Chapter Text
David Rossi stared wide eyed at the house in front of him from the car. It was spotted and destroyed by the rain spilling down the dirty car window. He gripped the seatbelt in his injured palm, feeling a sting rise back up.
“Why couldn’t I just stay with my uncle.” It wasn’t a question, David already knew why he couldn’t. The young boy could feel his eyes welling with fresh tears. He’s already been with his uncle for three years, and now he was being shucked off to some stranger?
The social worker, Linda something, sighed from the front seat. He watched her hands tighten on the steering wheel. “We talked about this, David..” She looked at him from the rearview mirror. He wished the car was still moving so she was forced to break eye contact.
“Your uncle is ill, he can’t take care of you anymore. Mr. Dearing is a nice man, David.” Linda pulled an umbrella from her glove box and offered it to the boy in the back.
Out of protest, he crossed his arms and turned up his nose. David opened the car door, throwing his backpack on and picking up the duffle. He stood in the rain, trying to ignore the cold seeping through to him as Linda grabbed his two suitcases before leading the thirteen year old up the short driveway to the looming house.
Linda knocked on the shredded oak door, her now free hand rubbing soothingly on David’s shoulder.
David gulped, staring wide-eyed at the looming grey home with shuttered windows and three stories. He’d heard the horrors of foster care, would he have to sleep in the attic? Would he even be given a bed? Would he be stuck—
The door swung open and David flinched. He squeezed his eyes closed, too scared to see the man taking him in. “Ms. Sommerfield. David. Please! Come in! You must be so cold, let me go grab some towels.”
David blinked his eyes open as Linda Sommerfield, he knew her last name had an s in it, led him in. He gripped his bags looser as he watched the man walk away. David studied his back. Collared shirt, khaki pants, slicked hair, tan.
This seemed like a perfectly normal man. David’s shoulders released some of the tension that had been so tightly wound since he’d gotten into the car.
“See?” Linda nudged him, waiting until the boy looked at her. “I told you he was nice.” David looked away with flustered cheeks as the woman chuckled.
When the man returned, David finally learned his name. “David Rossi? I’m Albert Dearing. You can call me Al, Mr. Dearing, whatever makes you comfortable, okay?” David merely blinked at the man, suddenly feeling shy.
He nodded, chewing his bottom lip. Casting his eyes to the ground, David studied Albert’s shoes. They weren’t as clean as the rest of him, covered in mud. Maybe the man liked to hike. David liked to hike.
Maybe he’d take David hiking.
After an hour or so of paperwork and routine questions, Linda stood to leave. She crouched beside David, shooing Albert out of the room.
“Remember. If you ever feel unsafe, I’m just a call away. I know it can be hard, if he restricts phones, or anything. There’s a payphone at the end of the street, and another at the end of the block. Okay?”
David nodded, he waved her off, however. “I got it, I got it. See you next month, Linda!” David excitedly waved her off. The nerves he’d felt earlier were still there but they were almost smothered by the excitement to explore a new place.
Albert had taken David’s suitcases to his room, it was on the second floor. David marvelled at the open floor living room they’d just been in. From the hallway at the front door it opened up straight into the white, tan, and brown decorated room. David ran a hand along the couch.
“David! Up here, please.” David paused, something about Albert’s voice was different. Coarser.
“He could just be tired from carrying my bags. They weren’t light,” David flew up the stairs, taking them two at a time. He stood confused for a moment at the top of the stairs. He could see at least five closed doors, an open bathroom door, and an open door where he could see Albert’s rm poking out.
David skipped over to Albert and nearly bumped into the man. “Oh, I’m sorry—”
“Watch it, you stupid shit!” Albert raised his arms to stabilise himself. He brushed his perfect hair back again and glared at David. “Listen, Rossi. I don’t give two shits what you do here, but you don’t get in my fucking way, got it?”
David was too stunned to respond. He could only stare at the man in front of him. Mr. Dearing grabbed the top of his shirt hem and yanked. David gasped, his entire body tensing again as Dearing placed their faces inches apart. “Got it, Rossi?”
Breathing in short, scared puffs, David nodded. As soon as he was dropped he scurried into the room that his things had been dumped into. The man in front of him rolled his eyes and slammed the door closed, David flinched again when he heard it lock from the outside.
“I’ll get you for food. Don’t piss yourself.” Footsteps receded from David’s hearing. The boy gasped, grasping at his chest wildly. He dropped his bag quietly– afraid it could bring Albert back up.
David curled up on the not yet made bed. He hugged the coverless pillow close to his chest and buried his face in the scratchy fabric. David tried to hold in his cries, but couldn’t.
In an attempt to distract himself, David slid to the floor and grabbed an old notebook he had and began noting things he thought to be common knowledge in situations like these.
David tapped his pen on the paper and began scribbling.
1. don’t be too loud
2. don’t touch him
3. call him mr.dearing? or sir?
4.
That was all David could think of. Just these three things. He tapped the pen against his head, trying to force the ideas to come to him.
Sadly nothing came.
Sitting on the floor and doing nothing was forcing David to think about things he didn’t want to. So instead, the young boy began making the bed. He was happy his uncle thought it was useful to know these skills for yourself.
David mumbled a quick thank you to the nothingness as he set to work slowly making the bed.
It had been however long it took for the rain to stop when a bang suddenly sounded on David’s door. The boy flinched and turned to it, the door was half way open when it revealed Albert.
He looked bored, nodding outside with his head. “Eat. No fucking talking.” Davi almost replied, but kept his mouth shut instead. It seemed to be the correct move because Albert just started walking down the stairs again.