Chapter Twenty Six
Philip observed Daniel walking away at an even pace, partly smiling to himself. He hoped that Daniel and Leon possessed the ability to make amends. Leon's sanity rested in their hands right now. It was crucial that Philip keep Leon and his wife safe and alive. Especially Haley. At this moment, Leon's intention was to simply survive, and as long as Leon's intent wasn't ripping out Cale's throat, Philip was content. However, this new twist of occurrences caused a whole new set of problems. Philip didn't know whether Cale was after Leon, and truthfully, Philip didn't care. His one and only ambition was to keep Cale safe. If Leon's wife was killed, Leon's grasp of sanity would dissipate. And Cale would be the person Leon would go after first. And that was why Philip was protecting Leon, regardless of their past actions.
With Daniel healing his troubles with Leon, Philip now had one more thing to attend to. He thought about informing Daniel about his departure, then decided against it. Daniel probably wouldn't approve of his destination. It wasn't only Cale's apartment that Daniel loathed, but Cale himself. Daniel didn't understand. Perhaps now and then Cale could express some disturbing behavior, but Cale shared his flesh and blood. Cale was his older brother, and despite everything Philip loved him. Besides, he and Cale had gone through everything together. Everything, from the very beginning.
Philip entered through the garage and hopped into his baby, a Ferrari 599 Gtb. Perhaps the car was a bit too showy and luxurious, but Philip owned the money to pay for it, and he had a love of technology in all forms. He could stare at that car's engine all day, and there was nothing like the thrill of pressing that accelerator and feeling all that power resting at his fingertips. Just being in it made his heart thump with appreciation. This piece of machinery was something marvelous and beautiful. Philip paused. Perhaps it would be foolish to take such a priceless gem to Cale's apartment. Someone would be sure to key it out of jealousy. Philip bit his lip. With a small sigh, he got out of the car and switched to an older mustang, which he had fixed up himself. He engine rumbled under his hand, and Philip smiled to himself. Although he preferred the Ferrari, there was something about this car he was always fond of. Perhaps it was the fact he had built it with his own two hands that gave him the immense feeling of satisfaction when he handled the beast under his small hand.
Philip hadn't visited Cale at his apartment in an extraordinary amount of time. Philip couldn't conceive of a reason to visit his brother. Cale was always the one who came to this house, and the extremely high majority of the time this was simply to make use of Philip's computer expertise. But, as Leon probably wouldn't take too well to an appearance from Cale, Philip needed to warn him to stay away. The last thing he needed was that sort of confrontation between the two.
Philip briefly considered letting Cale in at night to kill Leon. That would cure all of his problems. But he couldn't do that-Daniel wouldn't appreciate it. He had already seen the product of his meddling, and wanted to stay away from it at all costs.
Philip looked out his window and noticed that the scenery grew less and less attractive to the eye. The more he drove, the more glum everything looked, from the people to the buildings. These people lived in squalor. Philip clicked his tongue. He was almost tempted to give Cale money, but knew it would do no good. Besides, poverty was the life Cale knew. Philip remembered when he had run away with Cale, and they were homeless. Perhaps they had nothing, but there had been something exciting about the situation, travelling from one place to another with all the freedom one could wish for.
Philip wondered what his mother and father would think about this whole situation. Would they be proud? Displeased? Philip hardly remembered what they looked like, couldn't hear their voices anymore. It had been too long.
Philip's parents were immigrants from Germany, who moved to America when Cale was very young and before Philip was born. However, they died in a car accident when Philip was four. Cale and Philip were thrown into the foster care system together, which was a horrible experience, but they were there to give each other company and comfort. That is, until Philip was twelve, which was when he was adopted by a pastor and his wife. It was quite unusual for anyone to adopt a teenager, but perhaps they sensed Philip's keen intelligence and knew he'd be successful in life. Philip remembered hugging Cale before going off with what he believed would be his family, crying. He remembered how Cale whispered in his ear that he was going to escape from that place and find Philip. It was a promise Philip knew Cale wouldn't be able to keep but still hoped he would.
