Sanctuary

                Bringing homework to absent nerds wasn’t Will Oxman’s style. He had a reputation to keep. But despite his complaints and arguments against the biology teacher that he and Thornton Wilson shared, he couldn’t deny that he lived the closest. Following that failed conversation, Will decided to accidentally forget to stop by Thornton’s house. He let slip at lunch that he was going to accidentally forget, and was met with approval and a small sense of reassurance. The Ox, as he was known to the football team, wasn’t a delivery boy for a nerd.

                Four hours later, Will stood—somewhat awkwardly—outside the Wilson house, fist hovering between his chest and the large wooden door. He’d mentioned the homework over dinner, at which point his mother stared him down.

                “But he’s a weird kid, ya know,” Will had muttered while scrutinizing the small chunk of pork still left on his plate.

                “I know, but it’s not his fault his mom’s not right in the head. I don’t blame his father for leaving. Just go over and give him the worksheets or whatever you’re supposed to drop off and then come back. It’s not like anyone you care about is gonna see.”

                She had made a point he couldn’t argue. Of the six students who lived in his small town that took the hour-long bus ride to the high school the next city over, he had the most social weight. Standing at 6’3”, he had the most physical weight as well, weighing just over 250 pounds. One of the defensive tackles for the varsity team, he was large and confident compared to his neighbors.

                And yet, the front door of the Wilson house intimidated him. The house itself was tall for a one-story home; the double door entrance stretched well above Will’s head. After a moment of taking in the doorway, he finally forced his fist forward and knocked hard on one of the doors three times.

                For nearly a minute, Will waited, tense. He’d determined that no one was home, made no effort to knock again, then turned to step off their porch when he heard the scraping sound of wood against carpet. Reluctantly, he turned back around.

                Thornton Wilson stood in the open doorway, dwarfed by Will and the door. He looked up at Will, eyes wide, mouth slightly ajar, feet bare. His pale skin was covered by baggy and equally pale pajamas, the arms too long and the legs too short, his curly and messy hair almost too dark for the pale figure it sat on. Will wondered if he hadn’t just called on a patient at a mental health hospital, or else a less than life-sized doll. The two stared at one another.

                “Yes…?”

                Will almost hadn’t believed the boy had spoken, the high pitched, quiet voice barely settling on his ears. A moment later, he shook his head. “H-hey, sorry if I woke you up or something. I’m Will Oxman from down the street, we got biology together at school. Teacher told me to bring you the homework.” He held the worksheets out in front of him, scratching at the back of his neck with his free hand.

                Thornton did nothing, pale blue eyes settling on the papers. Will stretched his arm out a bit further, so that the papers were right in front of Thornton’s face. “Oh.”

                Something about his response didn’t sit right with Will, but he ignored it. “Teach wants to know why you’re absent, too, if you’re sick or somethin’.”

                Again, Thornton did nothing, eyes focused on the papers in Will’s hand. Will exhaled, then coughed loudly and intentionally. Thornton’s head trembled for a moment, and he looked back up to Will’s amber eyes. “I am taking care of my mother until she is well again.”

                He took the papers from Will, and before Will thought to respond, the door in front of him had shut. Will stared at the door for a moment before shaking his head and walking away. “Weird kid.”

                The following afternoon found a disgruntled Will standing in front of the large wooden door again, more worksheets in hand. During class, he’d less than sheepishly said he’d forgotten to bring the papers to Thornton, at which his teammates laughed. The teacher hadn’t found it funny. Will had left the class feeling guilty for lying, and angry that he had to meet the nerd a second time.

                Will’s fist met the door three times without hesitation, and he crossed his arms in front of his chest, irritable. After a minute with no sign of life inside the house, he banged on the door again and continued to knock until the door swung inward, scraping against the carpet inside. When he was met by the same pale face, wide eyes, open mouth and bare feet, he shook his head. “It’s me again. Got more homework for ya. Teach told me to bring ‘em, so here.” He held the worksheets out for Thornton to take, this time deliberately holding them right up to his face.

                When Thornton reached forward to grab them, Will nodded.  “Good, there ya go.” He turned to walk away, then remembered what Thornton had told him the day before. He turned around, guilty. “Hey, look, does your mom need medicine or anything?”

