me any harm. Should I tell her everything?? Eventually I nodded.
"If it’s not too much trouble."
"Of course not, my boy! Never too much to ask, not for my little boy. "
"I'm thirteen, Mom. I'm not a little boy. "
"Of course not son, I'm sorry. Go on, I’ll make sure your food is ready when you get back. "
I hesitated again in the doorway. For a moment, I wanted to tell her everything. I wanted to tell her about Lennart and his friends. That they were the reason that I had no friends and low grades. That they were the reason for my love of my secret knife. I turned away, I couldn’t. My mother had enough on her mind as it was, she needn’t concern herself with me any more than she already did.
“Thanks mom. I’ll be home as soon as I can.”
"Take all the time you need, I’ll be here when you come back. "
I closed the door behind me. We lived on the seventh floor and I had vertigo. Even
on the stairs, I didn’t look down because of the wide gaps between the stairs. My gaze focused on the wall straight ahead, I descended. Sixty-seven steps in total. I walked quickly down the hall and pulled the door open. It was dark outside and although it was still autumn there was already at least half an inch of snow. I deliberately walked on the uncleared paths, loving the sound that the snow made under my feet. The soft crunch was pleasant and with every step I sank deeper. Lost in thought, I did not realise that I had arrived at the nest. The fourteen minutes it took to walk there had passed so quickly. The nest was a small, deserted underground bunker in the park where someone had left behind some worn-out furniture, a television, an old radio and a lamp. The walls were plastered with graffiti and there were small gaps in the walls on some places, but I’d always take the time to cover them. In one of the four corners were a few blood stains, but they were long dried up. I had covered them as best I could with a mat.
Although the furniture was old and worn, they were still comfortable. The TV was broken, but the radio still worked. Sometimes I’d put it on and listen to the news or some music as I sank into the seats. I could sit there for hours and time would fly. It wouldn’t be the first time that my mother would phone me to ask where I was. The nest wasn’t large – 5 by 7 metres – yet it was the only place where I felt safe and worry-free. I had been coming here since I was eleven, and the only change I had made in those two years was covering the bloodstains with the carpet.
I fell back into the seat and curled myself up into a ball. I stayed that way for a few minutes, before the first tear rolled down and fell off of my cheek. The small drop of salty water travelled slowly down to my jaw and hung, suspended for a brief moment before falling to the floor. I watched it fall down and explode into a thousand tiny fragments. It wasn’t long before it was joined by many, many more. With wet cheeks, I eventually fell into a dreamless sleep.

A loud thud echoed through the nest, followed by a string of curses. It took a few moments before I realised the seat had fallen over. I picked myself up and looked at my mobile. It was past ten o clock and there were no messages from my mom.I stared at the back of the seat, so full of scratches, and decided to go home. I stared at the entrance to the nest, then reached into my pocket for my knife, flicking it open. It was beautiful. I looked again to the entrance of the nest, a hatch hidden deep between the bushes and the trees of the park. It was perfectly camouflaged and the best place to hide. I had added a roof of leaves and branches, so you could only have seen the hatch from above, and only if you knew what you were looking for.
Right next to the hatch was a tall birch, which had been there as long as I could remember. I looked back to the knife, and swung it deep into the tree’s trunk. A piece of bark flew off as I wrenched the blade out before stabbing it into the tree again. Each time, I hit the tree harder, dragging the blade down, creating deep grooves in its trunk. I stabbed over and over, until all of the pent-up anger of the day dissolved. Panting, I lowered the knife and looked at the havoc I had wrought. Thick drops of tree sap seeped out of the wounds I’d inflicted. Bits of bark laid on the floor. Staring at the tree, I almost wept for the pain I had caused it. With a sick feeling in my stomach, I exited the nest and walked back home.
The smell of steak wafted over me as I turned the key in the lock and swung the door open. I realised just how hungry I was and my mouth watered. I could just see the light from the fire dancing on the walls of the kitchen.
"Mom?" I tried cautiously.
"Are you back?" Quite a stupid question, if you ask me.
"Yes." I hung my coat and went into the kitchen. Mom looked over at me.
"You okay?"
"Sure, no problem."
"Good, that was all that I wanted to hear. Are you hungry?"
I nodded.
"Well, I'm almost done. If you set the table, I’ll bring the food out in a minute."
"Thanks mom." The short laugh of my mother resounded the kitchen.
"You're welcome, my boy."
I pulled open the cupboard and took a plate, some cutlery and a
glass. I then walked to the refrigerator and grabbed something to drink. Eventually, I sat down at the table. Moments later, my mom came in and put the salad bowl down. She went into the kitchen and came back with the potatoes and the pan with the beef.
"Thanks." Mama looked at me and tilted her head and smiled, as only mothers can. She kissed me on my forehead, whispered in my ear that she was going to bed. Wishing me a good meal, she disappeared into her room. I started eating.

