Chapter Text
Starset - Carnivore
~ All my life, they let me know ~
~ How far I would not go ~
~ But inside the beast still grows ~
~ Waiting, chewing through the ropes ~
The basement was filled with the damp scent of old blood. The dim light of the bulb flickered as the hatchet struck with loud thuds. A chainsaw lay idle on the far left bench.
Tommy wiped the sweat from his brow with a grimy hand and set the cleaver down with a soft thud. Sheriff Hoyt comes downstairs and looks at his work. He clapped him on the back, a gesture that was more of a grunt than a friendly pat. "Nice job, son.”
The praise felt empty, but Tommy accepted it with the practiced indifference he had long since perfected. He knew the routine. He always did.
“Now all we need to do is get the thing over there,” Hoyt said, gesturing at the hanging body, “and pack it in—”
Mama Luda Mae’s voice echoed from the kitchen. “Tommy! Wash up and come eat lunch.”
“Y’heard the woman,” Sheriff Hoyt grunted, clearly irritated. “What’re ya standin’ around for? Go wash up!”
Tommy nodded, wiping his hands on a rag before heading up the stairs. He passed Uncle Monty in the hallway, who sat on the couch, barely glancing his way as he nursed his own thoughts and a cold beer.
After washing up, Tommy made his way to the table for lunch.
His Mama, Luda Mae, was bustling around, setting the table. Uncle Monty was already seated, his face a mix of boredom and anticipation.
Luda Mae glanced up as Tommy stood near the door. “Join us, Tommy dear,” she said, gesturing to the empty seat at the end of the table. More like, the absence of a seat. He stood when he ate. He was too large for the chairs, fearing he might break them.
He approached the table as Luda Mae smoothened her apron before folding her hands in her lap. “Alright, let’s give thanks,” she said, her voice a soft murmur.
The family offered their grace in the usual manner, with Luda Mae leading them this time.
“Lord, we thank you for the food provided before us and the strength to endure another day,” Luda Mae said, her voice soft with gratitude in her tone. “Watch over us and keep us safe. Amen.”
With the blessing given, they began to eat. Tommy remained silent as always. Even though his figure towered the rest of the family, he had never spoken.
After lunch, Tommy finished his plate and quietly rose from the table. He made his way towards the door, his footsteps heavy but measured. The meat in the basement can wait. It was cold so it will last.
Luda Mae's hand came down on his shoulder with a firm grip, halting him. Her gaze was steady, eyes searching his face. “Going back there again, Tommy?” she asked, her tone more of a matter-of-factness rather than inquiring, a hint of concern buried beneath her practiced calm.
Tommy turned to look at her, his expression as impassive as ever. He simply nodded in response.
Luda Mae released his shoulder with a resigned sigh. Her gaze lingered for a moment longer, filled with a mix of acceptance and unspoken worry. She gave a slight nod, a silent acknowledgment.
‘Lord, help my boy for whatever has changed that day,’ she thought.
Tommy stepped outside and the cold hit him like a sharp slap to the face. Of course it was, it was winter. The midday sun briefly blinded him before his eyes adjusted. He trudged across the yard, his breath forming small clouds in the frigid air. He looked at it as he walked. The ground was hard and frozen, crunching beneath his heavy boots.
The walk to the river was long but familiar. He had walked it countless times, the cold biting at his cheeks. The land around the Hewitt house was rugged, and he had grown accustomed to the distances and the silence that came with it. The path was uneven and sometimes overgrown, but it did not stop him.
As he approached the river, the rush of the water was a welcome sound. The river was fast and freezing cold. He had come here a week ago and tried to catch a fish which he hadn't done in a very long time, but the fish had proven to be difficult to catch. It slipped away easily despite his efforts.
He continued his walk along the path, moving beyond the fast-flowing river and into a more secluded area. The river's rush gradually gave way to a quieter, gentler creek. Its waters barely made a sound and it was surrounded by dead greenery and branches which will bloom once summer comes again.
The creek used to be framed by vibrant foliage. Bright green leaves rustling with their hues rich and full of life. The summer sun filtered through the branches, casting patterns on the ground. The warmth of the season enveloping him. Tommy liked summer. The heat, though often intense and sometimes stifling, was a comfort to him.
Tommy walked alongside the creek, his eyes tracing the rocks and branches. The ground was bare now, but he imagined how vibrant it would be once summer arrived. He couldn't wait for it to come. He knows that the seasons change and soon this cold will stretch into warmth until the cold comes again.
He eventually sat down on a medium sized and low boulder, with its surface cool and rough against his backside. Beside it sat a clean yet rusted bucket nearby. The bucket was filled with many rocks. Tommy stared at it before blinking, allowing himself to be enveloped by the serenity of the scene.
As he sat there, he could almost step back into a memory. It lit up vividly in his mind.
