Henry Warren woke to the sound of his alarm clock, buzzing sharply throughout the room. He rolled onto his back and fumbled for the alarm’s off button, and sat upright. He rubbed his eyes, and noticed his wife missing. He yawned, assuming she was already downstairs, preparing breakfast.

He assumed right. Henry slumped downstairs, aroused by the smell of hot coffee and bacon. He squinted his eyes upon entering the kitchen. Natural light filtered all through the room, unlike his bedroom, where the curtains were almost always drawn.

He approached his wife, Sophie, who was preoccupied scrambling the eggs and pouring coffee for herself.

“You don’t have to cook, you know,” Henry said casually as he kissed her on the cheek. She smiled gently.

“It’s one of the only ways I can still be a mom, Henry, you know that.”

“Yeah, I guess so. Where’s June and Maya? I thought you would have called them down before me.”

“I did,” Sophie answered, sighing, “but they’ve been so excited for today’s game that they’re already dressed and practicing outside.”

Henry chuckled. He loved having daughters who were fanatics for baseball like himself. Sometimes Henry found it hard to believe that he owned the Chicago Cubs Wrigley Stadium. Starting as a talented entrepreneur with some money, he worked his way up to a renowned businessman, and then bought the stadium.

Henry left the kitchen and opened the door to the backyard. Outside, his daughters were engaged in a miniature baseball game, June the younger of the two, batting, and Maya pitching. Henry watched June’s almost flawless form as she swung at the perfect moment. Maya looked straight up, watching the baseball sail away, at least a good two hundred feet or so.

Henry clapped encouragingly, startling the two girls. June grinned at her dad, giving him a thumbs up. He returned the gesture, opening his arms wide as June ran to hug him.

“Daddy!” She screamed, practically squeezing him. “The game! We’re gonna be late!”

“No we won’t darling,” Henry cooed, stroking June’s short chestnut hair, “let’s eat breakfast and then we’ll leave, alright?”

June nodded excitedly, and went inside the house. Maya walked over to her dad, smiling.

“She’s a natural, isn’t she?” Maya asked. Henry nodded.

“Mm, she is, but you’re not a bad pitcher yourself. I’ll take the binoculars today so you can watch the pitcher’s form on the field. How’s that sound?”

Maya nodded, smiling, and the two joined Sophie and June for breakfast.
--

The baseball stadium was already becoming crowded, with all kinds of fans, young and old. Some spectators waved signs, while others still took photos of friends, bought food, and rushed to their seats.

Henry and his family, naturally, had a box seat. The seats themselves were a dark leather, with cup holders and reclining settings. A bar/kitchen was in the back of the room, along with a flat screen TV for instant replays.


June jumped excitedly in her seat. She looked around the room, occasionally jumping up to get a better look at the antique photographs lining the walls. Maya rolled her eyes, turning on her iPod and ignoring June’s chatter.

“What’s this, Daddy? Who’s he? He’s old…”

Henry chuckled, settling into his seat, admiring the stadium. He loved his life. Why shouldn’t he? Henry was a multimillionaire, he owned the Wrigley Stadium, and his family was as perfect as could be. He smiled to himself as the game began.
--

“That was amazing!” June pretended to faint as she described the last inning of the game. “The batter swings after the second out, and BAM! A homerun! That was like the coolest thing I’ve ever seen! In my life!”

“Glad, you enjoyed it, sweetheart,” Sophie said, although she wasn’t a huge fan of the sport herself. “Let’s go home and finish that school paper, ok?”

June’s excitement immediately dropped, but she nodded. Henry began to reach for his bag to pull out some candy for her, when he realized it wasn’t there.


“Shoot,” Henry said. “Sophie, I left my bag in the room. You go ahead with the girls.”

“Henry…” she sighed, shaking her head.

“I’ll be right back!” He called, already walking back to the room. He pushed against the massive crowd in front of him, everyone excited to leave and tell their friends. After passing the densest part of the crowd, Henry was thankful for an almost deserted stadium.

Upon reaching the room, Henry shuffled in his pocket for his key, opened the door, and was surprised to see another man there.

