Jason's Journey

by: Kelvin A. R. King | Story In Progress | Last updated Jun 15, 2024


Chapter 6
Buenas Noches

The tension in the air is palpable. Dinner is a mostly silent affair tonight. Isaiah and Alysa have clearly been texting each other, and the two of them are exchanging looks periodically, but I guess no one plans to verbalize anything while I’m listening. I really do want –no need –to know what they are talking about, but it’s not like I can snatch the phone out of Isaiah’s hand and take a peek. I sigh. I’m always so close to the end of this game but always out of moves.

Isaiah is still feeding me my food, and it’s pretty good. We’re having spaghetti, corn and meat. They have a bib on me tonight, I guess it’s because I already had a bath. While the bib does bug me, I’d rather not have another weird bath with either of them, so I keep my mouth shut about it. I kick my legs in the chair while I wait for Isaiah to finish his current text.

When I finally finish my plate, Isaiah wipes my face with a wet paper towel. He walks me to the kid pen and grabs a tablet along the way. He puts me in the pen and starts a show on the tablet. When he hands it to me, I take it, very interested to see what he put on.

Of course, it’s one of those kiddie shows. I know I have to at least pretend to watch the show because they’re never going to talk out loud if I’m looking in their direction. I can feel their stares at me, and I keep my head down on the tablet.

Finally, my efforts seem to pay off, “I’m scared, Isaiah,” Alysa whispers, her voice cracking between words, “What if this only gets worse?”

“I know,” Isaiah says, and he sounds emotional too. “I reached out to one of my friends who’s a child psychiatrist, this is what he said. Here.”

They don’t say anything else for a while. I guess he’s showing her something on his phone. I get bored waiting while they do that and look at the show on the tablet just to pass the time. It’s one of those animated cartoons, and I’m at a part where they are doing a nursery song.

It’s colorful, well animated and just all-around impressive. The scenes are changing really fast, and every time I think I’m going to stop watching it, another scene starts, and I am intrigued, so I watch another and another. The music is very catchy, uplifting and happy while the characters bounce around from one activity to the next. There are so many shapes and objects and colors, and the sounds get louder and louder. I feel like I’m inside the show, and I’m having fun too.

I don’t know how long I’m sitting there fully absorbed in the show. I startle when I feel Isaiah rub my back. I take my eyes off of the show for a second and quickly look back. The episode isn’t over, so I don’t want to miss anything. This is like the most entertaining kid show I’ve ever seen in my life. Isaiah says something, but I barely hear him over the chattering of the characters.

That is until Isaiah tugs the tablet out of my grasp and stands up with it way out of my reach.

“No! Me! Me! Me!” I stand up and shout. It’s mine, my show! How dare he!

“I’m sorry Jason, it’s time to get ready for bed. I bet you had so much fun watching the show, but now it’s time for bed,” he ruffles my hair and puts the tablet on a shelf. “Come on let’s get ready for bed.”

“No!” I shout. I want to watch the show. It’s the one good thing that’s happened to me through all of this, and I’m not going to let him take it away. I don’t care if it’s bedtime. I’m going to watch this show.

Alysa comes over and tries talking me down. “It’s bedtime Jason, you can watch a show tomorrow too.”

“No!” I scream, spit spewing in the air. I’m the kind of mad where I see red, and I don’t care who or what is in my way. I am going to get that tablet back. “No!” I pull at the gate of the pen and use the one word that I know works, “No!”

Alysa lifts me out and when she starts leading me in the opposite direction of the tablet, “It’s okay, Jason. Mommy and Daddy will let you watch tomorrow.”

I feel the anger rippling through my body. I tug my hand out of her grasp and turn around for the tablet. She catches my hand again before I can get far. I refuse to let her drag me upstairs. I tug my hand as hard as I could, but before I could get free, she adds a second hand to tighten her grip on me. When I tug again, she just holds her ground and lets me twist and turn. I know what she’s doing. It’s the same thing every time where she just lets me tire myself out so I can’t fight back anymore. I’m out of moves and my adrenaline is surging looking for a way out, and before I even think about what I’m doing, I sink my teeth into her wrist.