He pushed through the tall grass, which was a sea of green, tickling his arms, feet, and the makeshift bandages wrapped around his face. The bandages were cut up fabric from one of his old shirts. He wiped his eyes with a dusty hand, Tears stung his eyes, their salt mixing with sweat and smearing the already discolored bandages. He wiped his eyes with a dusty hand, but the tears only seemed to make the situation worse. The sun was not helping either. The sun was high in the sky, hot and steaming warm, his head felt hot. It also intensified the ache behind his eyes.
As he moved, the grass occasionally caught on his clothes, adding to his discomfort. Soon, he arrived at his favorite spot, his personal sanctuary. He could spend hours here and he liked the quiet and the sound of water. It was also cool and soothing to touch.
He enjoyed the occasional butterflies or dragonflies flying by, chasing them as they danced above the surface. Their wings were beautiful and fascinated him. He had pondered how it would be to fly. Then he recalled a particular day when he had stumbled upon a small frog. It had croaked softly, and he had watched with rapt attention as it hopped away, its small, green body vanishing into the water. He had wanted to touch it but was scared that he would hurt it so he didn't.
At the edge, he reached down to touch the water’s cool surface. He picked up a couple of pretty rocks, admiring their smooth textures and their colors. Though he wouldn’t take them home, he planned to leave them near a large rock, for later. Like he always did.
As he fidgeted with the rocks, one of his bandages came loose again. With a sigh of frustration, he carefully rewrapped it, folding it over securely to keep it in place. The bandages were a constant annoyance to him but he preferred them over nothing at all.
It had been several years since the bandages became a part of his daily life.
He despised the way his face looked. It was both painful and humiliating when he looked at the spots that covered his cheek and nose, eating away. Even more so when someone pointed and laughed and teased him.
He eventually tried to cut off the affected skin himself. He managed to remove some of the affected areas, but he couldn’t bring himself to cut off his nose completely. His mother had intervened, advising him to leave it alone, though he resented her for it.
Now, his face looked even worse than before. The skin disease had left ugly scars and patches that he hated to see, and he tried to cover them as best as he could with bandages. He continues to avoid mirrors and windows.
Furthermore, other children were mean.
At school, the cruelty of the kids followed him. He had longed for friends but they didn't like him. They were merciless. Mocking him for his quietness and lack of intelligence.
They called him names. Freak, stupid, monster, retard. Their laughter echoed in his ears. Some of them even chased him. Throwing rocks and pushing him. He knew he wasn't smart, he knew he wasn't good looking. He knew.
And it hurt.
He despised them. He often bit his lip as he listened to them. The teachers didn't care. They were either oblivious or indifferent. They didn't intervene. He was left to fend for himself. It has gotten even worse since these bandages. They drew even more unwanted attention. Eventually, his Mama had taken him out of school, recognizing that the environment was doing more harm than good. They began a different routine at home, working on chores together. Charlie and Uncle Monty are trying to find him a job and Tommy was fairly certain that he would end up working at the meat plant Charlie had mentioned. Charlie had noticed that he was good with chopping meat.
Still the kids from his old school, including older ones, somehow found a way to torment him. Whether sometimes coming close enough to hurl insults over the fence or shout at him from a distance whether he was out running an errand or simply going about his day.
Today was no different. It was the reason he was by the creek. They had chased him but he had managed to evade them.
He sniffed, rubbing his nose against his arm to dry the tears that stubbornly lingered. The back of his head still itched and ached from the rock that had been thrown at him earlier. He reached down and picked up another pretty rock. Having gathered enough, he stepped out of the water and crouched down and carefully wiped some green algae off one of the rocks, holding the others against his stomach. He planned on cleaning all of them.
Just as he was about to move on to the other rocks, he heard shuffling in the grass nearby. He stiffened, his heart pounding as a rush of panic set in.
Had one of them found him? How could they have tracked him so far? The fear of being discovered gripped him.
He quickly moved into the grass, crouching low and hid within the tall grass, hoping to remain unseen. As he moved, some of the rocks he had collected slipped from his grasp and fell to the ground. The bandages on his face, already coming undone from his earlier movements, tangled further, adding to his growing anxiety.
The shuffling sound grew closer, and he saw the grass parting on the other side as someone pushed through. A hand emerged, clearing the way, and his heart sank.
From his spot, Tommy glanced sadly at the rocks he had dropped. He had taken such care in selecting them, and now he could only watch helplessly as they lay scattered on the ground. He looked at the few rocks still clutched in his hands.
The figure finally emerged from the grass, moving backward while murmuring in irritation. The person appeared to be struggling, kicking at something with an awkward angle and swatting at their leg as if it were caught on something.