He was fairly tall, with graying hair and wrinkles around his eyes. Henry guessed the man was quite a bit older than him, maybe 50 or older. The man was staring outside the window of the box, seemingly absorbed in thought.

“Excuse me,” Henry said, clearing his throat, “but this is a private room. How did you get in?”

The man turned around, genuinely surprised.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he replied, putting his hands in his pockets. “You’re Mr. Warren, aren’t you? This is a lovely stadium.”

“Thank you,” Henry said, becoming suspicious, “but may I ask your name?”

“Charles,” he said coolly, “Greyson. I’m a sponsor for the games here. Do you come to every game?”

“I do,” Henry said tensely. He didn’t like this Charles figure. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave, sponsor or not. I’m sorry, but you don’t have permission to be here.”

“You’re right,” Charles admitted. “But I came for a specific reason. I have an offer you won’t want to refuse.” Charles smirked. “Well, it’s more of a command.”

Henry heard the door slam shut behind him, but he remained calm on the outside.

“What do you want? Money?” Henry asked, his voice slightly wavering.

“No. I want you to participate in a little contest. You will win money if you succeed in the contest.”

“Sorry, but I’m not interested,” Henry said. “I’ve got plenty of money, thank you. Now, please, let me leave. I’ll give you money. Please, I have kids at home.”

Charles chuckled, taking a step towards Henry.

“Oh, I’m fully aware of them, Mr. Warren. June and Maya Warren. Eight and 15, attend private schools. Both aspire to play Baseball. Grades average at 92%. Blood type, AB and O, respectively.”

Henry’s heartbeat faltered. He had never told a single reporter, friend, anyone else specifics about his children. He hard a hard time finding his voice, leaving Charles to continue.

“I told you this wasn’t an offer. The way I see it, you have to participate, unless you’d like your children to become very familiar with the barrel of a gun.”

“I’ll give you all the money I have,” Henry stumbled, becoming desperate. “Everything. Please, let my daughters go. They never did anything. Don’t drag them into this.”

“If you want them set free, I suppose you’ll have to just join the contest,” Charles said softly, shrugging his shoulders.

“Alright, alright,” Henry said nervously. “Just what exactly am I expected to do in this competition?” Charles began to explain.

“I’ve chosen 100 people over the country for this competition. If you do the math, that’s two people per state. The object is to “eliminate” other contenders using any means possible. Your first opponent will be the other one here, in Illinois. If you succeed in Eliminating him, you move on with the fifty other contenders. If you drop out, however, a decent sum of money is owed to me, not to mention the unfortunate fate of any loved ones. Simple enough, yes?”

“What if I am “eliminated”?” Henry asked. He didn’t like the sound of the word, like he was supposed to kill is opponent.

“Oh, that’s the fun part. You’ll never know until you’re actually Eliminated,” Charles said this with a mischievous grin plastered on his face. Henry’s skin prickled at the sight.

Henry couldn’t comprehend the thought of this competition. Charles was being too vague. How was he supposed to Eliminate people? Tagging them? Was some sort of deception involved at all? As if reading his mind, Charles spoke again.

“All in good time, the rules to this little game will become clear. In the mean time, I suggest you prepare for tomorrow. I’ve already informed the other contender, and he doesn’t live far from you. I’d keep my head low if I were you. Oh, another thing. I’ll give you a hint about your competitor.”

Charles was now face to face with Henry, his stare calm but intimidating. It made Henry want to vomit, seeing a smug and reassured man securing money from randomly selected people.

“He’s poor,” Charles said. “And ridiculously gullible. I doubt you’ll have trouble with him. Well, until we meet again…”

Charles began to head for the door.

“And when might that be?” Henry inquired.

“Sooner than you think.” And Charles was gone. Henry left the room with his bag, looking in all directions for Charles, but the stadium and the walkways were completely empty. Henry shook the bad feeling that was creeping in his mind away. He didn’t need another worry. But how on earth was he going to find a single man in a city of millions?

Henry decided to not tell his family.

His family.