                For a moment, Will scrutinized Thornton’s face, surprised to see the boy’s eyes widen more than they already were. “N-no, no, she will not take medicine, she refuses.”

                Will blinked at this. “Well, what about a doctor, then? Can you take her to see one?”

                “She will not leave the house. She calls it her sanctuary.” Thornton’s eyes returned to what Will assumed to be their normal width, and for a moment Will considered leaving without asking anything else. But there was something about his response that didn’t sit right.

                “What if I go get the doc and have him come in here? That way she doesn’t have to leave—”

                “No one is allowed in the house without permission. It is her sanctuary, and she intends to keep it that way.”

                “Alright, fine. Hope she feels better soon, anyway.” Without asking more questions, Will turned and walked away from the Wilson house. Whether Thornton knew it or not, Will had noticed the boy’s hands curl into tiny fists.

                The next day found Will once again standing in front of the Wilson house, angry. His left hand was clenched into a tight fist around the handles of a plastic bag, his right clenched in an even tighter fist as it slammed it loudly against the door. He didn’t need to look down to know who had answered the door, when it opened.

                “Listen, kid, I’ve had enough of being delivery boy. I brought some medicine, do whatever you have to do to make sure your mom takes some, and so help me if you’re not on that bus in the morning there will be hell to pay.”

                He shunted his hands forward, forcing the bag into a stunned Thornton’s hands. The boy looked up at him, eyes wider than normal. “But that’s not, I mean, she—”

                “I don’t care if she says she won’t take it, you make sure she takes some and gets better, or you can tell her I’ll break this door down and drag a doctor in if I have to—”

                “N-no! She said no one enters her sanctuary. Even without a doctor, she’ll get better!”

                For a moment, the words rang in Will’s ears. Other words started to surface along with them, and Will heard a mishmash of words in his own voice, things he knew he hadn’t said and wasn’t saying, words he only recognized after the fact that he’d heard earlier that day.

                “You’re a loser, Ox! What self-respecting football player delivers homework for a nerd who won’t even try to get a doctor for his mom? You’re supposed to be tough, man! Linebackers aren’t postmen for scrawny kids! Next thing we know you’ll be taking him out to dinner or something. No, you can’t sit here, this is where the cool kids sit. I thought you were cool too, Will, but you’re just not who I thought you were. If you’re gonna hang out with the freaks from your hick town like an animal, then you can’t hang out with us. You can have lunch with us when you get better.”

                “Better! She’ll get better, honest—”

                Will blinked and looked down. A terrified Thornton was shouting up at him, tiny hands clenching on the thick wrists attached to the giant hands clenched around his pajama shirt. Between his arms, Will could see Thornton’s pale feet dangling off the ground. Will’s eyes went wide and he set Thornton down, letting go of Thornton’s shirt before leaning down and picking up the medicine bag, which lay forgotten on the ground. He handed it to Thornton quickly, not looking the smaller boy in the eyes.

                “I-I’m sorry. I’m just stressed about the stuff I need to get done for school, I shouldn’t have done that, I don’t know what came over me. Look, I’m goin’ home, I need to rest. If your ma needs a doc or something, just come knock on our door, someone’ll answer and give the doc a call for ya.”

                Without waiting for a response, Will turned and half jogged away from the Wilson house, not stopping until he’d slammed the door to his own home shut. When his father walked up to him, an eyebrow raised, Will shook his head.

                “Tired. I’m going to bed now, tell ma I said g’night.” He walked down the hall without another word, closing the door to his room behind him before haphazardly throwing his clothes onto the floor. He pulled his heavy blanket back from the head of his bed and climbed into bed under it, then shoved his face into his pillow and pulled the blanket over his head, blocking out the fading light from sunset that was filtering in through the window.

                Even surrounded by the dark, Will could see the pale, frightened eyes that had been staring up at him moments earlier, and he hit the back of his head with his hands. He had no idea what he’d done or why, but he felt himself trembling, and somewhere in his head, Will heard words being spoken in his own voice. His fingers clenched around his brown hair and he shook his head back and forth repeatedly, trying to drown the words out.

                The next morning, Will stood at the bus stop, arms crossed in front of his sweatshirt-covered chest and eyes half-closed. He was a few minutes early, though it was mostly to avoid talking to his parents, both of whom wanted to know why he looked so tired. He had hardly slept. The voice had kept going the entire night, sometimes with the image of Thornton’s terrified face to match, but he wasn’t going to tell them that.

