The Boy Next Door

Chapter Two

The next morning I awoke to a bang on the stairs. I jumped up from my hay bed and hid behind a pile of firewood. I carefully looked through the holes in the wood and saw my sister laying on the floor at the bottom of the stairs. My sister always brought food down for me, she never wants to though. She brings me food and sometimes yells and slaps me. This time she has no food with her. If she doesn't have food, why did she come down here? Maybe to hurt me or to yell about how worthless I am. If I'm worthless, why am I here? I don't understand.

I walk to her body and cautiously nudge her shoulder. Nothing. No response. I walk around her and look at her face. Her brown hair is in tangles around her square face, her eyes closed, and her forehead is bleeding. She looks so hurt, like I am. I jump back as she suddenly jumps up and grabs for me. She is breathing heavily and coming my way. As fast as my semi-useful legs can carry me, I scurry on top of the wood pile and hide behind it. My screaming sister tries to follow me, luckily she is too big.

"MOTHER," she screams. "Mother! Come quick, the little RUNT is out of place again! He tripped me on the stairs! My head is bleeding and my arm is bruised! Come and beat the living shit out of him! MOTHER!"

I cringe at the thought of Mother coming down the stairs and beating me. Unfortunately for me the woman came stomping down the stairs so hard I thought they would break.

"Where is the brat?! Where are you? If I have to come and look for you God so help me I will break your neck! Come out NOW!" Mother made her way to the used tires and waited. If we're being honest, I'd rather her break my neck. She was across the room from me and was looking in my direction. On second thought, it'd be like her to draw out the process, so; I slowly stand and look down, knowing what was going to happen.

Ma came at me like a train. She grabbed my arm and threw me on the ground. I curled into a ball and shut my eyes tight. My sister was sitting on the stairs crying and holding her head, I could still feel her smile of accomplishment as she is watching the scene unfold. Mother kicks me hard in the ribs and I heard one crack. Pain seared through me like a hot metal. I writhe on the ground until she picks me up and slams me down again. My arm broke. I look towards the bike tires and crawl. Mother punches my stomach. I lose my breath I was having trouble holding anyways. She lifts me up again. I cringe, waiting to be dropped. Instead I am carried to the top of the stairs. I hope to be taken into the house, but quickly dismiss the thought as Ma held me over the railing. I squirm in her grip. There are exactly fifteen stairs leading to the house. The top step is about eight feet off of the ground. I'm not exactly wanting to be dropped eight feet with a broken arm, cracked rib, and no breath.

Mother decided to drop me despite my squirms and grunts of protest. Time slowed as I descended the eight feet to the hard cement floor. I saw every stair as I went down, every brick in the wall. I saw my sister smiling triumphantly. My mother laughing. I saw them both turning to go into the house and leave me to drop. Finally I hit the ground with a series of bones breaking and thuds as I bounced on the floor. My chest is on fire, my head hurts, my arms are broken, most of my ribs are as well, my back is killing me, I can't see. I can't see! I can't see! I lay there waiting to see if my vision will come back. Finally I realise that my eyes were shut tight in pain. I open them and look at my body. My rotting cloth pants were torn even more, my legs were at odd angles, my arms were twisted, my chest sagged in, and I still can't feel any pain. I guess this is how you feel when your dying. I've read books about how people feel when they die. They feel everything, their lives flash before their eyes, they regret any bad things they've done.

I don't feel anything, I can't see my life flashing before my eyes, and I don't regret anything. I have nothing to regret. I've given my mother a son to let her anger out on, I've made my sister smile while I was hurt, I've let my brother hurt me for him to feel some power in the house. I've done all I could in this life. I just hope and hope that there is a god to help me in the supposed afterlife. I still doubt that there is any god, but of course in this moment I have a right to believe. I hope that Mother doesn't come back down and take the numbness from me, it's the only thing that is keeping me sane.

No. No! The little light I have is fading. I can't see again. Darkness overtakes me...