My Dark and Stormy Night

Chapter 5; Meet the Cuties

It would be cool if this was like a zombie apocalypse with the brain-eating living dead. I thought to myself.
  
It would be even cooler if I wasn’t in the position of a zombie. I whined in my mind.
   
A small smile made its way to my face even under my dire circumstances. My face was itchy and my arms and legs stung with an intense burning sensation. The cold metal cuffs were fastened tightly on my ankles, bruising them black and blue. My smile didn’t falter though, I was always good at bringing light to a dark situation and I’m not going to stop now.
   
No matter how much I smile though,  I can't help but wish this little experiment never happened. I also can’t help but hope my friends have it better than me.
   
When the rain started, all of us got split up and I haven’t seen any of them yet. It’s been six months since it started. I have been stuck in a basement for most of those months, but that doesn’t change my concerns for them. I don’t even know this damn family who has me imprisoned.
   
Would it be better to be in the rain? I contemplated.
   
Maybe not.

Creek…
   
I know that sound. It was true that I knew this creaking all too well.
   
My cold eyes darted to the rickety old staircase to watch for the feet of the owner. My body instinctively tensed up, thinking it to be the mother or father of the family. I soon relaxed though.
   
Well, I’ll be… I trailed off in my head because of my shock and surprise, it was the little boy.
   
He looked no older than four, maybe five. I didn’t know him personally but his mom always complained to me about how dependent he was.
   
Well duh, he’s like four! I shouted in my mind.
   
I wish I knew his name, but I didn't bother learning any of their names out of spite. I did my best to look non-threatening and still sported my bright and pained smile.
   
He had a one-piece lime green dinosaur pajamas. I think it’s a triceratops. His small body was almost too short to get down the steps safely. He scooted down each step with a small audible thump. I almost didn’t notice that he had a book in his hands as he made the treacherous journey down the stairs.
   
I saw that once his feet were on the frigid cement floor he was fully aware I was watching him. Every step he took closer to me, was followed by my curious gaze. He plopped down on the ground a few inches outside of my small bubble of reach.
   
I don’t blame him, I mean I’d be scared silent too. I let out a small chuckle and gave the small boy a gentle smile to which he returned.
   
He set the small book on the floor and gently slid it over to me. I picked it up and read the cover, Bixie, and the Flyers. It was my favorite book when I was around his age. I smiled a little wider at the lovely memories I had with this book.
   
That smile immediately faltered at a sorrowful realization.
   
He trusts me to read to him more than his own family.
   
The realization didn’t surprise me, but I still felt incredibly bad for him. His dad is a workaholic who cares more about money than him, his mom is an alcoholic who does nothing but complains and screams, and his older sister is like sixteen and has a boyfriend who she claims is the love of her life.
   
Not the most picture-perfect family, you could say. I reason.
   
“You want me to read to you?” I ask for confirmation, my throat hoarse and dry. I just hope I sound human enough to not scare him.
   
“Yes please, I can’t sleep.” He practically begged me, shaking slightly from either fear of me or his family.
   
I opened the book and began to read it aloud,
   
“Bixie is a small little fairy with bright pink wings…”
   
The book was short and easy to read, but between all of our fun, it was drawn out quite long. We acted out our favorite scenes, like when Bixie had a tickle fight with Noah. We joked about the weird names for objects, like a spoon being called upside-down and wide reflection steel. We also just enjoyed the warmth and company of having another person being there and caring.
   
In the end, a book that should have taken five minutes to read took about thirty minutes. The little boy was now sitting on my lap and looking at the bright and colorful pictures on the last page of the book.
   
Once I finished reading, I looked at the boy, smiled, and gave him a gentle side hug.
   
“My name is Lucas!” He cheerfully whispered.
   
That was sudden.
   
“I’m Nike,” I responded after composing myself from the off-guard information.
   
“I like that name! It’s different.” Lucas giggled, smiling brightly with a small gap in between his two front teeth. He bounced up and down with his words ever so slightly.
   
This kid is so precious! I mentally screamed.
   
“Thank you,” I replied.

CRASH!!

   
The sound of a glass bottle breaking could be heard throughout the whole house. It echoed like a screaming animal. Lucas flinched instinctively at the sound and buried his face deep into my sweatshirt. I tightened my grip on him as he whimpered at the loud noises upstairs.
   
The five minutes it lasted was like a living nightmare. The once smiling and bouncing boy that sat in my lap was now replaced with shaking and scared four years old. I rocked us back and forth to try and soothe his fears.

A small murmur escaped my lips at that moment, “I know what you’re going through.”

It was true. I had an older brother who hated my guts, a mom who always went to the club instead of coming home after work, and an abusive dad who made me do everything around the house. Lucas and I are different sides to the same coin.   

I reluctantly pulled Lucas off of my lap. He squirmed desperately trying to get back onto the safety of my lap. I lied down on my side and allowed Lucas to cuddle close to my chest. He again buried his face into my sweatshirt as I hugged him close to me. A tear ran down my cheek as a wave of sorrow hit me like a brick to the face.

He’s so young and deserves so much better than this. I brood, He deserves to be a happy little ray of sunshine all the time. 

Not even a minute passed before he was fast asleep in my embrace. An apathetic winced smile formed on my face as I felt my eyes grow heavy. 

I just wish someone would have done this for me when I was younger.