In the morning, I woke up to loud noises from the floor above. Our upstairs neighbours, or the upsiders, as my mother called them. They were called Mr and Mrs. Slaegers, sixty-four and sixty years old. They quarrelled at least twice a week which meant nobody in the building got to sleep. From dawn to dusk they would bicker and often would you see a plate or a pan fly out the window.
I pulled the duvet over my head and drew comfort in the fact that they were soon to move out of the flat. Almost all their neighbouring residents complained about the noise but the landlord never did anything about it. When they had announced their plan to move, nobody could really say they were sorry to see them gone. Groaning, I stepped out of bed and got dressed. I put on some trousers and went downstairs to make myself breakfast. I was about to make myself a sandwich, when I realized I wasn’t wearing a shirt. Being unable to find a T-shirt in my room. There was nothing in my closet or near my bed, so I grabbed a freshly washed shirt out of the laundry and returned to buttering my toast. It was Wednesday, so I only had three periods to get through before school ended at lunchtime. I got ready and put on my coat, swinging my backpack onto my back. My school was
a mere seven minutes' walk from my home, so I was always on foot. As I closed the door, I realised that my knife was still in my pocket. I went back into the house, up the stairs and to my nightstand. I pulled my drawer open, removed the false bottom and hastily put the knife at the back, under some junk before replacing it and shutting the drawer.
Outside, a police car drove past with sirens blaring. A few seconds later, a second and third police car went past. I hurried back out, hoping to catch a glimpse of the cars but was too late. I resumed walking to my school. When i got to the street my school was on, I saw the three police cars parked on the opposite side. Though curious, I walked past them, turning my head slightly to examine them. The first police car was ordinary, the normal ones you see driving around. The second was larger, a small van with a grille between the front and the back. The third vehicle was the largest, bigger than the second van. The first two vehicles were empty, but in the third sat a policeman. He had a serious look on his face and was in heavy discussion with one of the agents.
“Like what you see?” said a voice behind me.
I jumped, almost colliding with another agent. I looked at his gun and swallowed.
"No sir, I'm sorry. I was just wondering what happened. You just drove past my house so I was curious."
The agent looked at me sadly. “Well, you’ll find out soon enough. Here, take this”. He held out a pack of tissues. I Hesitated.
“Take it, don’t worry.”
I carefully took the packet from his hands. “Thank you sir”. I stared at his still-sad expression.
"No problem. Now, get inside quickly or you’ll catch your death of cold”.
"Yes sir. ". The agent nodded and stepped aside, pulling the car door open. The wind blew fragments of a conversation my way.
“Someone who murders children is certainly able to take...”
The door slammed shut.

Throughout the school day, rumours abounded about what had happened. In second period, we finally got to hear the truth. In a village not far from ours, a nine year old had been killed. The body had been drained of blood, and the girl had had two puncture wounds on her neck. Rumour had it that the police believed it was the work of a cult dedicated to vampires.
“I want you all to know that your safety is our highest priority. From today onwards, there will be two units stationed at the school gates for your protection. I want to ensure you that the chances of the murderer coming here are extremely slim, but we will not be taking any risks. If anyone has any information on what has occurred, please come forward. We are here to help you, and anything you know can help us progress with our investigation.”
As the policeman stopped speaking, the room filled with an excited buzz. Lennart raised his hand and the officer stared at him, a hush falling over the room.
"Yes, young man?"
"Sir, when we encounter the killer, would it be wrong to kill him?"
The officer eyed him warily. “As terrible as his deeds may be, it would be extremely dangerous, not to mention extremely stupid for you to attack or try to murder this killer. Murder is murder, regardless of who does it, and the result will be an immediate arrest.”
I knew then for sure that Lennart was up to something. Before I could muse on what he was up to, Mrs. Mansworth intervened.
“Lennart, this is not something to joke about. If you have something to say, then let it be of significance”.
Lennart cursed under his breath before offering up a “Yes ma’am, I’m sorry, ma’am.”
Liliana raised her hand.
"What is it, Liliana?" asked Mrs. Mans.
"Ma'am, how can you be sure that he is not here right now? Should we take more precautions?” The fear in her voice was unmistakeable. The officer looked to Mrs. Mansworth, who nodded. He looked back at Liliana.
"Liliana, right?" She nodded.
"Well, Liliana, we have here four officers on standby day and night. We have multiple officers working the case and investigating the entire area. I assure you it will not be long before we catch this killer.”.
"But ... What if he comes after us while we are going home?" asked Liliana, her voice trembling.
"There are constant patrols throughout the village and all neighboring villages. It is unlikely that he will try anything during the day with much of the public being up and about. We also have night patrols and would like to assure you that you are safe as can be”.
“But your protection is not enough. Someone capable of murdering a nine year old girl is entirely capable of taking the bus with us without you knowing who it is!”. Unfortunately, this of course I had said out loud, and as a result, Mrs. Mansworth gave me a week’s detention for ‘attempting to raise panic among the pupils’.
For the rest of the day, all anyone could talk about was the murder. When I got home, I was surprised to see my mother. I asked her what she doing home so early, and she told me that she was going to pick me up after school until the killer was arrested.
“Aww, mom! You can’t be serious?”
“I don’t want to hear it, Andrew! Someone who can kill children is certainly capable of taking the buss a few stops! I don’t want you taking public transport, and I’ll be driving you to the school every day from tomorrow and pick you up after at the gates. I don’t want you leaving the house after dark, either”.
"But ..."
"No buts,"
I sighed defeated. "May I at least play in the courtyard?"
She bit her lip thoughtfully, and I waited anxiously for her answer.
"Well ... The courtyard cannot hurt, I suppose. All right. But stay in the gates, or you’re grounded for a month!" I knew arguing wouldn’t work here, so I sighed, admitting defeat.
"Yes, mom."
"Good. Now go do your homework, I’ll call you down when dinner is ready.”
***

Coming when I feel like translating :p