The next couple of days are strange. Mum still makes sure I’m still being punished, but they seemed distracted my something else. A morbid atmosphere set upon the place as if someone died, but last time I’d checked, I had all my family members accounted for. There was no idle chatter about random life stuff Grace seems to find to talk about, no celebrity gossip or politics stuff I never understand between Mum and Mitchel. If it wasn’t something important, silence settled on the house. There’s something they’re not telling me.

On one occasion I caught them talking in them in the laundry room, I was returning to bedroom exile from a well-earned snack break, when hushed tones caught my attention. Mum wasn’t far off tears and Mitchel was whispering to her discretely, so I only caught snippets of conversation.

“how could he do something like that to his own children?”

“it’s the sort of man he is. So selfish!” Mum cried, I couldn’t see from where I was hiding but I could imagine hot tears streaming down her face. Who were they talking about? Was it our dad? Mum never mentioned him. We don’t even know his name. All we know, is that he was a bad man and that he’s dead. “Mitch, I don’t think I could take it if he took her too. And Carlos… What he takes them both? I barely survived the twins, I couldn’t take it if it happened again!” her voice breaks with every other word and Mitchel sooths her in his arms.

My ears pricked at the sound of my name. I felt like I was hearing something I shouldn’t be hearing, but I was curious to understand the strange behaviour and hushed tones.

“Then we do something about it

“That man is a demon!” she spat. “He’s evil! I can’t trust him again!”

“Then what do we do? How do we help her?”

“I don’t know Mitch! I hate that man to the bottom of my soul!” she buried her face in his chest. “But I love my daughter more.”

“We just have to be prepared.”

“I don’t know how we can prepare for a man like that.”

“We have to try and pray to God that we’ve done right.”

“pray to God for forgiveness more like.” she sighed, but her hysteria had settled, replaced with a depressed determination to what they’d decided.

“We’re in this together for better or for worse.” He comforted her.

I didn’t understand what I heard. Was my dad a serial killer or something? Was something wrong with Grace? With the both of us? I didn’t know what to make of it, what to make of anything. It was weird you know? Seeing your parents that scared when you always saw them as strong, you finally see that they’re only human. I always knew they were only human, but it scared me to see them like that. What could possibility be so bad? What does she mean she “couldn’t take it if it happened again?” Through what? Whose twins? Damn, everything was so confusing. 

A week before my punishment was scheduled to end, I get an unexpected visit, and they end my punishment early. And who’s it that issues this free out of jail card? The last person I ever expected to talk to me ever again, much less end my punishment early.

During my punishment I often stretched out on my bed, feet hanging off the end, and drew some lame ass comic that would never see the light of day, god forbid. I wasn’t bad, if I did say so myself, but it wasn’t exactly a thing a guy like me wanted to get caught doing. But since I was stuck in my room with no PC, games or comics, there wasn’t much I could do.

One of those days, I was finishing my first comic, SUPER PIG FIGHTS BACK- ok, so I’ll have to work on the name. When Grace walks in, I thought ignoring me had finally worn off, and she had come to gloat, so I snapped.

“Want some snot to go with your bogie?” I jabbed, of course by that time her hair was back to its original colour.

I expected her to snap back, but she didn’t. Then I saw her face, there was a look in her eyes, a look I had never seen her express, and it was clear it wasn’t just green hair that was bothering her. This look went deeper than the rage I caused, it was… fear, like mum she was scared, and it drove me crazy that they wouldn’t tell me what was going on, wouldn’t even acknowledge there was something going on.

“Has something happened? Is there something you’re not telling me? Has someone died?” I thought that was it, I thought someone had died and they hadn’t plucked up the courage to tell me.

But she shook her head, and I believed her, but as my words came out of my mouth, her eyes began to water, and I thought she was about to cry.

I was an idiot then, I may not have acted like it, but I did care about her, I cared about her feelings, even though I usually tried my hardest to hurt them. She was my only sister and I loved her. I got up and put my arm around her, “hey, what wrong, you know you can tell me anything, and it don’t matter, I won’t tell anyone.”

She shook her head and wiped a tear away from her eye. “Thanks, but I’m ok, you know, I...” I thought she was going to say more. She smiled, but with a smile like that she wasn’t fooling anyone, and it crushed me to see her like that, even though I didn’t know what was wrong.

“Anyway. Mums ended your punishment early, welcome to freedom.” She tried to sound upbeat, but there was a strain in her voice that betrayed her, there was something real wrong and this was as much proof as I needed. Mum would never end a punishment early, especially after her response to what I did; she’s to OCD to let me go that easily. She believed in punishment, and I knew under ordinary circumstances I would have served my time.

But there it was, I was free, I should have been happy, but I wasn’t, not knowing what was happening, mum, Grace, Mitchell all being that scared, it scared me too, and I don’t even know what of!

They were idiots to think I wouldn’t have picked up on it, and bigger idiots for thinking I wouldn’t have followed the trail. How they went about the house talking in low voices, only stopping when I came near, acting secretive every time I enter a room, that’s enough to give a guy a complex for the rest of his life! If anything, one thing this did do, was make it my job to find out what they were up to, and why they were so hell bent on keeping it a secret.

I hated not knowing things, being kept in the dark, and whatever it is, we’re better off facing it together, as a family. I was going to find out what was wrong, and I was going to help, if they liked it or not. 

“Remind me what you think of pantomime?” Mitchell voiced over the TV.

“Panto?” I look at him with disbelief. “That thing with men in drag? Please don’t tell me you want me to watch one.” I pleaded half-heartedly, then went back to watching Jeremy Kyle, it was a few seconds later I grew suspicious of why he was asking and studied him out of the corner of my eye.