Henry darted frantically for his car, pushing past a janitor and almost knocking down a popcorn cart. He ran as fast as he could when he got to the parking lot, ignoring the honks and screeches of cars still trying to leave. He began to slow when he saw his car still in the front of the stadium, along with his wife and daughters. When he pulled the car door open, slammed it shut, and began to breathe again, Sophie was utterly confused.

“Henry?” She said. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” he lied, still catching his breath, “I didn’t want to keep you waiting.”

Sophie stared at him concernedly, then sighed and buckled up. Henry put the car in reverse and pulled out of the parking lot, giving June a piece of chocolate.
--

Henry lied in thought that night, staring up at his ceiling blankly, then at his clock, which read 11:43 PM. He thought about what Charles told him, about what he’d do to his daughters if Henry dropped out. He was suddenly afraid. He was afraid for his daughters, afraid for his wife. Afraid for his life. That night Henry didn’t sleep a wink.

“Morning, sleepy head,” a serene voice said. Henry blinked furiously as he realized the blinds in his bedroom were pulled away. He bolted upright, remembering Charles, the competition, the poor man he had to Eliminate.

‘Whoa!” Sophie exclaimed, getting up from the bed. “Henry, what is going on?”

“Nothing!” He hadn’t meant to shout, but he was taken by surprise himself. “I m-mean, I’m sorry, I was just… My sales haven’t been so great lately and…”

Sophie shook her head, laughing.

“You are too strange, Mr. Warren,” she chuckled, kissing his forehead. “I’ll go make lunch. No, I don’t have to wake up the girls. It’s Monday, and you’ve slept in.”

Henry looked at the clock. 12:04 it read, as if mocking him. He jumped out of bed and showered hurriedly, drying his hair with a towel and throwing on a sweater and jeans. He sort of half-skipped down the stairs, walking to the side to move faster. When he approached Sophie, he took the piece of toast she made and gobbled it down, then gulping down his coffee, he headed for the door.

“Where are you going?” Sophie asked. Henry turned around before closing the door.

“I need some fresh air…” He muttered, blowing her a kiss goodbye. As Henry headed for his car, he thought of all the places where homeless people would hang around. He racked his brain for answers, but growing up in a fairly wealthy home left him living in the rich suburbs, away from the harder parts of town.

At last, he decided he would search downtown. He figured Charles would have given the other man information about him, so Henry was hoping they’d run into each other. But in a city as big as Chicago, the odds were small.

Downtown was a vibrant place. During the day, businessmen of all kinds would rush to work, calling taxis, emailing on their phone. Shops would open early in the morning, selling groceries to the latest electronic devices. At night, the city lit up like thousands of Chinese lanterns, so bright you’d hardly need a streetlamp. The nightclubs would open, and that’s when the colors of the city would reflect into Lake Michigan, giving off a red-blue haze that would last the night.

That’s why Henry loved Chicago. He loved waking every morning to a peaceful countryside, and then driving only a few minutes to reach downtown. It was almost too good for him, until he read the morning’s headlines:

Henry Warren Still Refuses Donation to Children’s Hospital

By Justin Sutherland

Some in fact question Warren’s sanity. I in fact question his action. It is appalling that a man with so much reputation as
a businessman and father would turn down such a request. Warren reportedly turned down the request after last
week’s
Cub’s game. He was phoned by Emily Roberts, a respected donator for the Children’s Hospital in Chicago.
She requested that Warren donate because of the recent drop
in stocks. This left the
Children’s Hospital in
shambles,
several children not getting the medical attention they needed. There is still no mention of why Warren refused to donate, but the
response has left several hundreds of citizens in Chicago frustrated.

“It’s ridiculous that with his money
he
wouldn’t
even acknowledge his
own
city’s hospital,” Tracey Montgomery told Chicago Sun
Times. “what if his children got in an accident? Where would they go? It’s like he doesn’t even care for his children. It’s just wrong.” Henry Warren left no

Henry Warren on his way to work
Comment.







On April 4th, Tuesday.