“Ow, Jason!” Alysa screams and let go of me completely. I immediately run towards the tablet. I pick it up and scan the room to see where I am going to hide with it. I know punishment is coming, so I had better enjoy the freedom I still have while I can.

“Jason!” Isaiah’s voice thunders and I stop midstride and turn around in fear, “Did you just bite your Mommy?”

The tone of his voice makes me feel small. I drop the tablet, and I can barely hear it hit the ground over the sound of my heartbeat in my ears. Now I’m really out of moves. Isaiah steps toward me. He says something but it’s almost like I’m having an out of body experience and I can’t figure out what he’s saying. I just know that I feel threatened, and I’m so far gone, all I have left is to rely on my instincts.

My fight or flight kicks in. I know I can’t outrun him, so I gear myself up to fight, but before I even have the opportunity to bite him too, he hoists me under his right arm and holds me by my waist.

‘That. Is. Enough,” he says. We are going to have a chat about your behavior, and then you’re going to bed.”

I know I did something really bad, and I don’t want to find out how horrible the punishment is going to be. One thing is for sure: I don’t want to find out what this talk is going to be like. No!” I shout while he carries me upstairs.

I do my best to resist, but I get no purchase at all. Kicking, punching, wiggling, spitting–all of it–gets no response from Isaiah on the trip upstairs. I’m vertical again when he puts me in the crib. I don’t waste any time, and I stand up immediately to scream at him, “No! Owt Owt!”

Isaiah pinches the bridge of his nose for a moment. He takes a deep breath. “Daddy will come back to talk to you once I check on Mommy to make sure she’s okay. Your behavior was very naughty, and Daddy is very disappointed in you.”

I know I’m out of control, but I can’t stop it. I’m an adult. I get to make my own choices. I get to watch TV when I want and how I want, and Isaiah doesn’t get to tell me what to do. I kick my foot again the padded sides of the crib. I slam my fists against the mattress and throw my legs out at any surface in my way. I scream and shout what would be swear words as loud as I can.

I go on and on until the red fades, and when I finally come back down, I pant to catch my breath. My throat hurts and I just feel so empty and crappy on the inside. With the anger gone, it is now the guilt and remorse for what I did at the front and center of my mind. I didn’t want to bite Alysa. I was just so caught up in my resentment and powerlessness.

I can’t even explain myself. So, now just like everyone else in my whole life, they think I’m just a bad, wild child, and I’m not. I just can’t control it. My anger takes on a life of my own, and nothing I’ve ever done is enough to stop it once it starts. I hate that the truth is that my anger scares me too. I never know what I’m going to do–how far I’m going to go.

When I conjure a mental image of Alysa tending to a bleeding wrist because of what I did, I feel sick. Isaiah is gone so long I bet she’s hurt so bad. Oh god. What did I do? I bury my face in my arms, and the world around me feels like it’s falling apart.

When Isaiah walks in the nursery again, I peer over the side of the crib. “I sowee,” I say blinking through falling tears. I sob. “I sowee.”

“Oh, Jason,” Isaiah scoops me up into his arms. “It’s okay. Mommy and Daddy know you didn’t mean it.”

His reassurance just makes me cry harder. Even when I’m bad, they still care about me. I can’t believe it. I don’t understand it, and something about it just unleashes a torrent of emotion from within me. Years and years of being misunderstood and alone are transformed into deep, pained sobs.

“It’s okay,” Isaiah rocks me. “Shhh, it’s okay.”

I don’t know how long I cried in his arms, but at some point, he switched to bouncing me and pacing back and forth in the room. It does soothe me some, and I rest my head on his shoulder, whimpering and sniffling, feeling as small as I look.

Isaiah grabs a tissue box from a shelf, takes a seat on the couch and sits me on his lap. He wipes my tears and cleans the snot from my nose. “Blow,” he tells me, and I do. It’s gross, but I do feel a lot better.

