The Devil Child

Thirty-Two

 The first time Minny met his brother Tanner, it was the first time he'd seen his father in weeks. Weeks that had stretched into months that had stretched into a period of time that drove his mother insane.

Minny and Lennard were holding hands tightly, too tightly, and both were dressed in matching outfits. Typical of twins who lived with a mother obsessed with outward appearances. They were identical; impossible to tell apart.

"Benjamin and Lennard, I'd like you to meet your brother, Tanner. He'll be living with us from now on."

Tanner looked rich and spoiled standing in front of them, with his hair combed back and his body stuffed into a tailored outfit, just for him. Tanner didn't look like a lost child who had just lost his mother. Tanner didn't even look like he had emotions, his face flat and bare.

Minny thought that Tanner looked like a robot.

"Why is he suddenly our brother? Did you adopt him?" Lennard blurted out, true to his blunt nature. Lennard didn't wait for questions, didn't dance around a topic. Lennard had always been one to cut to the chase.

"No, I did not adopt him. He is your brother by blood. He simply is now living with us." The tone their father carried was sharp and dangerous, just like him. Their father was all flashy colors and pressed suits and all mystery. He traveled on long trips. He didn't talk much, other than to bark orders at his children. He loved church and the idea of religion.

Minny didn't say a word that day. He'd stared at his new brother, wondering where he came from. Wondering why Tanner looked like them, but also didn't. He was tall, lean, hard. Minny knew right away that there was something off with Tanner.

Later that night, Lennard wasted no time coming up with plans. "I'd say we pull some pranks on him. Let him know we're in charge."

"In charge of what, Lennard? He's older than us, and obviously Dad likes him. Dad told us not to talk to him."

Lennard leaned over the bunk bed, his head falling over the railing to look at Minny on the bottom bunk. The two didn't have to share a room; they prefered to.

"Who cares what Dad says. We hate him anyway."

"Doesn't make him any less scary," Minny muttered, but Lennard just laughed at him in an outrageous way. Because Lennard was loud and unapologetic, even in the worst instances. "Ben, you don't take any risks. You're boring. Boring."

Minny frowned and turned from Lennard. Ever since they were born, despite their identical looks, it was easy to tell the two apart. Lennard was the daredevil, the troublemaker. Minny was quiet, shy. Adults called him sweet while they called Lennard rude. And Lennard took pleasure in this, knowing what adults thought of him. Because Lennard had always been a troublemaker. He had never once cared about what others thought about him.

"Awe, don't go to bed yet Ben. Come on, don't be that way. It was a joke. A joke." But even Minny knew it hadn't been a joke - Lennard did think he was boring. And Minny agreed. Minny was safe, dependable, a follow-the-rules type of kid.

"So, what do you think? We put a bug in Tanner's breakfast tomorrow morning?"

Tanner didn't eat with them that morning. Neither did their father.

Minny watched as his mother prepared him a plate of eggs, not asking where the maid was. He knew his mother didn't like having maids, that she didn't like depending on them and ordering them around. That had always been something his father enjoyed.

"Why can't we eat with Tanner?" Lennard pouted into his eggs. His mother flinched, the sadness in her eyes surpassing her own children. They didn't understand - couldn't understand the situation at hand. Her husband was taking in the boy of his lover. The boy who lost a mother. The boy who shouldn't have been born.

She felt distraught and saddend by Tanner and his sudden life change. She knew how it felt to be a Nichols. She knew how suffocating it felt in this household, with her two perfect twin boys, her rich and ruthlessly religious husband, and an empty house full of deflated promises.

"Tanner and your father are doing important things." Her tone fell flat. Minny noticed, and he looked up, trying to catch her gaze. Trying to understand the sudden depression her mother seemed to be battling. He was young, but he understood more than his mother or father gave him credit for.

Lennard slammed his fist on the table. "Not fair! Dad is always somewhere else, never here with us. And this Tanner kid, he can waltz on in and take our Dad away?"

Minny shot Lennard a sideways glance. Lennard was putting on an act, Minny knew this for sure. He watched as his brother, forever the drama queen, threw his body into a tantrum. All for a deadbeat father who took pleasure in a heavy hand and flawless appearances.

Their mother began to cry, heavy tears. Her shoulders shook with sobs. It was 9am but she reached for the bottle anyway, ignoring the looks from her children as she poured herself some wine. It was becoming a fast habit of hers now. She hated this life.

"Your father doesn't mean to leave," she cried. She was lying. "He loves you both, I promise."

More lies. They fell from her lips like the wine flowing past them. "One day, you'll understand."

Lennard stood. "If he doesn't want us, let's run away."

Their mother let out a weak laugh. She wanted to agree, wanted to run away with her children right then and there, but she couldn't. She was tied down to a husband who didn't care for her, and the stability he brought. Running away would not be smart, not with two young boys with hungry stomachs and nowhere to run to.

Her destiny were that of a housewife, locked away. Her children would suffer the same. But little did she know, one son would escape. One son would become an abuser, like his father. And the other son would become nothing more than a wallflower and the punching bag for his father's insults.

Three boys, all stuck in the same place. Three boys, all with vastly different futures. If only she'd known, as she sat at that kitchen table, that unlike the fairy tales, no one would whisk her away. No one would save her. And her children would become just as twisted as the tale itself.

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