“Damn,” Henry muttered under his breath. “So what if I don’t give money to a hospital,” he shook his head. “for Christ’s sake…”

Henry continued walking through the town, examining the people, the stores, the busy rode with angry drivers and the community preoccupied with every little thing imaginable. Henry put on a baseball cap, as to avoid suspicion. Since his face was on the front page of the newspaper, he didn’t want some nosy person giving him grief.

Suddenly a man approached him. He was wearing a tattered coat and torn black slacks, his bright blue eyes giving him life in comparison to every other detail. He held a bag in one hand, a tin cup in another. He was relatively young, about 25 or so. Henry felt pity for the man, being poor at such a fabulous age.

“Spare change, sir?” He asked rather brightly. Henry was taken aback, and kept walking. He rather disliked homeless people. They would follow you if you had money, and made you feel bad if you just passed them. Henry figured he could walk by and the man would leave him alone, but he was persistent.

“Mister,” he said again, catching up with Henry, “I don’t think you heard me. Please, you’ve gotta have some money with you. Anything?”

“No, I don’t,” Henry muttered, zipping up his sweater, his patience slowly wearing like a frayed cord. There was something about this boy that bothered him. Perhaps he was too relentless for a kid on the streets, or maybe that was how it was now.

“What’s your name?” He asked. Henry stopped.

“Why do you want to know?”

“I’m curious. You look familiar…”

“It’s Scott.”

“Scott?”

“Yeah. Scott Sutherland.”

Henry used the last name he saw in the newspaper. It was the only thing that came to mind, and the young man bought it.

“And yours?”


“What?”

“Your name.”

“Oh! Jesse. Valentine. Pleased to meet you, Scott.”

Jesse thrust an arm out at Henry. Henry just stared, wondering just how often that hand was washed. Hesitantly, he shook it. Jesse’s grip was firm, and he smiled at Henry. Henry looked into Jesse’s piercing eyes, and he knew he wouldn’t leave him any time soon. Henry sighed.

“Come on. We’re going for lunch.”
--

“Wow, I haven’t eaten this well since… Hm… Since ever, I guess.”

Jesse patted his stomach, helping himself to another biscuit at a café they stopped to eat at. Henry ordered himself a small soup and some tea, sipping at both carefully.

“That how you always eat?” Jesse asked, smirking. “You are how you eat, I always say. You must be pretty rich with those table manners.”

“You’re good, Jesse,” Henry said, wiping his mouth with a napkin, “I’ll give you that. Now, what do you want?” Jesse sat farther into his seat, pleased with the meal.

“I just want some money and some love, that’s all,” Jesse sighed, becoming lost in a daydream. “I want the life I never had, you know?”

“You were born like this?” Henry asked. “I thought most homeless people just managed their money badly.”

“Yeah, that was my parents’ fault,” Jesse replied, stretching his arms. “They- well, my dad- was a drinker. I loved him to death.”

“What happened?”

“Well, then he died.”

Henry put his hand to his forehead. “Jesus…” He muttered.

“It was a car accident. We were on our way to a baseball game. One wrong turn and bam, I remember waking up in the hospital. They told me that my mom was dead and they couldn’t find my dad, so I figured he got thrown out into a river or something.”

Henry let the information digest, sipping his tea again.

“The Wrigley Stadium, right?”

“That’s the one.”

“You a fan of baseball?”

“The biggest.”

“I see.”

“What?” Jesse asked. “Is there something you’re trying to say?” Henry looked away, thinking of an excuse.

“I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“Then tell me.”

“It’s complicated, alright?”

“That’s not telling me anything.

“Listen!” Henry shouted, slamming his hands on the table. The utensils rattled sharply, while several people exchanged nervous glances at Henry and Jesse. Jesse stayed calm. “I’ve been so frustrated lately! My business isn’t doing so well, not to mention Charles and his stupid-”

Henry shut his mouth, but it was too late. Jesse stared at Henry, dumbfounded.

“It’s you…” Jesse muttered, his eyes getting wider by the moment. “I would have never guessed Charles meant you…”

“Jesse,” Henry said quickly, getting up from the table. “Let’s talk for a moment.”