Philip smirked, remembering what a joke his new life had been. What seemed like a dream had quickly transformed itself into a nightmare.
Philip parked the car on the curb in front of a decrepit looking building. Philip wondered how anyone could stand to live like that. After a moment he left his car, and entered the building. Cale's apartment was on the very top of the building. Philip climbed the stairs, one floor after another, until he reached the top. He paused at Cale's door, biting his lip. He really didn't want to go into Cale's apartment. That place was a testament to Cale's insanity. Yet, he didn't have much of a choice. Philip knocked on the door, and leaned backward, waiting. After a few moments with no response, Philip repeated the action. Maybe Cale was absent.
No, finally Philip could hear movement within the home, and a few seconds later the door opened. Cale donned a black t-shirt and gray sweats. His hair was mussed, and his eyes betrayed exhaustion. Cale blinked.
"Philip? What are you doing here?" He yawned.
"May I come in?" Philip asked.
"Of course." Cale smiled.
Philip noticed with a wave of relief that Cale seemed extremely lucid right now. Philip entered Cale's house, then sighed. The interior of Cale's apartment consisted of a random assortment of objects. There was no consistency or reason. It wasn't overflowing with things, but they littered the floor. The most common objects were pieces of paper with drawings and such Cale had created. Some drawing were simple, others intricate, but most portrayed demonic figures or violent actions. They were the door to Cale's inner mind. Philip shivered, and sat on the couch, which stood in the middle of the room like some sort of odd centerpiece. Cale joined him.
"I just wanted to stop by to tell you not to come by my house for a while." Philip stated in a monotone voice.
"Oh? Why would that be?"
"I'm afraid that business is mine and mine alone." If Cale really was the murderer, it wouldn't be wise to tell him where Leon was hiding.
Cale frowned, but remained silent.
Philip looked around, and found himself longing to say something to Cale regarding the disturbing nature of the drawings. Witnessing the proof of his brother's tentative grasp on sanity severely worried him.
"Have you been burning anything?" Philip asked. His insides squirmed together but his voice remained steady.
Cale glanced up. "Burning anything?"
"Yes Cale." He stared directly into Cale's eyes even though it was difficult. "Have you been playing with fire?"
Cale blinked blankly, as though he didn't understand Philip's question. He blinked again, and looked down. His hand snaked into his pocket and pulled out a lighter. He looked as though he had forgotten it was there. He clicked it open and with a flick of his finger a flame sprung from the lighter. Cale watched the rolling flame with active fascination as Philip watched Cale wearily.
"Put it away Cale." He commanded sternly. Flickers of fear rose inside him now.
Cale seemed to not have heard Philip, as he was too busy watching the flame. Cale smiled suddenly, and cooed softly, "pretty flame."
"Cale!" Philip demanded, fear steadily rising. "Put it away!"
Cale looked up abruptly, and met Philip's concerned eyes. He glanced at the flame, and it was gone in that second. He obeyed, replacing it back into his pocket and Philip sighed in relief. Philip thought he had lost Cale for a second.
"What?" Cale asked.
Suddenly the room felt incredibly small, squeezing itself in on him and he couldn't stand to be there any longer. "I'm on a tight schedule. I should leave now."
Cale shrugged. "Alright. Have a good day."
"You too." Philip stood, and fled from the apartment.
In the car Philip closed his eyes and fought the emotions that threatened to take over him. He couldn't allow himself to let them take over. Philip whimpered. He knew that person was not the brother he remembered. He missed that old person so much. That person who saved him from his adopted family. Philip gritted his teeth. He could recall the very night Cale saved him.
Philip had been sniffing pitifully, then wiped the tears from his eyes. Why were they doing this to him? What was wrong with him? He buried his face into his pillow, feeling his ribs ache. At least that man hadn't given him a black eye this time. He hated telling people he had lost a fight. Not like there would be many people to lie to anyway, being homeschooled. Part of him wished he could go to public school, to escape, but what would there be to escape to? He couldn't hide from their scorn, their strikes. Whether it was his parents or someone else, there would always be someone ready with the blow. All he had was his computer.
