Teenage Baby

Chapter 22

Chapter 22:

Aaron was very well aware that he only had a few seconds to save himself.

He could feel Lou behind him, regarding him and probably questioning why he was on the floor and not on the bed where he'd left him. Aaron gripped the key with both hands, but his fingers shook against it and his palms gathered a shallow sheen of sweat. This was his chance; he didn't want to lose the key or get caught.

Aaron turned his torso towards Lou, one hand nervously brandishing the paper for him to see while the other tried pushing the key into the side-pocket of his sweatpants as covertly as possible. But he missed with nervous haste, and instead blindly rammed the sharp edge against  his thigh multiple times before finally managing to slip the key in.

"I was looking at your drawing," Aaron explained, his voice barely maintained in a composed pretense. Lou watched, wordless, and the knot in Aaron's stomach loosened slightly when he realized he hadn't noticed the key. "It's really nice but I didn't understand what it means but you're talented."

The statement poured out all at once, not a single pause in between for a proper breath. Lou frowned as he took in how nervous Aaron was—his eyes gave it all out. They were wider than usual, the prominently defined black ring around his irises darker, almost like it was trying to cover up for the chaos in the center. But it failed. "Baby? Are you fine?"

  "Um, yeah. I just... I think I..." Aaron's gut squeezed. It took him a second to continue: "I think I ruined your painting. It fell under the bed, and it's all dusty and dirty now. I-I'm sorry."

  "Okay, that answers why you're on the floor." Lou shook his head, but he chuckled as he did. Then he approached his baby and took the paper from him, patting the dust off the surface. "There, baby. You didn't ruin it. And even if you did, I wouldn't be mad. I literally can't be mad at my baby boy." Lou leant forwards, one hand supporting the back of Aaron's head as he kissed his forehead. Then, he picked him up from the floor, but just as he was about to put him on the bed, Aaron protested with a quiet no. "What is it, baby? Don't you wanna sleep more?"

  "Can I go to the playroom?" Aaron couldn't believe he was saying that, but he had a plan in his head. "I just want to, um—"

"You don't have to explain to me why you want to go there, love."

Lou took him to the playroom, and Aaron thanked God he didn't feel the key in his pocket, possibly because his arm was beneath him, not around. As soon as Aaron was set down on the floor, he carefully looked around for something to hide the key in. Then he found it: the bin filled with toys and stuffed animals. For now, it was good enough. So he scrambled towards it and sat on his knees, but then he hesitated for a moment. Was he allowed to touch these?  He looked back at Lou.

"Can I look through?" Aaron asked.

"Of course, baby. Everything here is yours."

Aaron nodded then turned again, giving Lou his back as he shuffled through the bin. He needed a toy with a zipper or a pocket that he could hide the key in, because he surely wouldn't be able to keep it with him safely all the time, especially that the captors were doing everything for him, including changing his clothes.

There was a stuffed dolphin with a long zipper embedded across the length of its stomach. Aaron unzipped it, and he found a thick mass of white soft cotton all gathered inside, which was perfect. With one final cautious look over his shoulder, where he found Lou busy drawing on the table, he pulled the key out from his pocket, his first proper look at it.

Disappointment.

The key was bronze and rusty, slightly tattered and old. It didn't look like it belonged to the front door. The excitement quickly drained away through an expanding hole in Aaron's heart like it hadn't even been there in the first place. Then the disappointment turned into frustration, and he found himself wanting to just slam the key against the wall and scream.