Hidden Behaviours

This is my home. My town. In a beautiful, peaceful town like this...what can happen?

Everyday, at exactly 3 PM, the town’s bell tower rang; as I looked out the wooden framed window of Papa’s store. A cold breeze drifted through the window cracks, indicating the arrival of autumn; as it nipped at the tips of my toes through the holes in my socks. The soft curtain fluttered back and forth almost representing the peaceful neighbourhood we live in.  

I lived right above Papa’s tailor business. Just Papa and me. Papa alters rich people’s clothes and they give him money. I’m only a little boy, but I know when the clothes are for rich people. I’ve been helping Papa ever since I was born. I know all about different fabrics but, I don’t know how to write or read. But even though rich people came, we didn’t make much money. At least, that’s what Papa told me.

A few minutes after the bell tower rang, I always saw the same blue-uniformed school boys, around my age of 9 years, laughing on their way home from school. As I wore my ragged, mismatched clothes made from excess cloth and pieced together by leftover thread, I thought about them; about how they could go to school, how they could laugh with friends, and how they came to our store to fix their uniform.   

“JOHNNY! GET OVER HERE RIGHT NOW!”, yelled Papa.  

“Yes Papa!”, I scrambled down the wooden stool and ran into the room with the old sewing machinery.  

“Stop being useless. You don’t have time to look outside and daydream,” Papa scolded.  

“Yes Papa.”

“Do your job. The thread got stuck in the machine. Get it out. Now.”

“Yes Papa.”   

Holding my breath, I hurried to the machine and started taking it apart. Papa let out a loud, annoyed sigh, scraped the chair back against the wooden floor and stomped upstairs. Peeking to make sure he’s gone, I finally let out a breath.

“Whew, it’s only a jammed thread,” I thought, “thank goodness it’s not something as bad as usual.”

Stomps. Heart pounding. Afraid. 

My heart was pounding out of my chest, pounding so heavily, my ears filled with the noise. I moved my little fingers through the gears as quickly as possible, but the thread was really stuck. Suddenly, Papa stumbled back into the room, slamming his beer onto the table.

Papa yelled, “STILL NOT DONE?! YOU’RE A WASTE OF TIME! YOU ARE HERE FOR ONE REASON ONLY. YOUR SMALL HANDS ARE ALL I NEED. I CAN REPLACE YOU ANYTIME!”   

With my head down, tears started to flow down my face as I tried to pull even harder. “Come on, please...come loose already,” I pleaded in thought.

Papa staggered towards me, raising his arm. I took a sharp breath in and braced myself for the strike, as I continued to pull and plead for the thread to come out.

“YOU’RE NOT GONNA DO YOUR JOB PROPERLY? I’ll make you wish you never….”

*POP* The thread came loose! “YES! IT CAME OUT!” I celebrated for a split second, with my head still down and body still braced. Papa put his arm down and kicked me to the side, leaving the room in a stumble, he muttered under his breath, “useless piece of meat”.  

I let out the longest breath and sigh in relief. Still afraid of Papa returning, I quickly pulled the rest of the thread out, rethreaded the machinery, and put the parts back together.

A few days later, in the mid-day, Papa said he left to purchase new sewing materials. Afraid of being scolded for being useless, I decided to wash the floor. I started scrubbing the floor clean, creating a trail of suds and water.

Soon after I started, Papa barged through the front door. Staggering, wavering, wobbling, and faltering. He was drunk. Mid-day. Again. I was immediately stricken with fear. “No...not again,” I pleaded in thought. Papa stumbled past me, through the store and headed for the stairs. Realizing he had left the door open, I moved towards it. But forgetting the trail of suds and water, I slipped and kicked the bucket of water over, making a ruckus. I froze. Papa grunted and turned around.

“What’s the noise?” he mumbled.

“Nothing, Papa. I will clean it up.”

In such a difficult time like this, I really wish I had someone to tell me to hang in there ...

I sluggishly awoke with my head pounding. I lifted my head, and I saw blood, dripping from my face. Jolting up from the shocking sight, I immediately winced; pain ran throughout my entire body. Looking down, there were large bluish-green spots and bloody cuts all over every limb. Glancing around, there was shattered glass and a baseball bat. Suddenly, I remembered all the other times I was left alone, in this state. In my own home, I would be left injured, all alone.  

*DING DONG*

I took a sharp breath in. The bell tower! It was 3 PM! Lying on the cold wooden floor, I looked out the door Papa left open. “Oh! The school boys will see me and help me,” I thought. Sure enough, I heard them walking and laughing. Just then, they came into view of the open door.

“H--el--p me,” I muttered.

Upon seeing the scene, they whispered to each other, and ran away.

Closing my eyes and resting my head on the cold, wet floor, I thought, “That was it. That was my chance.” A single tear rolled down my cheek.

A few minutes later, I heard footsteps running down the concrete road. Then suddenly, a well-dressed woman in her mid 30s bursted through the doorway and rushed to me.

“My darling, are you okay!?!” she exclaimed.  

“W--ho are you?” I muttered.

“I’m going to help you! Don’t worry!”

“But---,” my voice trailed off as I blacked out.

When I awoke again, I was tucked into a large, soft bed in a spacious, clean, well-furnished bedroom with the same woman sitting next to the bed, with her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands.

“W--ho are you?” I quietly asked.

She suddenly lifted her head, “Oh my, thank goodness you’re okay!” reaching out to me.

“Johnny.”

“What? How does she know my name?” I thought.

“I know you’re shocked right now, but, it’s only right that I tell you now.”

“Tell me what? I don’t know you lady…,” I questioned in thought.

“I am...your mother.”  

“WHAT?! MOTHER?! BUT PAPA TOLD ME SHE DIED??” I exclaimed in thought.

“I know your Papa said I died before you were born, but that’s not true. I’m your real mother.”  

“My mother? H--how?”

“Your Papa and I dated a long time ago. I got pregnant but I didn’t want to marry Papa. I was going to give you up...but Papa insisted on you be born. I didn’t have any money when you were born, so Papa kept you instead.”

I was speechless.

“Johnny, I know you’re confused and this is a lot for you. But at that time, I was young and scared. I’ve been trying to get back to you ever since, but Papa never let me near you. I know Papa has been doing horrible things to you and I hated myself for not being able to save you.”

“You knew? Then now what? Papa won’t let me leave the house.”

“No. I will make it happen. Johnny, tell me honestly. Do you want to leave that place? Do you want to come live with me?”

Without much thought, I quietly answered, “yes, please save me.”

That was all she needed to hear, “Trust me Johnny, everything will be okay.”   

For the next few weeks, I stayed in Mama’s home. Trained by Papa, I never left the home. He said there were many bad, scary things outside, to never go and to be afraid. I soon realized, those were lies that Papa told me so I would never leave him and I would depend on him.

Every day, I became more comfortable with Mama. Thankfully, Papa never came. She spent time taking care of my wounds, talking to me and cooking food for me. This was the first time I ever felt, loved. “This is what it feels like. This is what a family, a home really is,” I thought.

A few weeks later, during dinner, I asked, “Mama, how did you know I was there that day?”

“I didn’t, I saw the group of school boys run past me on the street and I just got a feeling that you were in trouble.”

Agatha Christie

Now, Mama and I are able to comfortably explore the outside world together, just like this.

Through everything, I learned that your present situation does not define your future or what can happen. These are motivational phrases that I now live by...