Philip looked at himself in the mirror, at his floppy hair, meek frame, and thick glasses. What looked back at him was his appearance, which was bad enough. But it wasn't why that man thought it suitable to beat him. him. He, himself, was the reason for his bruises, for his scars, for the pain. He didn't know why this could excuse the abuse, but as far as his father was concerned, it was an ample enough reason. Not even the foster home was like this.
He was repulsive. That was what they thought of him. A disappointment. A waste of food.
Something tapped Philip's window, causing him to turn around in surprise. He watched as something jumped up and hit his window again. He blinked. Who would be calling at this hour? He had no friends. Did they have the wrong window? Again, a pebble hit the window. Philip approached it and opened the window, feeling the cool night air hit his cheek. He peered out at the dark, but remained silent.
"Philip?" Someone hissed up at him.
Philip's heart leapt, his heart recognizing the sound, but his brain insisting it was impossible. Like always, he followed his brain. "Hello?" he whispered into the night. "Who is it?"
"It's me Philip." The voice replied. "Surely you know."
Philip scrutinized the area, then finally uttered the name with a small stutter. "Cale?"
"Yeah Buddy. It's me."
Tears welled up in Philip's eyes, but he pushed them away before Cale could decipher them. "It's really you?" He was afraid he was hallucinating.
"Of course. Come down so we can talk"
Philip nodded, turned around, and paused. If they found him sneaking out...no. It was irrelevant. He wouldn't trap himself up here while his dear brother awaited him. He opened the door, slowly, and slipped down the stairs, peeking in a doorway to see his adopted mother sleeping alone. Which meant her husband was either watching television or sleeping in front of it. Philip could hear the soft whisper of it from downstairs. He held his breath, feeling his ribs hurt again, remembering what punishment felt like. It was too dangerous. If this were anyone else waiting outside of him he would have retreated.
But this was Cale. He kept moving with hard determination and twitching anxiety. His foot touched the bottom of the staircase, and he held his breath, waiting for something to happen. But nothing did. After a few moments he determined it was safe, and padded across the floor to the front door. He paused again, then opened it and slid out.
"Cale?" he called in a frightened voice.
"Over here." Philip could just make out Cale's shape near the tree in the front yard. He turned on an electric lantern and Philip could see Cale's face clearly, so much older than when Philip had last seen him at the foster home, yet it still contained the same amount of sparkling excitement.
A rush of emotions whirled Philip's brain. His brother. His brother was here. He rushed over to Cale, grabbing him into a hug and clutching tightly. "What are you doing here?" Philip choked.
"I came for you." Cale replied warmly.
Philip whimpered as Cale accidently touched his ribs. Cale pulled him away, rose an eyebrow questioningly, and raised Philip's shirt. Cale sucked in a breath as he looked over Philip's bruises. He next pushed up Philip's sleeve and gazed at purple and blue rising up his arm.
"They did this to you?" Cale uttered disbelievingly.
Philip paused, then nodded.
"I'll fucking kill them." Cale growled.
Philip took a surprised step back, looking up at Cale's savage expression. Cale looked as though he really could murder someone. "It's okay." He murmured. "It's nothing."
"Nothing!" Cale scoffed angrily. "Like hell it's nothing! Look at this! Look at you!"
"Please Cale." Philip muttered blushing. He wanted to forget and pretend that this never happened.
"This isn't alright Philip!" Cale exclaimed. "Why would they do this to you?"
Philip looked down, ashamed. He didn't want to admit it. He was scared what would happen if he did.
Cale gathered Philip in his arms, and Philip flushed. "You can tell me." He urged gently.
Cale hugged him, careful not to squeeze his ribs, and stroked his hair.
"Because I'm gay," he whispered.
