The Boy I Met On the Roof

The Downstairs

Trembling hands clutch the silver pendant hanging just below his collarbone; it was the only necklace he had left, even if he had liked them before he had gotten here. When he arrived, they went through his suitcase, taking everything out and dumping it on the floor; his rings, his necklaces, his earrings, his clothes, his shampoo, body wash and conditioner, it was all taken from him, because "they will provide for him". Well, they do give him a bar of soap once in a while, for everything, including dishes and hair, but he had gotten used to it by now since there isn't anything he can do about it now. Upon his arrival, a woman, around her late forties with blonde and white hair, had told him to strip in no uncertain terms: "Either you do it, or I will."
However, she took pity on him, letting him keep his favourite necklace, since "it looked expensive".
It was, kind of, or it would have been if he hadn't stolen it; at eleven, his mother and Edar went to a local jewellery shop to pick out a gift for Edgar's mother, and when the cashier, who surely got no more than minimum wage, looked away, he had snatched the next best thing he saw, putting it in the hidden pocket of his oversized and thrice passed down coat.
It's a silver necklace, with a beady chain and a pendant around the size of a two-euro coin, displaying a moth surrounded by the phases of the moon, bearing a light blue gem on its back; he had loved rubbing the clip of the pendant against the chain, adored the noise it made and the sensation of the friction against his fingers. Of course, his other hated it, telling him that the noise bothered her and to "just keep quiet". That was easier said than done; he could never sit still, whipping his foot up and down, swinging his legs, chewing his nails and the inside of his cheek, mindlessly taking the end of his pencils in his mouth, and popping his lips. The silence of the classroom made his thoughts too loud, and at night, he could only sleep soundly if cars were passing by.
Everyone had a problem with how he functioned; the teachers deducted points if he doodled on his tests, and yelled at him if he did it in class, to the point where he started flinching if his name was called because they mostly said it before lecturing him, and his other would take away his dinner if he kicked his feet under the table or chewed on something that wasn't food, because "he must not be wanting the food, then". He could never sit still or not make noise; movement was his second nature, and silence was his enemy. Of course, he eventually managed, because, at this school, teachers don't just yell, so he replaced it all by silently tapping his fingers on his thigh, differing the patterns just enough so that he wouldn't get bored, or wiggling his toes in a certain sequence.
It took time to get used to, but again, he managed

Today was no different than yesterday, or any day before; he had gotten up, hid under his bed during breakfast, and sat in Miss Duffy's class for three hours, listening to her yell and scream about the bible verses and rant about how wearing glasses is a sin because if god wants you to see, he wouldn't have given you bad eyesight. Lunch was the same, the oatmeal tasted bitter and the texture made him gag. Looking around, he still couldn't find Noah; he hadn't been able to for weeks, like he just disappeared after their talk. The little mean voice in the back of his head tells him that he disappeared because that one interaction made him so so sick that he never wanted to see Dustin again; that he had fucked up the only chance of a healthy relationship he had, all while being too stupid to notice what exactly he did wrong. Standing up, the old wooden chair squeaked in protest at the sudden movement; unlike in his old school, it was quiet during lunch, the students whispering under their breath, eyes darting back and forth in search of a guard or teacher that might catch them.
For once, one of the girls looks up at him; Rebecca, or Becky, if you're close to her, fifteen years old, in her third year, with tight, black curls that every teacher complains about no matter how she styles it because it always looks "unclean and messy".
She is a red-collar, and as a result, she's the silent and submissive type, always responding with "yes, sir" and "no, miss"; protective of those she holds close, though the friend group she originally had fallen apart after two people died and the rest couldn't handle it, so now, she sits alone during mealtime and cries herself to sleep every night. Tearing her head to the side, she mentions for him to follow her; usually, he would have just ignored her, but the look of desperation in her eyes, paired with an unfiltered passion, made him do as she told him.
Keeping close to her, they leave the mess hall, walk to the yard and take a turn, going behind the school and stopping right in front of the fence, one of the only places where no one besides the students goes to look.

"I heard of what's going on with you and Noah," she says absentmindedly, raising her eyebrows: "and I know that you know that he's somehow managed to disappear."
"Yeah, but what is it to you?" Dustin asks crossing his arms over his chest; no one besides him seems to care, and he has never seen Rebecca interact with him.
"Well, I know that you didn't care about losing Alex, but he was the first person to care about me, and without him, I would be literally dead, so..."
"For someone you care so much about, you talk very little with him?" Dustin snaps, snarling.
"I didn't need him anymore; I knew everything there is to know about surviving here. Also, I can't have anyone seeing me talk to him, the people here are real snitches."
Taking a step toward the fence, she points to the jewellery: "You see anything that belonged to him?"
Dustin shakes his head, shrugging his shoulders: "Well, maybe he just forgot about that? I mean, I was pretty close to leaving once, and I didn't leave anything behind."
"No, he isn't like that. He would have at least told me beforehand, plus, none of the corpses I've seen recently match him, so he isn't dead." She glares at him like he has any clue about his whereabouts and just refuses to tell her.
"So? I know nothing, he could have just run away. What do you want me to do?"
"I want you to goddam help me find him; are you retarded? I know very well that he is the only person who likes you, and I get why the rest don't."
"I ain't gonna do shit if you keep talking to me like that." Turning around, he attempts to stomp away, but a rough hand on his biceps stops him, sharp nails digging into the little muscle he has.
"Look, I'm sorry, I'm just stressed! For the last three years, I've been gathering evidence, and now that he's gone, I have a reason to look downstairs, and I can't do it alone!"
Tearing his arm away, leaving five shallow cuts bleeding all over his once-white shirt, he pants; grabbing her by the shoulder, he screams into her face: "What the fuck are you talking about?"
"I sneaked a camera in back when I arrived, you know, in a ziplock bag hidden in a half-empty bottle of contact lens solution, taped to the bottom so it wouldn't make noise if shaken. I knew that I wasn't going to be treated great, to say the least, here, so I wanted to take video evidence of what was going on; under the floorboards in my room, there are hundreds of memory cards full of pictures and videos, ranging from videos of the teachers "punishments" to photos of-"
"I get it! What the fuck is "the downstairs"? Do you mean the basement? Cus I can tell you, the only thing going on there is that one of the guards has a meth lab."
He cuts her off, giving her shoulders a shake, hoping she would come to her senses.
"I know that," she yells, grabbing his wrists and pulling them off of her: "but the basement has two stories, you know? I've been down there plenty of times, and at the end of the hallway, there's a door I've only ever seen Mister Sterling open, and sometimes, I can hear his footsteps coming up or down."
"And? What makes you think that Noah is down there? He could be anywhere else!"
She swallows, bottom lip trembling; her dark brown, nearly black eyes filled with tears, as she grips the front of his shirt.
"I just...have a stomach feeling, okay? And you don't care much about if you die or not, so you don't have a lot to lose, anyways!"
"I'm not afraid of dying, but I sure as hell am afraid of what Mister Sterling is gonna do to me!"
"Oh please, he can't do anything that hasn't happened to you before."
She rolls her eyes, unbuttoning the top of her shirt, raising an eyebrow when he flinches.
"What? I am just gonna leave my necklace here, so no one will wonder what happened. By the way, you should too."
With the first two buttons undone, she reaches behind her neck, pulling out a golden necklace, with a thin chain and a pendant in the shape of a snake, decorated with white gemstones, and clipping it onto the fence, beside the pair of embroidered dog tags.
He sighs, unclasping his own and following her steps: "You know them?"

"Yeah, I did. I hope they are happier wherever they are."