When I look at Isaiah’s face, he seems kind of sad too, and I don’t know why since I’m the one who really messed up. Even though I’ve known him for many years in many different capacities, sometimes this guy is still a bit of a mystery to me.

Isaiah clears his throat. “Even though you were very naughty earlier,” he begins, and I tear up at the disappointment in his voice, “Daddy knows you were just so mad, and your emotions were so big.”

I look down in shame, but he ruffles my hair, and tilts my chin up with his thumb. “Daddy knows you’re very sorry, but Mommy needs to know that too, okay?”

I nod my head.

“Alright, let’s see Mommy and get you a nice, warm bottle before bed,” he lifts me back into his arms. I keep my head resting on his shoulder while he walks through the hallways and down the stairs.

Alysa is downstairs with her reading glasses on again sitting at the dining table. When she notices us, she snaps it shut, I see the title of the book for a moment before she sets it down. It’s something about parenting a child with intense emotions.

Great. I guess I’m in for some weird book-based routines. But it’s not like I don’t deserve it for earlier. I take a deep breath and do what I know I’m supposed to and should do.

“Mommy, I sowie,” I say as sincerely as I can. I decided to pile on the cute factor with it too since I really am sorry for what I did. I figure she deserves at least that concession on my end.

“Aw Jason,” her face lights up. She stands and takes me from Isaiah’s arms. “Mommy is so proud of you for apologizing.”

“Look,” she says. “Mommy is feeling all better,” she shows me her hand and I don’t see any bleeding or anything. I didn’t break skin. I feel like a weight is lifted off my shoulders and I breathe a sigh of relief. I am so glad it isn’t as bad as I thought.

She pulls me back to look me in the eyes, the concern all too evident in hers. “I heard you cry so much earlier. Is my little boy feeling better now?”

“Yesth,” I say my cheeks reddening a tad in embarrassment. Somehow, I didn’t think I was that loud.

“Good,” she smiles. “Well, it’s bedtime now. We have a busy day tomorrow, so let’s make sure you’re all rested. She turns around, “Oh, look Daddy has a bottle for you.”

“Guess what,” she holds me close and whispers. “Tomorrow, we are going to hang out with some of Mommy’s friends we haven’t seen in a while.”

I look up at her surprised and curious, and I think about how long this dream has been going on. I feel nervous about how things are going, but I just shake it off and look between Alysa and Isaiah.

“Okay,” she kisses me on the forehead and hands me to Isaiah. “I’m going to bed too. Sleep tight, Jason.”

She heads upstairs and Isaiah takes me with him to get a bib from a drawer. We go back to the kiddie room, and he sits me on the couch, puts the bib on me and hands me a bottle. I take it, but the idea of drinking through a nipple feels so odd and foreign. While he gets the room ready for me to go to bed, I just sit there awkwardly with it in my hands. I squeeze the tip with my finger, thinking about how weird it is that kids can drink so much liquid out of such a tiny hole.

I guess Isaiah notices me playing with the bottle, so he tilts me back, puts the nipple in my mouth and squeezes the bottle enough for some of the milk to come through. Somehow, that small amount in my mouth triggers some animalistic instinct in me. Just like that, drinking out of a bottle feels righter than anything else. Why do people ever stop drinking out of bottles? The exertion and sensation are both so soothing and fulfilling. With every breath between sips, I feel more and more relaxed, and pretty soon my eyes are drooping.

I only wake back up for a moment when Isaiah takes the bottle from me and lifts me into his arms. But by the time that he lays me down again to change my diaper, I’m off far away in the world of dreams.

 


 

End Chapter 6

Jason's Journey

by: Kelvin A. R. King | Story In Progress | Last updated Jun 15, 2024

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Deskie · Oct 11, 2022

I've been waiting so long for an update to your story! I absolutely love how it's playing out so far and can't wait to see where you take it!

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Ouroboros · Oct 12, 2022

Such an interesting story! Making even the reader unsure of the cause of regression or if it even is regression has me trying to guess and read on to find out. Good work!

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