The person from within the grass finally came out backwards, murmuring as he was kicking his leg at an awkward angle, seeming to be stuck on something as he swatted at his leg. Tommy held his breath, hoping that the figure would move on quickly so he could have a chance to retrieve his rocks and return to his hiding place without being noticed.
From the back, he could see the person was a boy. Younger than him, perhaps by a few years or more. The boy was small and skinny, dressed in a white shirt and blue overalls, both of which were stained and dulled with dirt. His medium-dark, curly hair was very wavy, and despite its disheveled state, it looked fluffy and soft. It looked so soft that Tommy wondered how it would feel to touch it. He had seen girls with long hair that he always wanted to touch. But the boy’s curly hair was something new to him. He hasn't seen curly hair before and it just looked so soft. Tommy’s own hair sometimes looked curly, but it never stayed that way. It often tangled into knots, and he would try to brush them out as his Mama had advised.
The boy finally got the grass or debris that seemed to be caught on his leg, turned around and headed toward the creek. Tommy was able to see his face more clearly.
He was pretty.
Tommy hadn’t seen the boy before. He rarely encountered new people, so he had no idea if the boy was from around here, but he definitely didn’t recognize him.
The boy, unaware of Tommy’s presence, continued toward the creek with his fishing rod and bucket in hand.
The boy’s hair partially covered his face, appearing a bit longer in the front than in the back. The boy also had the most bright and wide beautiful pair of blue eyes he'd ever seen. The sun and the greenery made it seem like he had gold specks in them. His cheeks were full and rosy, carrying a bit of baby fat.
Tommy was momentarily lost in thought, captivated by the boy’s appearance, when he noticed that the boy was now taking off his boots and rolling up the legs of his overalls. The boy seemed to be preparing to trudge into the creek. Did he come here for pretty rocks like he did? Curiosity ate at Tommy as he looked at the rocks he held in his hands.
Looking back, it looked like the boy wasn’t likely to leave anytime soon. He decided it was best to leave rather than risk being noticed and potentially shooed away. As he began to move, he tried to keep as quiet as possible, the grass rustling noisily beneath his feet. Before he knew it, he had stepped on a patch of grass that gave a crunch.
The boy, now in the center of the creek, stopped what he was doing. Hearing the sound and noticing some movement in the grass, he looked around cautiously before calling out.
“Who’s there?”
Tommy froze, holding his breath as he stayed hidden. He watched the boy through the thick blades of grass, observing as the boy scanned the area warily. He was unsure of what to do, unsure if he should reveal himself or remain hidden.
The boy’s footsteps were light, barely making a sound as he moved closer. As he moved closer, he inadvertently rustled the grass near Tommy’s hiding spot, as Tommy tried to move.The sudden noise made Will pause, his head turning in the direction of the sound.
“Is someone there?” the boy called out, his voice firm and demanding. “Come on out. Now.”
Tommy remained perfectly still, his breath shallow and his heart pounding to see what the young boy would do. The boy's feisty demeanor made Tommy nervous. He wasn’t sure if the boy might react aggressively. If he kept hiding he would probably be struck by the fishing rod the boy was holding.
He slowly sat up, pushing the grass aside as he emerged from his hiding spot. His tall frame stood in stark contrast to the smaller boy, making him appear even more imposing. The boy only barely reached his chest.
The boy’s eyes widened in surprise as he took a step back, his gaze sweeping over the older teenager standing before him. For a moment, the two simply stared at each other. Tommy felt the boy’s curious inspection like he was being analyzed from head to toe. It made Tommy squirm uncomfortably.
“Are you... hiding?” The boy asked, his tone still cautious but less tense.
Tommy nodded slowly, silently. He was anxious.
The boy frowned slightly, then looked at the handful of rocks Tommy was holding.
“Oh,” the boy said, his expression brightening. “Were you gathering rocks?”
Tommy shrugged, shaking his head slightly. He didn’t offer any further explanation.
"Sorry if I scared you.." The boy said, tilting his head before pointing toward the opposite side of the creek. “There… there are a lot of rocks down there on the other side. Do you want to see?”
Tommy’s eyes widened in surprise. It was the first time anyone really tried to talk to him. Not to mention, the fact that the boy hadn’t commented on his bandages, despite clearly seeing them, was the most shocking to him.
Tommy hesitated, glancing from the boy to the direction he was pointing before he stopped to look at the short boy, who seemed like he wanted to say something more, hesitated, and then spoke up again.
“I usually come here to look for bait,” the boy said, scratching his neck. “Haven’t had much luck yet. Do you come here often?”
Tommy took a moment before nodding in response. The boy’s eyes lit up with a touch of excitement as he processed the answer.
“It’s nice to just sit by the water and listen to the sounds,” the boy continued with a gentle smile. “It helps me think. Do you do that too?”
Tommy nodded again, a small, almost unnoticeable smile tugging at his lips. The boy's warmth and the simplicity of his questions made it easy for him to answer.