“Charles told me to Eliminate you…” Jesse said in barely a whisper. He closed his eyes. “I asked him what he meant.”

He drew a knife from his pocket.

“I have to kill you.”

Henry darted away, Jesse right on his tail. Jesse jumped up onto the table, spilling the soup and shattering the small vase in the center. Henry began tipping chairs behind him to cut off Jesse’s pursuit. Jesse cursed as he tumbled to the ground, people angrily shouting at him about their seats. Henry took the chance and began darting down the sidewalk, running past the huge masses of people. Some gave dirty looks while others shoved back.

Henry kept running until he entered a clothing store, walking quickly to the escalator. He continued pressing past people, constantly looking back. Suddenly, Jesse appeared around the corner outside the store, and their eyes meet. Henry cursed, moving faster up the escalator.

He could hear the complaints behind him. He knew Jesse was moving in fast. As Henry made it to the top of the escalator, he ran to the side of it and tugged at a huge power cord. It finally gave way, and the escalator came to an abrupt halt. The people riding on it at the time were thrown forward and down.


Henry kept running, wondering if it would stop Jesse and for how long. He hid among the several rows of men’s clothing, randomly picking out a shirt and jeans. He hurriedly purchased them while the cashier gave him a wary look. He thanked her, and ran into the nearest dressing room, tossing his old clothes aside and changing into the new ones.

After leaving the dressing room, Henry departed the store by leaving through the emergency exit. There were a set of stairs that led to an alleyway, then to the street. Henry walked briskly, not wanting to go through the same thing again.

“Don’t move, or I’ll blow your goddamn head off.”

Henry froze. There was no mistaking it.

Jesse.

Slowly, Henry put his hands up. He could feel the cold tip of the gun pressing behind his head. Adrenaline pumped fiercely in Henry’s body as Jesse cocked the gun.

“Charles told me we had to kill our opponent to move on,” Jesse said coldly, “and after that, we’ll be rewarded a very nice sum of money. Then comes the next round. By then I’ll be able to buy food, rent an apartment, I won’t be spat on by the likes of you.”

“Why are you doing this?” Henry asked, trembling slightly. “What could bring you so low to kill a man?”

“Oh, you wouldn’t understand,” Jesse said nonchalantly, holding the gun closer. “You’re rich. You’ve got everything you need. How would you know what it’s like to grow up in the slums of Chicago, to have everyone look down on you, to be hated for no reason. That, my friend, is no way to live!”

Henry was pushed to the ground, Jesse’s eyes glowing with hate. He held the gun with both hands, shaking slightly.

“It’s people like you that we don’t need! You’re better off dead!”

Henry held his hands in front of Jesse, trying to get him to stop.

“Jesse, don’t do it,” Henry said, sweat accumulating on his forehead. “I have kids at home, for God’s sake! Put down the gun, please.”

“I never got attention, I never got respect,” Jesse hissed, his fingers curling around the trigger. “It’s not fair!”

“Think about what you’re doing, Jesse!” Henry shouted back at him. “This- killing me- this won’t bring you respect! People will hate you, Jesse. They’ll want you dead. Don’t do it. Just let me go. I’ll give you money. I promise.”

Jesse’s guard dropped for a moment, giving Henry the opportunity to attack him. Henry managed to yank the gun from Jesse’s hands, pushing Jesse to the ground. The tables had turned. Henry didn’t point the gun at Jesse, but held it tightly in his hand.

“Just calm down, alright?!” Henry yelled as Jesse began sobbing. “I won’t shoot you! I couldn’t. I understand why you’re so broken. But listen to me, it’s Charles’ fault you’re like this. How many lies did he stick into your head? If we both work together, we’ll both make it out alive, OK?”

Jesse said nothing. He reeled on the ground, clutching his stomach. Henry put the gun in his back pocket, lending a hand to Jesse. Jesse looked up at Henry with his piercing blue eyes, and wiped the saliva from his mouth. He stood up, his breath gradually slowing down. He leaned against the building, putting his hands in his pockets.

