Corpse Flower

III. Psychological Manipulation

Sophia’s POV:

I didn’t expect my birthday to end this way - wet and terrified.

“Arlo. He is your younger brother, correct?” The officer asks.

“Yes, he is,” Jake responds.

“Last time you saw him?”

“This morning. He was still sleeping in bed.”

The officer looks at me, “And you?”

I fold my slightly damp shirt up. After realizing that Arlo may have gotten kidnapped, I called parents who I usually asked to take him home. None of them took Arlo back. “I dropped him off at school this morning. It was closed when I came to pick him up.”

Someone walked into our kitchen, “I called the teacher. She said that someone who knew the older sister came and picked him up.”

I shook my head, “I didn’t tell anyone to pick him up.” I bit my lower lip, “I really didn’t tell anyone.” I’m afraid for Arlo, but I’m also afraid of the man beside me. If the police officers aren’t here, Jake would’ve gone haywire. “Can you please search for him? He must still be close.”

The police officers exchange looks, “We cannot send out a search party until the victim is filed missing for more than 24 hours.” How ridiculous. A small child. A little bean is missing, and they said they couldn’t do anything until a day passed.

After a day, Arlo could disappear from this world.

The police officer continued to talk, informing us of our next step. I couldn’t hear anything. All I heard is the sound of sirens outside. The sound of sirens slowly fade. Then, it arrives, a scream—an all too familiar one.

It’s me.

The moment the officers leave me, I’ll be receiving the worst beating in my life. A beating that makes me wish I was dead. But I deserve it. I was the one who lost Arlo. I should’ve asked one of the parents to pick him up instead of waiting it out.

Maybe, this is fate. Die the day I was born. And after this, I may see Arlo in heaven.

I can’t believe I’m thinking of such a thing—a thought where I’m content with death. I must be going crazy.

I look down at the prune hands—the shaky prune hands with chipped paints. Before the incidents, my nails used to be beautiful. Neatly filed. Neatly painted.

“Soph?” I am going crazy. I hear Arlo’s voice. “Soph?” I look up from my lap to see Arlo standing from across the room in his pajamas.

There’s a rush of relief running over me. I ran towards Arlo and gave him the tightest embracement.

“Soph? What’s wrong?” Arlo asks.

After the initial relief, the fear arrives.

I inhaled a sharp breath and forced out a smile, “Nothing. I’m just glad you’re fine.” I sound convincing, right? Enough to show the police that there’s nothing wrong with us. Enough to show them that we’re an average family. Enough to convince Jake that everything can be forgiven.

After some heavy sighs from the cops and a few words of advice, they left.

In the living room, I held Arlo close to my chest.

“Soph?”

The front door closes.

“Soph? Am I in trouble?”

Footsteps in the hallway.

“I’m sorry for leaving. It was cold.”

Then, slippers halted in front of us.

“Tell me,” Jake said. There wasn’t any anger in his voice. It’s scary when there isn’t any anger. “What happened?”

“J-Jake-”

"Not you,” Jake responds.

I close my mouth.

Arlo fidgets on my lap, “I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t ask for an apology. I ask: What happened?”

Arlo swallowed, “I was waiting for Sophia, but then it got cold. My friend’s house was near, and he asked me to go with him. I told my teacher that his mom knows Sophia, and she will call her.”

“And why didn’t she?”

His gaze drops down onto the ground, “I forgot Soph’s number.”

“And how did you get back?”

“His mom took me home.” This place isn’t home, not now, at least. “And I fell asleep in Sophia’s closet.”

“And why were you in her closet?”

“I wanted to surprise Sophia when she comes home. Show her that I went home all by myself.” His nails click against each other. “Sophia usually goes home at this time before she goes and picks me up.”

That’s my usual routine. But, today, I had a made-up lecture, so I stayed in school a bit longer.

“Jake,” I said. “Can we just forget about this?” I’m not going to ask for a cell phone for Arlo anymore. This is more important. “It’s my birthday.”

Jake exhales slowly, “Alright.”

I swallow the lump inside my throat. I’ve never been so grateful to be born on this day.

Arlo smiles, “I’ll get the cake!” He rushes towards the kitchen. Before another word can be said, I heard a loud plop. I ran into the kitchen to see the cake all over the ground with Arlo on top of it.

“Are you okay?” I asked. I ran towards him and brushed the cake off his knees. The white cake turned red. My eyes cast towards the slippers in the kitchen. They’re my slippers. “I’m sorry. I forgot to put it-”

Before I can finish my sentence, Jake slapped Arlo’s face. “You’re always causing trouble. First, you made your sister cry, and now, you ruined her birthday.”

Arlo’s small body twitches uncontrollably on the floor, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Jake kicked him in the stomach. Arlo held his head and curled his body inward. An action that’s second nature to him.

And as I watch the horrific scenery in front of me, the memory of the same night flood inside my mind. It was a night like this one. Dark. Rainy. Cold.

Different from tonight, that night, I woke up to the sound of breaking glass. Mom’s hands were tightly wrapped around Jake’s neck. Then, there’s a voice. It was me. I was crying for mom to stop. Her hand slapped hard across my face.

Mom’s abuse stops after the divorce.

I got the short end of the stick, and she got custody of me. What a terrific country we live in. A country where a parent can abuse their children, but can still fight for custody rights.

Mom promised in court that she’d change.

She did.

Never once did she hit me after Jake and dad left.

But, then she died.

And Jake took over her seat.

How funny.

What a terrible twist in life.

Before I can organize my thoughts, I rush towards Jake. He slapped me across the face, and I fell on the floor. I crawled towards Arlo and covered his body with my own.

After one kick, Jake stopped. He exhaled a sharp breath, “Get off of him.”

More adrenaline floods into my system and my heart feels like it will explode. Every inch of my body tells me to run, to escape. But instead, I remain where I am. I shake my head.

“Leave!”

I continued to shake my head.

“Leave!”

“No!” I screamed. “You told me to watch him, and I’m going to watch him!”

“Why are you so stupid! He’s not even your real-” Jake’s hands curl inward, “Do whatever you want.” He rushes out of the room.

Sometimes, I like to believe that there’s still a part of Jake’s past left. Buried deep inside and moments like this, it rushes out. It’s a foolish belief.

“Soph?” I look down to see Arlo’s bruised face. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for dropping your cake.” I can’t believe he’s still concerned about the birthday cake after receiving a beating.

I wipe the blood from his cheek, “It’s my fault. I forgot my slippers there. Don’t worry.” I carried him in my arms.

After I treated Arlo’s wound, I went downstairs to clean the cake. The kitchen was spotless, and there was another cake and a neatly wrapped gift on the table.

Whip.

Carrot.

Psychological manipulation.

“Soph?”

I look up from the neatly decorated cake.

Arlo wrapped his small arms around me, “My tummy doesn’t feel good.”

I held a hand on his forehead. He’s burning up. “Let’s go upstairs. I’ll make you some-” Arlo’s body dropped down. I caught him in my arms. “Arlo? Arlo?” I shook him a little, but he didn’t move.

My eyes cast towards the stairs, and my lips parted. Nothing came out. I should call Jake. Tell him to take us to the hospital. Then, the memories resurface.

No. I can’t bother him.

I carry Arlo in my arms and search for the car keys.

It’s in Jake’s room.

Arlo’s body temperature only increases.

Bailee.

I can bike to her house and ask her to take us to the hospital.

If she asks why Jake couldn’t take us, I can lie and say Jake is working late. It’s believable—a young man working late to feed his two younger siblings.

But, how would I explain the bruises?

How?

How?

How?!