                By the time Will could see the bus rolling down the road toward the usual stop, there were four others standing with him. None of them spoke to one another, and Will deliberately avoided eye contact with them. Instead, he eyed the Wilson house, which showed no signs of life, and he frowned, teeth grinding quietly together.

                As the bus pulled up, Will feigned a loud and prolonged coughing fit. Once he was sure the driver had seen him, he tried to stop to speak to the driver, but in faking a coughing fit, Will had actually started himself into a real coughing fit, and so a minute later he finally just shook his head at the driver and started walking back toward his house. The bus took off a moment later.

                Once Will had stopped coughing and managed to catch his breath, he turned back around and walked to the Wilson house. He had thought he’d seen sunlight passing through their house from the bus stop, but he was still stunned by the fact that there weren’t blinds or curtains on any of the windows. Instead of knocking on the door, he stepped onto the overgrown grass and went around the house, shading his eyes from the sunlight and tentatively peering into each room.

                Finding the living room, den, and spare bedroom all empty, Will frowned and moved to the back of the house. He’d noticed that the bedrooms were on opposite ends of the house, and he glanced into the first bedroom he passed, ignoring the dew gathering on the leg of his jeans. When he spotted Thornton asleep in his bed, Will’s fists clenched and unclenched, but he shook his head and moved on to the next sets of windows, only to find the kitchen and dining room in the same state. He stopped on their back patio and looked in through the window in the door, but he’d already seen the empty living room, so he didn’t look for very long.

                Will was flabbergasted at how void of life the house was. “He said she was getting better, I thought,” he muttered to himself. A moment later, his own words sunk in, and he quickly moved to the master bedroom window. At first, he was hesitant of being caught spying, but he saw a mass in the bed covered by a large blanket which he assumed was Thornton’s mother, and so he glanced in with less concern. Will looked at the pillow, trying to get a decent view of her face, but without much success. He couldn’t tell if the pillow was on her head, or if it was just conveniently in his line of sight. He shook his head and moved about, trying to change his perspective until he could see her properly, when he realized the pillow he was staring at was laying entirely flat.

                “But that can’t be right,” Will said, shaking his head. “If her head’s under there, it shouldn’t be flat. And if there’s a head on the other side of it, I oughta at least see hair or something.” He scratched his hair, entirely confused, then rubbed at his eyes. “Maybe I’m just seeing things because I didn’t sleep.” When he looked a second time, then a third and fourth, and rubbed his eyes more in between each glance, he finally admitted that what he was seeing didn’t match logic. “Maybe she’s bald and wears a wig.” When he didn’t see a wig stand, he frowned again and shook his head.

                Tentatively, Will went back to the door on their back patio and looked in again, then went to check on Thornton a second time through the other window. When he saw that Thornton was still asleep, Will returned to the patio and grabbed the doorknob, hands trembling. For a moment, the only sound Will heard was his own uneven breaths, and then he quietly started to turn the knob.

                When the door clicked and slid open, Will remained outside, dumbfounded by the fact the door was unlocked. A moment later Will’s hands launched to his nose and mouth, and he stumbled backward, caught so off-guard by the stench wafting out of the house that he nearly fell back into the grass. He felt his stomach lurch, and he quickly pulled his sweatshirt over his nose to try and at least return his senses to something familiar, if not pleasant. Once he was sure he wasn’t going to throw up, he took a deep breath and walked quickly and quietly inside, looking around just as quickly and quietly before moving to the master bedroom.

                As he stepped into the bedroom, he felt his insides tense up, and he steeled himself before rapidly moving forward and yanking the blanket back. When he realized what he was looking at, he released the blanket and leaped so far backward that his back slammed against the wall and his sweatshirt slipped off his nose. He scrambled out of the bedroom and bolted toward the back door, nearly making it to the door before tripping and puking on the living room carpet.

                For what seemed like hours, Will remained hunched over on the carpet, vomiting until he felt as though there was nothing left in him at all. He couldn’t tell if the liquid trailing down his head was cold sweat or tears. From somewhere behind him, he heard footsteps, and he lurched to his feet as fast as his stomach would let him.

