Memories of You

Chapter One - Nothing but Time

Tobias POV

Chapter 1 - Nothing But Time

75 days

1,800 hours

108,000 minutes

6,480,000 seconds

I don't have much longer. Once I'm 18, I'll never have to look back at this godforsaken place again, or at the monster that lives within it. Every second I'm in this house, I must endure the wrath of my father. Even with the war raging in Europe, being a soldier is a better alternative than what I face now.

While the United States hasn't officially joined the war, something deep within me knows it's only a matter of time before something happens that will force our hand. And while I'll be in danger, it pales in comparison to being under the cruel eye of Marcus.

I look down at my dish from breakfast this morning and begin scrubbing again until it's clean. If Marcus saw me daydreaming and not doing my chores, he would give me utter hell.

"Tobias." I almost flinch at the sound of my name, accompanied by his heavy footsteps which draw him closer toward me. I feel the air stir as his hand comes up, and I feel a small muscle begin to spasm in my back, waiting for the impending blow. But instead, his hand comes down on my shoulder gently, just as a reminder. "Don't let the toast burn again, son."

Marcus takes his hand off me, then strides toward the table, picking up the paper I laid out earlier. While the touch is meant to be comforting, it is far from it. I glance at the toaster, being overly cautious, but don't see any tendrils of smoke.

I let out a small breath, "Yes, sir."

I haven't actually burnt his toast or scorched his eggs in years, but he will never let me forget, reminding me constantly of even my smallest infractions. Reminding me that there will be a consequence for nearly everything I do around him.

Once the toast is done, I plate it along with the eggs, and set the plate in front of Marcus. I go back to the kitchen to finish washing the pan and to wipe down the counters. Any excuse so I don't have to actually sit with him.

I hear him flipping the pages of the newspaper, more than likely reading the article about how the Germans invaded the Soviet Union recently. His foot taps against the hardwood floor in annoyance. I'm sure the only thing going through his mind right now is how his precious stocks will react to this news, not about how more people are losing their lives and being driven from their homes.

Once the pan is clean, I place it back in the cabinet and look over to see that Marcus needs more coffee. I grip the pot in my hand, walking carefully over to him to refill his cup. I hear him grumble something about stock prices and make a note to be especially careful tonight. He will more than likely be in a foul mood when he gets home.

His plate is clear of his breakfast, so I grab it after filling his cup, grateful I have another reason to not have to sit with him. I begin cleaning the plate slowly, being deliberate with my movements. I look up at the clock and see that I have ten more minutes before I can leave.

I am placing the plate on top of the others when I hear Marcus walk into the kitchen behind me, putting his cup in the sink. "I'll be late tonight. I have to meet Andrew Prior at his home this evening. Make sure that your chores are done before I get home." He turns to leave, and I almost feel dizzy at the thought that he isn't leaving me with a threat. I won't have to deal with his wrath for long tonight, especially if I can come up with an excuse to go to bed early. But then he stops and adds, "Make sure you finish them. You don't want a repeat of last week." Then he turns, walking toward the front door to put his coat on.