“I thought so.” Relief seemed to seep onto his face like that was what he wanted to hear.

“Why?” I ask. “Why are you relieved?”

“Well, there’s a Cinderella performance going on down south, and Liam from work’s daughter is the producer and he got us free tickets, I can get you one too if you want, but I thought you wouldn’t want to, so I didn’t.”

“No, that’s ok; I’m fine without seeing men tights.” I smiled, besides I always had the songs stuck in my head for weeks after, and humming Chim Chim Cher-ee isn’t what you call very manly.

He grinned back, it could have been one of the only times he actually smiled in these past few days. I felt like I’ve just done exactly what he wanted, and played right into their plan, without even knowing why or how.

They said they were going to stay overnight in a hotel in Brighton, because the performance ended late, and it would be ‘easier’ that way. But I couldn’t help getting the impression that there was more to it than that.

“What hotel?” I ask

“Oh I don’t know, lady’s mile?” my parents never go anywhere without planning, so the questionable tone he gave was suspicious. my parents not knowing exactly the what, when, who and how, was unheard of, and just as likely as finding Michael Jackson in the flesh in our living room. I did what any responsible kid would do: I googled it.

I thought I spelt it wrong, but no, I didn’t, I double, and triple checked it. Ladies Mile Hotel, Brighton, England, doesn’t exist, it hasn’t for the past twenty years, it’s now storage space. If I didn’t think something was wrong before, I know now. There’s just too many things that were suspicious: my punishment ending early, Grace being nice, the conversation I heard in the laundry room and the bogus trip to Brighton. It’s just weird.

Maybe mum hadn’t told Mitchell the details yet? Maybe. I so hoped I was wrong about this whole thing.

I checked with Liam, his daughter is an accountant, and he had no idea what I was talking about, he just looked at me weirdly and carried on with his work muttering about time wasting youths. There was no Cinderella performance. The real question was- what are they doing on that Saturday night?

It was the first day of the holidays that the ‘pantomime’ was on. I didn’t ask them about my suspicions, the more time passed, the more I was convinced in was in my mind, life carried on a usual like nothing had happened, and I almost believed it was just stress, and I made a few mistakes on the computer, the pantomime wasn’t for another month, they mightn’t have put it on the internet yet and it’s quite possible there were two Liam’s at Mitchells work. But I don’t think I really believed it, even when I tried convincing myself that everything was normal, I knew deep down that something was wrong.

I told myself to stop worrying, there’s nothing to worry about, besides what can go wrong? It’s just pantomime.

That was enough to convince myself until the night arrived. Then all those things I told myself, all the logic and reason I tried to fill my mind with, went out of the window.

The sun had set hours ago, but the moon still wasn’t up, this time of year, the moon only rises for a few hours, and most of time it’s too cloudy anyway. But tonight, was a clear night and stars littered the sky despite the magnitude of light pollution in the city.

They dropped me off at aunt Vera’s, -she’s my mum’s sister, but they look nothing alike, for one thing she looks like she was born a century ago, her hair has long since gone grey, she’s died it continuously since she was twenty, so it’s gone dull and thin. She’s a lot skinner than mum, her cloths hang of her in places it shouldn’t and the clothes themselves are out of date since, well, before she was born.

Her house looks like any other from the outside, but inside we really could have stepped back in time, the whole house is antique, and most importantly she has no TV and only turn the radio on for the weather. It’s like walking into the Dark Ages!

She greets us at the car politely taking my bag, they did small talk which I didn’t bother listening to, and mum said they had to go, or they’ll be late.

Grace is in the back and hasn’t said a word, she looks like she’s close to crying, I wouldn’t know why, she’s on her way to a hotel for the night, without me whining in her ear, she should look happier.

Mum actually got out of the car and hugged me. She hugged me. She hasn’t hugged me in years; it’s an unwritten rule not to hug your children in public after the age of nine, so this was an important occasion. In fact everyone said goodbye, god you’re only going over night, and it’s not like I’m not going to see you again.

Grace almost burst out crying on my shoulder as she said goodbye, also hugging me.

I knew it wasn’t just a mum worrying about her son; there was something more to it, and my time was up to figure it all out. My curiosity nagged at me to ask, but I didn’t, I’d know they’d switch off and tell me in a monotone voice that everything is fine.

But then they were gone, I watched them go till I couldn’t see them anymore, feeling suddenly very alone.

I followed Vera inside, and she put the kettle on. That’s what she usually did, like some sort of ritual when someone comes round or something.

She came back from the kitchen with two steaming cups of tea. I didn’t really like it much but took it anyway. I just stared into the cup at the duty brown liquid that it contained.

“It’ll be alright, in the end they’ll make it through.” She says.

“What?” I suddenly looked up; they’re just going to watch pantomime, of course they’ll be alright why wouldn’t they be?

She looked at me strangely. “Don’t you know?” she says like some cheap fortune teller at the circus.

“Don’t I know what?” I asked suddenly interested in what she had to say, but also dreading the answer. “They haven’t gone to a pantomime, have they?”

She shook her head sullenly.

“What’s happened? Tell me, please.” I begged, I knew from the way she shook her head that it wasn’t good, and for the first time I wasn’t sure if I wanted her to answer, but I didn’t stop her. The tea laid on the table, forgotten, all my attention on Vera for the first time in years.

“oh dear," she muttered.

“What is it? Tell me. For god’s sake tell me!” I almost scream. For the first-time in... Well, ever, all my attention was on her. I’d never been so interested in what she had to say, and she shifted uncomfortably with the intensity of my stare.

“If your mother did not wish to tell you, then I cannot say.” She shook her head and tutted to herself.

“Please, tell me.” I begged almost crying myself.

With a look of pity in her eyes and a little resistance, she explained.