Cale paused for a moment, and Philip was certain rejection was coming after that pause. "Everyone has their...differences. But that doesn't mean they're a bad person."
Philip clutched Cale's warm accepting hold, feeling like a small child again. He remembered when they were in the system together, when they only had each other. Cale promised safety again after so long of darkness and fear.
"Did you come to find me?" Philip wanted to know.
"Of course-just like I promised you, remember?"
Philip did remember. "Where are you staying?"
"The park." Cale answered cheerfully. He paused, looking intently into Philip's eyes. "I'm sorry I don't have anywhere better to offer you, but if you want to come with me, you're more than welcome."
"Stay...with you?"
"Yes. If that's what you want."
Philip blinked, then smiled warmly. "I'm going to go get my things."
Cale grinned, then nodded.
Philip opened the front door again, peering into the house. The man was still asleep on the couch, heard by his avalanche-inducing snores. Philip took a breath, feeling braver than he had in a very long time. He snuck a peek into the living room, watching his father's mountainous chest rise and fall. He wasn't wearing his work clothes, which greatly relieved Philip. He didn't want to get any closer, as what he needed would be in the master bedroom. Philip snatched a garbage bag and dashed upstairs into his room. He shut the door firmly and began stuffing clothes into the trash bag, uninterested in which items he chose. He also added a few books then looked around to access what else he needed. He had no money, so that was out. His gaze rested on the computer, bulky and slow, but still his most treasured possession. He knew he couldn't take it with him. Philip stood there for a time in a mournful trance before he remembered Cale was waiting for him. Finally, he sighed, silently said good-bye to his one fried, and walked back into the hallway.
There was only one more thing he needed to do. He glanced into his parents' bedroom again, and at his adopted mother. He couldn't say he held much love for her. She let it happen, and he could tell she thought of him just as he did. Disgusted. A mistake of adoption. Philip crept into the room and went to the bedside table, opposite from where she slept. Philip opened a drawer, and fiddled through the various objects. Eventually he found a small box, which he opened to find a wad of hundred dollar bills. He pocketed several, as well as a credit card. Philip knew it was for emergency. They wouldn't discover the theft until it was too late. He glanced over at his old mother one more time, then at the enormous cross that decorated the wall behind them, a miniature Jesus hunched over in dying agony. He felt boiling hate fill him as he looked at the two. He wouldn't miss this life. There was no reason to.
He opened the front door and felt the touch of cold air sooth his face and bare arms. The air was crisp and fresh. Philip walked, the faint moonlight guiding his way, before he met with Cale once again.
"I have money." Philip told him .
"Yours?"
Philip looked away sheepishly.
Cale laughed. "Karma, that's what it is. Come on, we have a long way to go before the sun hits the sky. He need to be far away from here by then."
Philip looked up at his big brother gleefully. Could this truly be real? His brother answered the question with a smile. Philip returned it, and cuddled into him.
"I missed you Brother." He muttered. "A lot."
"That's why I came." Cale replied. "To protect you."
Philip blinked. Cale had promised to protect him, but the very opposite happened. He and Cale and been travelling for several months when Cale's behavior began to shift. He began forming delusions that the devil possessed his body. He saw demons everywhere. Cale would burn himself in the attempt of riding his body of the demonic forces. Of course, these attacks were few and far in between. Philip, in his immaturity, didn't realize what was going on. All he knew was that this was the brother he loved, and for that reason nothing could be wrong. Philip had paid the price for his foolishness. Philip looked down at his arm, where Cale had burned him. It was the one time Cale had hurt him, absolutely convinced that Philip was a demon. Philip shivered. By that time, Philip was afraid, but stayed with Cale simply because he didn't know how to survive on his own. This went on until Cale met a trio of men who offered them to join their gang, the three being Daniel, Leon, and Alexander.
Philip shook his head, returning back to reality. He sighed. He wished more than anything that Cale would return to being the person he once was. But he knew there was no point in longing for such an impossibility.
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