The boy’s face brightened with a wide smile, and he turned, walking back toward the water with a playful splash. Tommy, curious, followed him. They waded into the shallow water, the coolness refreshing against their legs. The boy then skipped some rocks as well. Tommy watched in silence as the boy began to gather snail shells from the creek. The boy looked like he was throwing away the see-through shells while picking up dark colored shells in his bucket.
Tommy picked up a shell, noting its color excluding the translucent shade. He looked inside like the boy had and to his surprise he saw something wiggling within the shell. Curious, he gently poked it. He had not seen anything inside the shells he found before.
The boy chuckled softly, noticing Tommy’s fascination. “Haven’t seen one before?” he asked, his tone light and amused.
Tommy looked up at him, shook his head quickly with a spark of excitement in his eyes.
The boy hummed thoughtfully, clearly pleased with Tommy's interest.
After a few moments, the boy glanced over at Tommy again with a smile and said, “You don’t talk much, do you?”
Tommy’s expression shifted to a frown, and he looked down, feeling the weight of the boy’s stare.
The boy’s eyes widened in realization, and he quickly backtracked.
“Oh, I didn’t mean to come off like that. I understand—it’s okay to be quiet. I’m pretty quiet myself, actually. I like to listen, even if it doesn’t look like it right now.” He hesitated, laughing awkwardly before adding, “Are you from around here? I’m new. I came here a few weeks ago with my Pops. Don’t really know anyone around here.”
Tommy shrugged and remained silent, indicating he was listening, waiting to hear the boy continue but the boy didn't see it misinterpreted the silence and quickly tried to reassure him.
“It’s cool if you don’t want to talk. I get it. Maybe we can just be quiet together. Ah, I’m talking too much. I’ll just shut up now.”
Tommy was alarmed and quickly dropped his rocks, waving his hands in a frantic gesture to indicate he didn’t mean to cause any trouble. The rocks fell into the water with a series of soft clinks and plops. Tommy tried to convey that he didn’t mind, but he wasn’t sure how to express it. He fumbled with his clumsy movements as he scratched at his bandages in frustration.
Seeming to grasp the situation immediately, the boy asked gently, “Are you mute?”
Tommy nodded, making a sound that was somewhere between a grunt and a murmur, conflicted and uncertain. He had never needed to communicate to get things by. He was used to following instructions without needing to speak. He was lost right now.
“I see,” the boy said, nodding with understanding. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I should have realized sooner—I got a bit ahead of myself with the shell hunting.”
There was an awkward silence but Tommy’s small smile returned. He nodded in agreement, his expression softening with relief with the boy's reaction. He had not expected it to turn out like this. The boy was nice and Tommy was having fun.
He felt warm on the inside.
As they stood together in the shallow water, the boy glanced at Tommy. “My name’s Will, by the way. Will Graham. What about you?”
Tommy hesitated for a moment, thinking about how to respond. He finally stepped out of the water, his feet sinking slightly into the mud. He bent down and began to write his name in the dirt with his finger, forming the letters as best as he could. He hoped it was spelled correctly. It had been a long time since he’d been in school, and no one had taught him how to write properly since then. He wasn't good at writing back then either and Mama, Uncle Monty, and Charlie had never really helped with that aspect.
Will peered at the ground, his eyes focusing on the wobbly uneven letters. They were far from neat and somewhat difficult to read but not incomprehensible.
t m y
“Tmy?” Will tried to read aloud, making a guess at the name and looking up at Tommy for confirmation.
Tommy shook his head.
“Okay, let me try again,” Will said gently, his tone encouraging. “Tmy... tmy... Tamy?”
Tommy shook his head once more, his frown deepening.
Will took a deep breath, thinking carefully. He crouched down next to Tommy and said, “How about we try together? Maybe we can figure it out.”
He played around and wrote Timmy. “Is it Timmy?”
Tommy’s eyes brightened with a glimmer of hope, but he still shook his head, indicating that wasn’t quite right.
“Was I close?” Will asked, looking at Tommy with a hopeful expression.
Tommy nodded several times, letting out a positive grunt.
Will laughed and grinned. “I think I got it!” He played with the letters in the dirt, switching one around and finally wrote “Tommy.”
“Your name is Tommy,” he said, glancing at Tommy with pride.
Tommy’s face lit up with enthusiasm, his smile growing so wide he hardly noticed. He nodded vigorously, a bright expression of happiness spreading across his face.
Will extended his hand for a shake. “Nice to meet you, Tommy.”
Tommy stared at Will’s outstretched hand, then looked up at Will’s encouraging smile. The warmth of the gesture sank in, and Tommy thought to himself, ‘Will.’
He shook his hand.
~ Who are you to change this world? ~
~ Silly boy ~
~ No one needs to hear your words ~
~ Let it go ~