#18

The child had a history of frequent and severe abuse in foster homes.

They had become numb to being hit and had believed that even if their body hurt, their heart had grown callouses. But seeing today, the child conceded that perhaps that wasn’t the case.

For the first time in a long while—or perhaps for the very first time—the child burst into tears from the sorrow and hurt.

“Whe… re… where… sob… you told me… to… sob… stay here…”

The child leaned their cheek against the shoulder of Tennessee, who was stingily silent. The tears would not stop. They were simply miserable. After being held in Tennessee’s arms, the sorrow only grew more intense. The child wailed loudly.

They were a child who had always hidden in closets, sobbing silently in some corner of the house. The violent sobbing broke out helplessly, making all their previous suppression meaningless.

Feeling a hand lightly patting their back, the wailing child looked up. Tennessee was holding them silently with his usual expression.

“The… sob… men, they—”

“I know.”

Tennessee answered, cutting off the child’s gasping words. Leaving the car behind, Tennessee roughly pushed the corpse into a drain next to the vacant lot.

There just happened to be a drain near the car. What a strange coincidence, the child thought, even while tears dripped down. Tennessee’s tone was as calm as usual, and the child gradually calmed down.

Tennessee opened the rear door. The seats were a mess due to the broken window. Clicking his tongue, Tennessee opened the passenger door and tightened his grip on the child’s back. However, the child quickly shook their head.

“I don’t want to. I won’t let go.”

“Let go.”

“I don’t want to. You left me behind. I almost got kidnapped because you left me.”

“I have to move that into the car, so let go.”

The child’s eyes dropped to the ‘that’ Tennessee was pointing at. It was one of the kidnappers Tennessee had shot.

“You can just push him into the drain like the other one.”

“That one isn’t a corpse.”

Hiccup.

The child, who had thought they were all dead until a moment ago, hiccupped. As if to prove Tennessee’s words, a faint groan was heard.

“I still don’t want to.”

The child spoke stubbornly. They tightened their grip around Tennessee’s neck and rested their chin on his shoulder. Another sigh brushed past. Though they held their breath for fear of being scolded, the child felt wronged. Not just their cheek, but their shoulders, legs, and arms all stung and throbbed. They might not even be able to wake up tomorrow. Yet Tennessee was trying to make them let go.

“If you listen to me, you won’t want to be held.”

The child shook their head while still clinging. The firm arms supporting them. An embrace like a solid fortress, felt for the first time. How could they possibly reject such a presence?

Closing the passenger door, Tennessee leaned against the car.

“I knew you were going to be kidnapped.”

Holding the child with one arm, Tennessee took out a cigarette with the other. The child stared blankly as his lips closed and a red light ignited. The cigarette, its tip soaked in fire, suddenly looked like a fuse burning away.

“I left you here so they would kidnap you. You were bait.”

Just as when they were slapped on the cheek, their thoughts stopped for a moment. For a brief second, sound vanished as if a bomb had gone off nearby, before reality rushed back.

The child leaned weakly against Tennessee’s shoulder.

“Get down. Get down and be angry. I’ll listen.”

As he opened the passenger door and lowered his upper body, the child’s grip loosened weakly. The child sat in the passenger seat. They buckled the seatbelt mechanically.

Tennessee didn’t look long at the child, whose expression had been washed away, and turned around. He opened the back door and moved the groaning man with a careless touch. The man, whose skin had been roughly sliced by broken glass, let out a faint moan. Tennessee searched his waist, took the gun, and bound both hands with zip ties. The sound of duct tape ripping. The child only listened to Tennessee’s swift movements.

‘I knew you were going to be kidnapped.’

…And yet, no tears came.

After covering the bloodstains to erase the evidence, Tennessee soon climbed into the driver’s seat.

The engine started, and the car began to vibrate lightly. The dark surrounding lot blurred. The car moved not very fast. The child couldn’t gather their senses.

“…Why did you do that?”

The child barely managed to squeeze out the words.

“Because someone targeted you to lure me out.”

“What was the plan?”

“I planned to tail them once you were kidnapped. To find out where the person targeting me was staying.”

“…But I wasn’t kidnapped.”

“I guess so.”

Soon they were in a tunnel. A feeling of floating, as if pouring into another world, cut off from reality. Yellow lights poured from both sides of the rounded ceiling. The vision was covered in orange light. A strange sound echoed.

“Why didn’t you just leave me? You said you planned to let them kidnap me.”

“…Just because.”

The child shed tears intermittently. Unlike the outburst from before, the tears flowed quietly down their cheeks. In the familiar silence, the child only hid their tears.