“…You’re right.” He finally said. Henry looked up; he was preoccupied digging up all the money he had in his wallet to give to Jesse. “No, I don’t want it. It’s not worth it. Charles was trying to trick me. I can’t believe it…”

Henry put his wallet back in his pocket, leaning against the wall next to Jesse. They both just stared at the sky for a few moments, admiring the bright sun, the clouds, knowing that they were trapped. Trapped by Charles’ curse. A curse they could only escape if they stopped the man.

And they had to start soon.

--

Henry called Sophie on a payphone next to a smoggy bus stop. He told her he’d be on a business trip for a few days and that all his clothing was already sent to his hotel. She instantly fell for the lie, making Henry’s stomach ache with guilt. He hadn’t realized how much his wife trusted him. He hung up the phone, turning to face Jesse.

“Now what?” Jesse asked.

“We’ll rent a place to stay. In the meantime, I’ll get us a room, and you’ll check the phonebooks for Charles Greyson. I doubt he’d be in there, but it wouldn’t hurt to check. Meet me outside the Marionette in half an hour. Good luck.”

“Th-the M-…” Jesse said, looking as if he just had a heart attack. “That place is… So expensive…”

“And that’s exactly why we’re staying there,” Henry explained. “The Grand Marionette is infamous for its marble bathtubs and poor history of keeping track of its customers. We’ll be almost anonymous if we stay there.”

Jesse nodded, and started flipping through a giant Yellow Pages. Henry began walking to the hotel.

The Grand Marionette opened in 1923 by a few rich American actors. It was strictly for the wealthiest patrons, with indeed marble bathtubs, lush gardens, and lavish rooms lined with intricate paintings, grand pianos, and even water fountains.

Henry checked into room 119 and entered the elevator. When he finally made it to the room, he opened the door and checked out the area. There were two very large bedrooms, a living room, and a small kitchen to the side. The living room had two elegant red couches and a flat screen TV. Henry put his coat on the kitchen counter and sat down at a mahogany desk.

Then he noticed something.

When he entered the room, the door wasn’t locked. That seemed more than a little strange to Henry, knowing that the room was brand new. Also, hotels usually left brochures on the desk of a room, but only a business card and a note was there. The business card read: Charles Greyson. Attorney at Law. Doctorate’s Degree at Yale Law School. Experienced lawyer for over 25 years. Phone number 562-126-4450.

Henry cursed to himself, his nerves starting to wear. Is he playing with me? Henry asked himself. What’s he getting at? Apprehensively, Henry reached for the note. It was folded, ripped, and the writing was barely legible:

To Mr. Henry Warren,


By now I assume you’ve gotten Jesse to side with you. I’m not surprised. Remember, I told you he was gullible. Now is your real test. See what you can get out of him. Once you gain his trust, he’ll tell you anything. Believe me, I’ve known him before this meeting, although he won’t know me. I’ll make you a deal. If you get Jesse to tell you information about his past life, I’ll let you off the hook. I’ll drop you from the competition, and no harm will come to your family. I’ll be expecting your phone call in three days.
Sincerely,









Charles Greyson

Henry put the paper down, his hands trembling. His mind was racing like mad, trying to understand what he just read. To leave Jesse? To trick this young boy for his own good? Henry couldn’t bear the idea.

But he never let the thought slip away. As he put on his coat again, the idea nagged in his mind. A small, insignificant idea, but like a virus, it began to spread in his mind. If he tricked Jesse, he could go home. If he tricked Jesse, he wouldn’t have to compete in this pointless contest.

“Hey, Henry, where are you?” Jesse said on his cell phone. Henry couldn’t help but grin. A sick, Charles-like grin, plastered on his face.

“I’m coming.”

--

Down the stairs, Henry could see through the giant glass window, over the receptionist’s desk, and in between the wooden pillars holding the building up. There, Jesse waited outside the hotel like he said, being eyed by a very angry hotel guard. Henry rushed outside, stopping the guard.

“He’s with me,” Henry said, smiling. “Thank you.”

Henry and Jesse walked inside the hotel, checking in once again. When Jesse entered the hotel room, his jaw dropped at the sight.