                “Will? Will Oxman?” The high-pitched voice was enough for Will to figure out who was speaking. He turned around, instinctively looking down at Thornton’s wide eyes, bare feet, slightly ajar mouth. “What are you doing here? You should be at school.”

                Will’s mouth opened, but no words came out. Thornton’s eyes opened wider, and Will found himself staring into Thornton’s pale blue eyes, trying to come up with something to say as Thornton half-whispered, “what are you doing inside? This…this is my m-mother’s s-s-san—”

                As Thornton tried to sputter out the word, Will noticed the knife in Thornton’s hand. Will’s body began to move on its own, moving forward one slow step at a time, mouth still open and trying to force out words. “Her…her...” The words didn’t come until one of Will’s hands had latched onto the front of Thornton’s pajama shirt and pulled him up so that Thornton’s eyes were level with his. “Wh-what did you do to her head?!”

                His fist unclenched and Thornton fell backward, landing on his back as Will’s legs buckled beneath him. Will landed on his knees, stunned, still staring down at Thornton. For several long moments, both stared at each other in silence, neither moving save for the slight expanding and contracting of their stomachs, until finally Will’s stomach lurched again and he leaned to the side, vomiting once more on the carpet.

                Thornton pulled himself to a sitting position, then pushed himself away from Will until his back reached a wall, at which point he stared at Will, mouth ajar as he held the knife out in front of him. And then, all at once he began to speak. “Her san-ctu-a-ry. Her home. She hated when I did anything. Hated when I touched anything. Especially the oven. Never the oven, always her oven. Her cookie oven. When he left, she stopped touching the oven. Stopped touching it and everything else but the bed. The bed and the knives.”

                Will slowly looked over at Thornton, still catching his breath. He tried to speak, but decided against it when his stomach lurched. Instead, he pushed himself back up to a kneeling position and wiped his mouth on his sweatshirt sleeve as Thornton continued to speak.

                “The knives and the bed. And if I touched anything else I got the knives, so I stayed in my bed. Stayed in my bed and hid in the blankets. Quiet, just like she liked me best. I stayed quiet and in bed and we were happy enough. He was gone, I couldn’t touch anything, but I didn’t want to anyway. She wasn’t yelling at me anymore, so it was nice.”

                After a while, Will was fairly certain that Thornton wasn’t speaking to him. Even so, he tried to follow what Thornton was saying, without much success. In the back of his mind, Will remembered his own mom mentioning something about Thornton’s father leaving town. Beyond that, Will stopped caring, and he stood and moved toward the entrance, opening the double doors. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he’d realized it was time to get the cops.

                “Some days she made me go, so I’d go and see all the freaks in that big building with the bus and the stairs. Freaks, animals. All different shapes and sizes, too. None small or thin like me, but some close. Some tall and thin, some short and fat, a few tall and fat and loud. Tall and fat and loud like that ox in the big room. I think he felt unsafe in that big room, so he was always loud. Everyone laughed in that room, whenever the ox spoke.”

                Will stopped in the doorway and turned around, staring down at Thornton’s head.

                “He seemed afraid, all the time. Like an animal. He spoke and looked around to make sure he was funny. To make sure people liked him. To make sure the other freaks liked him. To see if the other freaks cared.” As Thornton spoke, he stood, moving closer to the doorway, knife leading him. There was an odd smile on his face. “But it was funny. Freaks don’t care about other freaks. Especially not weirder freaks. I wanted to say no one likes a freak like him. He depends on other freaks too much. I should help him so he doesn’t depend on freaks anymore. I will make it a permanent fix—”

                With one hand, Will swatted the hand with the knife away, and with the other, Will struck Thornton hard across the face. Not a moment later, Will’s hands had latched around Thornton’s collar, and with one mighty yank, he threw Thornton out the front door and sent him skidding across the dew-covered grass. Before Thornton came to a stop, Will ran at a bound across the yard, stopping above him and pinning him to the grass with one arm. The other arm quickly raised, hand curled into a tight fist, and struck Thornton across the face again without hesitation.

                In the back of his mind, Will heard a voice repeating the same phrase over and over again, and as it repeated he felt his teeth grinding together, and he picked Thornton back up and was about to throw him again when sunlight reflected into Will’s eyes off of a neighboring house, blinding him for a moment. He stumbled backward and let go of Thornton, who crumpled in the grass.