A cigarette was held between the fingers of Tennessee’s hand as he opened the window. The child buried their face in their palms. Tennessee, Tennessee! They had screamed like that. He must have seen that helpless state. Like gauging the inside of an oven and watching the timer, he must have waited for their pain. It was miserable.

“–.”

At the short syllable, the sobbing child looked up. They couldn’t hear it well. But Tennessee did not speak again. Was it an apology? The child came up with a plausible assumption. Yes, it was probably an apology. If not, what else would he say?

The moment that thought occurred, the child felt an intense sense of betrayal and anger, as if their vision were burning red. To make me like this, and all it takes is a simple apology? To push me into predicted pain and then just say sorry? Just as the child was about to scream in a type of anger they had never experienced…

Then suddenly, the images of those who had collapsed like stringless dolls consumed their mind.

They remembered hearing rough breathing when they had been holding their breath in silence, curling their body to protect themselves somehow.

Tennessee had been panting. Even he had moments where his composure broke, with rough inhalations and exhalations of a limit reached. And it was because of them.

Even though he clearly said he planned to let them be kidnapped, he had come back. Again. For the child. The child shook their head.

“Then, is Tennessee okay now?”

“Who knows. I’ll have to find out now.”

The child realized that Tennessee had changed the plan, and because of that, things had become more complicated than before. And they thought of the reason why he had twisted the plan. Before venting anger blindly, the child revealed one last hope.

“What would have happened if I had died?”

In the silent car, the child waited for an answer. Tennessee, tossing away the cigarette butt, replied curtly.

“That wouldn’t have happened.”

Idiot. The child screamed that at themselves. Tennessee was a person who had thrown them away as bait, haphazardly. What was the point of picking them up again? He was someone who might throw them away at any time, and they had realized they were merely an expendable existence to him. Yet, the boiling rage was gradually subsiding.

They were definitely an idiot. A fool who deserved to be treated this way. Is there any bigger pushover than this? But…

“Are you going to use me as bait this time too?”

“No.”

“What about in the future?”

“…I won’t.”

The words continuing to come from Tennessee felt clearly like a continuing apology. Perhaps they were indeed a fool, and despite those words, he might push them into it again, but…

Suddenly, the child felt that it might not matter.

Because of his presence, having rushed back despite leaving them alone, they found themselves indulging in a mindless optimism—that even if there were a next time, it wouldn’t end the same way, and he would hold and comfort them.

Is this resignation? The child, accustomed to giving up, thought blankly. They were a child accustomed to giving up and collapsing, exhausted by the absurd treatment they received. However, the child recognized that this felt like a strange emotion, rather than a powerless surrender.

“That’s why I told you not to trust people.”

Unlike usual, Tennessee’s voice lacked the strength that usually cut things off instantly. This was definitely an apology in Tennessee’s own way. Although Tennessee himself didn’t apologize, the child became convinced of it.

“…Then can I trust Tennessee now?”

“…No.”

“I’ll trust you anyway.”

The child stubbornly looked forward. It was a misfortune you created, but didn’t you rescue me?

The child intended to remember only that hand of salvation.

They had endured reasonless violence throughout. They were like a plastic cup used to spit out the brown juice of chewed tobacco. Were they crazy? Even so, they couldn’t bring themselves to hate Tennessee.

* * *

The place where Tennessee stopped the car was a shabby warehouse. There were two old sofas and one steel chair. Since there wasn’t a single spot that didn’t hurt, the child lay on the sofa. They curled up, fearing that moans of pain would keep leaking out. Slowly, the back of their eyes and their neck grew hot.

Am I getting a fever? Just as the child thought with a hazy mind upon lying down, Tennessee approached after seating the bleeding man in the steel chair and securing him firmly.

The child opened their eyes to the touch of a hand on their forehead.

Come to think of it, although they felt as if they had been hit by cold water along the way, they remembered that being in his arms felt good.

“It hurts, Tennessee.”

As they whimpered, the presence moved away, then approached again with the sound of footsteps.

“Take this.”

Something dry touched their lips. It was several pills. A water bottle came with them.

Struggling to sit up, the child grabbed the water bottle. Clearly, until a moment ago, they felt pain but had no trouble moving.

Yet, even though they had been lying down for less than thirty minutes, there was no strength in their hands. Even trying to apply strength made their entire arm ache up to the shoulder. As the child, their cheeks flushed red with fever, suppressed a surge of sorrow with a hic, Tennessee opened the cap and held it to their lips.

The child drank the water greedily. Every sip moistened their throat sweetly, as if they had crossed a desert. Above all, the water bottle Tennessee carefully tilted and his gaze watching over them covered the child’s body like a blanket.

“It hurts so much.”

“I know. Just lie down.”

Is this a dream…? The child thought blankly. This was the first time Tennessee had spoken or acted so kindly.