Similis

The Beginning of it all...

Chapter 1

Tommy was a curious boy. Perhaps he hadn't always been this way, but lacking most things that children receive made Tommy rather inquisitive. Tommy's father had always said , "Four be the things I'd have been better without: Love, Curiosity, Freckles, and Doubt." As a child, the freckle part had always made Tommy laugh, but now, all he could think about was the part about curiosity. Was it really all that bad? And love..

What exactly was love?

Tommy had been only 1 year old when it happened. "The Change," he had called it. Tommy hadn't understood why he didn't remember it, and when he brought up "The Change," nobody knew what he was talking about. So from then on, Tommy decided to keep his thoughts to himself. Maybe, in the end, Tommy should have told his father about The Change, but he never did.

His mind circled back to curiosity. Would it really be that bad if he went outside? Would it really be that bad to see Mrs. Puffy's flowers? Would it really? He knew that it was obviously wrong, but what could happen if he did? Tommy would always end up agitated at the end of a conversation with his father, Phil, for he never got more than a vague you wouldn't be safe , from the man he called his Dad.

As much as Tommy deeply appreciated his father, Tommy often found himself getting the short end of the stick. To be completely honest, Tommy had always gotten the short ends of everything. Aside from his 2 siblings, Wilbur and Techno, he hadn't met a new person in... almost his entire life. Of course, Tommy had asked about that more times than he could count, never to any avail, mind you.

And now, sitting in his small cot in the basement, the dark covering the room like a cloak in which he could never escape, he wondered (as he often did, not bothering to tell Will about it) about the world's greatest questions, things that he ponders over, as he slowly but surely drifts to sleep.

Tommy Innit Watson never has nightmares. Some would think that to be a blessing, something to be proud of, something to be happy about. But for Tommy however, dreams were a way to get out. Quite more times than not, Tommy was a lucid dreamer (when he did have dreams, which was quite rare in itself) and found it as the best release from his life. The life he lived, stuck in the basement for the entirety of his life, was in the name of living. Although Tommy would disagree that it was well more like surviving for him, not thriving. Dreams were the best way for life in itself to feel more real. Almost like he was actually living.

Most nights the house was quiet, apart from sometimes hushed voices coming from upstairs, which frequently made him nervous, if he wasn't already. See, Tommy used to be confident, and brave, and smart, and strong, and possibly everything he needed to be to qualify as a semi-normal-kid, but not anymore. As the years went on and his life kept declining at a pace faster than he could keep up, eventually he just gave up. It wasn't an easy choice, neither could he actually say it was really a choice at all. Quiet and subtle, like he didn't even know it was happening.

Life itself had worn him down.

As Tommy awoke, his eyes glazed over with weariness from the night before, he rolled out of bed. It was still quite dark in his room, (AKA the basement) although he could see light coming from under his door. He stumbled to the door and groaned loudly, hopefully letting Phil know of his presence.

"You can come out, Tommy," said a voice Tommy recognized as Techno's.

Tommy gripped the door and pushed it open, his hands and fingertips almost numb from the cold.

"Good Morning, Tommy."

"Morning, Tech. Whatcha making?" Tommy asked, looking over Techno's shoulder to see him cooking something, possibly bacon.

"Bacon. Eggs are on the table. You should eat," Techno says, with a hint of cheerfulness in his voice.

"Where's will?"

"Probably at school, and don't you mean Willow ?"

"I don't get why we have to call him that, we're at home."

"Well, dad said so. Unless you want to get a stern "Talking To" after dad comes home, I would suggest that you follow the rules."

"Yea yea, ok Techo, lord and sovereign of the fricking universe ," Tommy said, teasing Techno.

Techno let out what sounded like a scoff in return.

Tommy smiled. A scoff from Techno was the closest thing to a laugh he had gotten from him in at least a year. It was sort of nice to hear something a little different than the short, straight forward sentences he had been accustomed to. It felt just a bit more normal.

"Also, don't forget to take your medication today, they're recommending that you take 3 now, since something happened with a rebel the other night," Techno says, his voice going stiff at the word "rebel".

Tommy grumbled a quick ok before sliding into a chair and eating a few bits of food.

"Hey, I gotta go. I'll be back in a few hours. Will should be back by his usual time. And remember-"

"I know I know, don't go outside," Tommy says, interrupting the spiel he's heard over a thousand times.

"Good. Bye, Tommy," Techno says, quickly grabbing his bag and walking out of the door.

Tommy sighs loudly.

What to do, what to do, Tommy thinks to himself.

As used to being alone as he is, the lack of things to do still makes Tommy contemplate.

Tommy wonders where Techno went every day. He's aware that some people have jobs, like Phil, and some have school, like Wilbur, but he'd never actually thought to ask. Most things in Tommy's home were done without any talking necessary. Some days he would ask Will what school was like, but Will had given him a sure warning to not ask again. Sometimes Tommy wondered why.

But he tried to keep his mind off of their comings-and-goings. After all, Tommy had a job to stick to. "A very important job," Phil had said to Tommy when he was 6 or 7, in the perhaps patronizing way that parents would speak to their children. Tommy sometimes pondered over whether his job was actually important. He hadn't brought this up since he was a kid, but the question still jabbed his mind, earnestly seeking for answers.

What job would make you stay in the house for- forever? What exactly was Tommy doing that was so needed? And why the hell wouldn't anyone give him a straight answer?

Tommy stared at the glass of water on the counter, the blue pills seeming to glare at him.

Tommy took the pills into his hand and felt the smooth texture. Although Tommy knew the best thing to do with the pills, his anxiety still lingered.

Tommy hadn't taken those pills in 6 years.

The first time he did, he vowed to never take them again.

Pure hell was an understatement. Those pills swore that they were somehow good for him, but Tommy knew better. He couldn't possibly swallow something that he knew would willingly make him feel like shit (obviously).

He also couldn't possibly swallow the feeling. He couldn't feel at all. The epitome of emptiness had sat in his stomach for at least a day.

Shoving the pills in his pockets, he slumps back to The Basement his room.

Tommy had a system. Somehow in his mess of a room that Phil wouldn't dare ask him about, he had an intricate system. Dirty socks and books leading to the foot of his bed like a maze didn't concern him as much as they probably did to his father, but that was neither here nor there. He would force the pills into the bottom of his drawers, and he would leave his sanity in the bucket on the left. It was a comfort to have a system.

Something he could control.

And with that, he sat back onto his bed, prepared to spend his day the same way he always did.

Alone.