“… Holy CRAP!” He said, grinning like a little kid. He threw off his ragged coat and raced around the room, touching the TV, shouting in joy as he found the marble bathtubs, and falling onto his satin bed, sighing.

“The thing’s I’ve missed out in life…” he mumbled. Henry couldn’t help but chuckle, although he knew his friendship with the boy wouldn’t last. When Jesse sat up to gawk at his hotel key, his smile faded.

“… 119.” He said in a vague voice, his expression very solemn.

“What about it?”

“The eleventh month, on the ninth day. That was the day…”

“The day the Chicago Cubs beat the Philadelphia Phillies, 6-0...” Henry finished the sentence, letting the words roll off his tongue. “But… That was almost 15 years ago. What’s so important about it?”

Jesse slumped forward. Out of his pants pocket, he pulled out a piece of paper, and unfolded it twice. He handed it to Henry, who sat on a chair next to the bed.

“My dad,” Jesse said, pointing out the person in the picture. “And me,” he said gently, as if his voice was smiling. “When I was little, we’d walk along Lake Michigan’s coast. Almost every morning, before he went to work, we’d walk. And we’d talk about nothing but baseball.”

Henry listened intently. He was getting the information he needed without having to ask Jesse.

“I was in the Little League baseball,” Jesse said, smiling shyly. “I remember that. He’d take me to every game. He’d shout out into the field, ‘Time to play, Jesse! I’m rootin’ for ya!’ And I’d play my heart out. I loved exciting the crowd. When I was up to bat, I’d let the first pitch sail past me. ‘Strike one!’ The umpire would shout. Again, I’d ignore the baseball. ‘Steerike two!’ And just as the third baseball would speed towards me, the umpire would begin to say, ‘Strike-’ I’d swing, and the sound of the bat and the baseball was like music to my ears.

“I’d look up, seeing the baseball drift through the sky so slowly, then landing outside the metal fence. The crowd cheered as I ran the bases. I was a hero.”

Henry found himself smiling. It was wonderful to know Jesse had a happy childhood.

“But when I was home, my life was a living hell.”

Henry’s smile grew fainter and fainter as he looked at Jesse’s horror-stricken face. Jesse clutched his picture tighter.

“And my father was the devil,” Jesse heaved. “When he drank, he was someone else. He wasn’t my dad. I would stand against the wall of the living room. Next to him was a baseball bat, his fingers curling around the handle ever so delicately.
“Time to play.

“He ran at me with the bat, smashing the wall in, missing me by inches.

“Strike one.

“I begged for my life as I ran out the room.”

“Jesse,” Henry said, closing his eyes, not wanting to hear anymore. “That’s enough.”

“Two strikes.

“I cowered in the corner of the bedroom, covering my eyes. He glanced at the family

picture of me and him, the one I’m holding right now. He brought the bat down on it,

shattering the glass, and wiped it off the desk.”

“Jesse, for Christ’s sake, I get it, now stop,” Henry said frantically, standing from the

chair.

“Three strikes.”

“Jesse, enough is enough!” Henry shouted, his voice breaking.

“He lifted the bat above my head-”

“Stop it! Stop it now!”

“-smiling.”

“Jesse, goddamn it!”

“You’re out.”

Jesse was silent. Henry sat back down, his expression dumbfounded. No one spoke for the longest time.

“Do you think,” Henry started, “that your father can manipulate you? That he can do what he wants to you?

Jesse didn’t answer.

“He can‘t,” Henry said coldly. “He sure as hell can‘t. Don’t let that monster eat you up. Don’t let him tell you what’s right and wrong, because all he’ll do is lie.”


Jesse blinked away tears, folding up his picture again.

“It’s strange, isn’t it…” He said softly. “To have the only person that makes you happy be your worst nightmare.”

“Jes,” Henry sighed. “Well, I’ll leave you alone for now. Tomorrow, we’ll search for Charles. Get some rest.”

And with that, Henry left, closing the door to Jesse’s room quietly. Jesse remained where he was for hours, letting the images of his father replay in his head, until a shallow, unconscious sleep stole over him…