Chapter Text
The home was like a torch in the pitch black of night. Flames flickered and spat from it, illuminating the immediate surrounding area and the two boys standing only a few meters from the fiery inferno. Joe’s feet were wet from standing in the dew covered glass in only his socks. At least they were protecting his soles from the muddy ground. They were the only cold part of his body, the heat of the fire seemed to wrap itself around him. His face was completely blank, watching as twelve years of memories went up in smoke and ash, dissolving right before his very eyes. Joe felt numb. He didn’t even flinch when his older brother placed a hand on his shoulder. Joe simply looked up at Will, and Will looked down at him, a slight glisten in his eyes. The younger noticed how the older was trying to hold back the tears, his bottom lip quivering. Should he be doing the same? Should he be crying? Joe wasn’t sure. Maybe Will was crying because this wasn’t the first time he had lost a parent.
“Come on, Joey. We gotta get away from here so we don’t get hurt,”
Joe only nodded as Will guided his brother toward the road. They didn’t have any neighbors for a few miles, but if anyone was awake at this time they were sure to have seen the smoke rising from the Carroll’s on the top of the hill.
—
The next week was mostly a blur. They had taken residence at their uncle’s home as he was their only living relative close by that could take them in. Any planning for the funeral the boys were kept out of while their Uncle Peter talked on the phone with other aunts and uncles. Will did his best to engage with Joe to keep both of their minds off of the accident. They would go on long walks around town, to the park, through the woods. Will would buy Joe his favorite candy from the shops, but they mostly went untouched.
“It’s my fault,” Joe said one day while they were in the park. He was sat on the swing set, his toes only just touching the ground. Joe looked over to his older brother who was leaning against one of the metal poles before his gaze dropped again. He hated when Will would just stare at him. It made Joe feel bad, it made him feel like Will was searching for a reason to hate him. And maybe he should
“Joey…” Will sighed. Technically it wasn’t Joe’s fault that the fire started. If Joe’s mother hadn’t insisted on lighting those stupid candles. If their father hadn’t taken another raging fit that night… Will knew that Joe was acting out, but it had gone too far and now their parents were dead. An investigation had to be done, Will was old enough to understand that was something that needed to be done.
“Accidents happen all the time. You didn’t mean it.” Joe looked up at the overcast sky with a blank expression. Will was worried about his little brother and knew they would both need help after this incident. How could you recover from something like this alone? The older boy moved behind his brother to push him on the swing set. Joe’s head fell back, eyes closed as he swung forward and backward, sailing higher and higher every time his brother pushed him. Will imagined that Joe finally felt free.
—
It was a closed casket affair. The church was decorated with flowers and pictures of the Carroll’s all together as a family. No one was really crying, but Will was putting on a brave face for his younger brother. Condolences were given by distant family and neighbors, childhood friends and their parents. The neighborhood was small, so there weren’t that many non-relatives gathered. They had a relatively small family as well. With Will’s father having passed shortly after he was born, he really didn’t know that side of the family. In fact, he didn’t even really know his father’s side outside of his Uncle Peter. But Joe’s father’s family had come to support them both. Another relatively small gathering of people. They sat around for awhile listening to the adults tell stories about their parents, funny anecdotes from their youth, heartfelt conversations, what sounded to be a love confession from another woman who Will recognized as the bookshop owner.
It wasn’t until the candy shop owner had his turn to speak that Will managed to realize that Joe had disappeared from his seat beside him. The older boy made a quiet exit, leaving the church to go to the garden it had directly behind it. It was filled with trees, flowers, and shrubbery. It was peaceful. In the middle of the garden there was a slightly eroded statue of Jesus that moss had started to slowly take over. Along with it was a small pond and a bench that Joe was sitting on, looking up at the statue.
“Do you think Jesus forgives me?” he asked innocently, not turning to face William.
“I reckon he would,” Will replied as he continued over to his younger brother. He sat beside him on the bench, looking up into the face of Jesus as well. It was odd, for as long as he remembered the family hadn’t stepped into a church on Sunday’s. At least since Joey had been born.
“You know it was an accident, Joey,”
“It wasn’t though,” he replied honestly. “I just wanted–“
“Please don’t,” Will stopped his younger brother “I know you wanted it to stop. We both did. That’s why you did it. Joey, you’re better than I ever was. Better than I ever will be,” The brothers turned to look at each other before Joey nestled closely to Will. The pair stayed there in silence until the sun started to set and their uncle had to find them.
