‘There, there. Didn’t you promise that you’ll keep me company to Aunt Lynette’s house?’ Mum patted Toby’s head, which made him to glance at the empty space before nodding vigorously. Instead of using his plastic fork, he lifted a piece of chicken with three fingers, tilting his head up and slowly put the chicken in his mouth like he saw people eating giant worm in the television. ‘Sure honey, just be careful.’ She said before taking a sip of her lemonade.
After dinner Oliver helped his mother to clean up the table, washed the dishes and helped Toby with his homework. Then he grabbed his backpack in the closet before heading back to his room. He felt a little light headed, maybe he’d slept too much. Just before his hand could reach the knob, he heard a soft voice appointing him. ‘Master…help me…’ The voice was soft, but deep, which made Oliver’s blood to chill. It called him twice, before it disappeared. Oliver knew he was trembling. He quickly turned back, and his mouth was ready to yell ‘who?!’, but he just saw Toby from across the hall in his room, drawing something on a paper with crayons.
Frantically reaching for the knob, he got into his room, towards his desk. Then he realised he was gasping for air, and his lungs felt empty no matter how many times he drew air. He glanced at the empty street outside his window, before he let the curtains back into place, just for precautions.
Did the voice just asked Oliver for help? Who would it be? Why would the voice call him master? Those questions seemed to be haunting him, as if they were lingering inside of his head, laughing at him. He set his bag on the table, before throwing his body on to the bed. He scrambled back on, reaching for the book in his bag.
He placed it opened in front of him and flipped open the page he had marked earlier at the library. There was nothing in the book that caught his attention. Everything was related to psychological problems. Schizophrenia, OCD and others… But Oliver knew that his case was different. Usually people with mental disorders were the results of family problems, stress or maybe traumatised by something. But he was sure he didn’t have that kind of problem. He had a good life, good friends and nice, loving family. Everyone who mixed with him was normal. Although he wasn’t so sure about his teachers…
He picked up the phone, and when he’s about to dial, it rang. Oliver waited for the second ring before he pressed the green button. ‘Clay’s Residence.’ He mustered his breath and answered.
‘Hey Oliver, it’s me.’
Oliver knew the voice from the other side too well. He let out a soft, relieved sigh although his heart accelerated. He thought earlier the caller might be from the unknown voice.
‘Sarah, what’s up?’ He faked his voice, pretending to sound happy.
‘Just want to remind you about tomorrow. Green light from your parents?’ She added.
‘Yeah, I’m good to go.’
‘Great. See you tomorrow then.’ She delivered her last word, before hanging up.
‘Sarah, wait!’ Oliver cried, but he was too late. He wanted to tell her what just happened, but on the second thought, he glad he didn’t. There was a fragment in him to find out the truth by himself. Just when he’s about to close his eyes, he heard a knock on the door. The phone slipped away from his hand and he frantically sat up, thinking it might be his mum. ‘Come on in!’ He shouted in a reluctant tone.
The door was pushed open and he saw Toby standing in the entrance, one arm holding a book and another was tucking Monkey. ‘Yes…Toby, what do you want..?’ Oliver stared at him, giving the child a go-away look. His little brother would waddle to the bed, before he climbed onto it after he placed Monkey and the book beside Oliver. Hiding the book under his pillow, Oliver secured his arms around his little brother’s torso, helping him to get onto the bed with a heavy sigh.
The little boy then pounced onto Oliver’s laps, as he held the book with both hands, bringing it close to his nose. His loose sleeves dropped to his elbows as he raised his hands, revealing his small arms and fingers. His shirt was definitely too big for him, as if he was wearing Oliver’s. It slumped on one side, his right shoulder exposed. ‘Read me a book, Ollie?’ He said as he tilted his head a bit to the side to get a clearer look of his brother. As Oliver caught his glance, the boy smiled cutely.
From a quick glimpse he read the front cover, ‘Percy Jackson and The Lightning Thief.’ He knew he would have lost if the boy whined. ‘I’m far older than you, don’t call me Ollie! And don’t you think you’re too old to read that book?’ He exasperated mournfully.
‘I’m tired, go ask mum then.’ He lied, trying to find an excuse. He felt himself coming to sick, or at least tried to. But then, he thought it might be a good chance to keep him busy and hopefully he’ll forget about the voice. However, he knew it wouldn’t happen. He felt chill running down his spine and he had a sudden shiver.
‘But I want you…’ His little brother retorted, his lips pouted.
‘Uh…Okay...Just this time.’ Oliver finally gave up. He set himself reclined on the bed, leaning over a couple of pillows which he made as support. He gave his brother a light pinch on his nose as he pulled the kid closer to him.
He read the book, and before he realised, he already felt asleep with his brother on his bed, book on the side and the lights still flooding the room. Then, he had a dream.
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wait for the next part to find out what dream he had !
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