                Will rubbed at his eyes repeatedly, fingers catching on sweat and something else again and again until he was finally able to see. He looked down at Thornton, who was curled into a ball, and he grabbed him by the arms, pulling him up to look at him. When he saw the face looking back at him, he nearly dropped Thornton again. Thornton’s right cheek was dark pink from where he’d been hit, a stain on the otherwise pale backdrop, and his eyes were like lightning, pale blue staring back into Will’s dark eyes without flinching. Will held him there, staring him down, until he felt his own body begin to tremble.

                “You know who you’re talking to,” Will said, trying to ignore the trembling.

                “You are the ox.”

                “So why’d you say it?” His fists clenched a bit tighter around Thornton’s arms, and Thornton flinched. “Well?”

                “It is the truth, though, isn’t it? You come from this town, they come from that town. You don’t know them. You’re afraid of them. So you try to be like them, hoping they won’t notice.”

                Will shook his head, trying to clear his mind of Thornton’s words. “How long has she been dead?”

                “She’s sleeping.”

                “You know who I’m talking about, so you know she’s dead. How long has she been dead?”

                A slight breeze blew between them, rustling Thornton’s hair.

                “Answer me.”

                Thornton said nothing.

                “Fine. How’d you do it, then? Where’s the head?”

                “She loved her knives. I don’t know why she loved her knives so much, they were very bad knives. Cutting was always difficult, even using the big one.”

                “Where’s the head?”

                “The kitchen is pretty. Her kitchen. Don’t touch anything in it, she does not want anyone to mess with her kitchen.”

                For a moment, Will shook his head aggressively. “Answer the questions!”

                “Her kitchen has to be perfect, so she can make her perfect cookies for her perfect family and her perfect neighbors.”

                Will blinked, looking just over Thornton’s shoulder. His father was standing on the porch of their home, smoking. Will’s eyes narrowed and he returned focus to Thornton. “So she didn’t have her perfect family?”

                “No. Didn’t have her perfect neighborhood either. Full of freaks and animals, both of them.”

                “You know where you are?”

                “Her sanctuary, like always.”

                “No, you’re not. Open your eyes and see for yourself.”

                “My eyes are open.” Thornton started, and he looked around. As his head craned about, his eyes grew wider and wider, until he began to sob. “No, no no no! I must go back inside, she hasn’t let me out, this is bad, I cannot go outside, home is sanctuary, home is safe!”

                Will let go of one of his arms, and Thornton fell and landed on his feet. When Thornton tried to run back to his home, Will tightened his grip on Thornton’s arm. “No, you stay out here and suffer. Take a good look at the animal. At the freaks.”

                When Thornton continued to try to run back to the house, Will wrenched him back and punched him across the face in the same spot he’d hit before. Thornton crumpled and began to wail, “I must go back inside, home is sanctuary, home is safe,” at which point Will kicked him in the gut to try to get him to stop.

                “Oi! Will! Will, is that you?!”

                Will put a foot down on Thornton’s chest to keep him still, and looked up to see his father running toward him. “Will, you’re supposed to be at school—what in god’s name are you doing? What did you do to the poor kid?!”

                Looking at his father, Will shook his head. “Pa, just call the cops.”

                Several hours later, a police car pulled up to the Oxman house, and a cop stepped out of the driver’s seat. Once the cop opened the back door, Will clambered quietly out of the car, hands cuffed behind him. Guided by the policeman, Will walked to the front door, where his mother was waiting with the door open. “Afternoon, officer,” she said quietly.

                “Ma’am,” the officer replied, nodding. “I figure you’ve heard already, but he’s under house arrest, not to leave until told otherwise by the authorities. Good news is that both kids are telling the same story, and it matches the facts as we know ‘em. Your son’s no murderer. Though, based on the other kid’s jaw, I’d say your son packs quite a punch.”

                Will coughed and tapped his arms against his back, at which point the officer unlocked the cuffs. Without saying anything, he walked to his room, haphazardly threw his clothes on the floor, and climbed into bed. In the back of his mind he could still hear Thornton calling him a freak, could hear the people from his school calling him a freak. He shook his head, let out a sigh, and muttered into his pillow, “home is sanctuary. Home is safe.”

                A moment later Will closed his eyes and fell asleep.