—
Living with their Uncle Peter wasn’t all that bad. He did his best to ignore the young boys, and they did their best to ignore him. The only time they interacted was at meal time, but even then they hardly shared more than “may you pass the salt?” or “may I be excused?”. It was easier, and simpler. Joe and Will would go on long walks in the woods behind their uncle’s house. They could spend all day out there. There were so many paths to take, so many trees to climb. Their favorite path took them to an open field. It was part of some farm land, but the farm must have been miles and miles off because they couldn’t see it. They would climb the fence and run and play in the field. Sometimes the cows would be over there. The two boys were always prepared with treats they stole from the kitchen so they could feed the cows. Some days they’d just lay in the field looking up at the sky as clouds passed over. They’d point at them and describe the objects they saw in them. It wasn’t a bad life. It was bearable. It was better than being beat and sent to bed with no supper every night. They weren’t loved by any means, but they were taken care of. Joe had a suspicion that their uncle never really wanted to take care of children.
And then the day came when the boys saw fancy letters at their places at the table before breakfast.
“What’s this?” Will asked as he picked up the expensive feeling paper, closed with a red wax seal. He carefully pried it open when Uncle Peter didn’t respond. Will read it over carefully, his brow furrowed the whole time. “I don’t understand…”
“You need to go to boarding school. Someplace that can help you… deal with your loss. I’m not equipped to be of any sort of help, so for school I think it would be best if you go somewhere that is,” and that’s all he said before he stood up and left the room. Joe didn’t touch his letter, instead reaching for a piece of fruit in the fruit bowl before he stormed out of the house. If he was brave he’d burn down his uncle’s house too. But that would look suspicious, wouldn’t it? He and Will were able to keep their stories straight when they were interrogated by police, who knew how it would go a second time. Joe was lucky, he knew he was. If they were being sent away, why would it matter if they continued being good or not? Maybe he was actually as bad as he thought he was all along and that’s why his uncle was sending them both away. To be someone else’s problem.
—
The rest of summer went by quickly. Every day was the same, over and over. Despite Joe and Will both attending the same boarding school in the United States together, Joe started to pull away from his brother more and more over the weeks. He had secluded himself to his bedroom, or when they went into town, the small used bookshop. Joe could sit and read for hours. Shakespeare, Brontë, Austin, Poe, anything he could get his hands on to read, he would read it. It was all above his reading level, but it was the only thing that was intellectually stimulating for Joe. Poe was his favorite. He could read the same stories and poems over and over again and never get bored. He felt connected to the poet. Joe connected to his sadness, his anger, to the horrors that were depicted on the pages. It felt like he was finally being understood.
And he started writing. Joe bought himself a nice little leather bound notebook from chore money his uncle had given him. It was nice and thick so he could use it for quite awhile, writing anything he wanted in it. Joe finally had an outlet for all his feelings that he hadn’t known how to express. He was perfectly fine. He didn’t need therapy! Uncle Peter didn’t need to send him and Will away from the only home that they both had known now. Everything would be fine. — August heat was upon them before they could even blink. Bags were beginning to be packed with things that they would be needing. Books were beginning to pile up. Each of them had different reading material that they needed which made their uncle grumble about how much money he had to shell out. And suddenly it was the end of August and they were on a plane by themselves to go to a country they had never been to before to wait for a stranger to pick them up. Joe was nervous about the flight. They had never been on a plane before. They always took cabs, trains, a car for transportation when traveling long distances. They hadn’t ever even been out of Europe before. He shook the whole flight, but tried to hide it. It seemed Will was doing the same. Eventually they were able to find some semblance of sleep for a few hours before they landed in the states. Joe wasn’t sure who they were supposed to be looking for, but he knew that Uncle Peter had told Will, so he just stayed as close as he could to his brother. They were the last to exit the plane, as they were both afraid to get too caught up in the crowd and miss the person that they needed to meet. When they exited and entered the airport itself, Joe noticed that there was only one person loitering, as if expecting someone. He was tall and dressed formally. Joe noticed on his sweater vest an embroidered LF with an olive branch encircling it. The man looked almost unnatural with his perfectly placed blonde hair and almost clear blue eyes. Joe felt immediately uncomfortable around him.
“Dr. Strauss?” Will asked as they approached.
“That would be correct. I’m to assume you’re Joseph Carroll and William Halston?” The man – now known as Dr. Strauss – asked them.
“You can call us Joe and Will,” Will replied, gesturing between them both so Dr. Strauss would know who was who.
“A pleasure. I’ll be your therapist, as well as one of your teachers during your stay at Lightford Academy,”