Nobody's Boy [Book One]

Chapter Five - Nobody's Pandora Box

I stood under the cold shower in a daze.
I used to cry for a family, and I fantasised about it.

And now...
What a joke.

Maybe I should just sabotage it all and stick under my mother...

[Hours earlier]

Boy listened bored as his father introduced his new family to Boy, the same ol' speech.

"Little sister" this.
"Protect" nonsense.
And "Big brother" that.

They spoke of his mother, how she abandoned him, how they are fighting to have custody of him.
Fighting? Hearing them go on and on made Boy shake with such anger that he felt his veins pulse against the skin of his forehead. Is this what having a "cute" daughter does to people? Boy promised himself that he'll never have children.

Franco and Lora struggled to speak with him. He did not respond, nor did she look at them. Franco felt the child only needed time to adjust. Kids are like that.

As Loralie smiled with pity and hugged the boy, whispering things like, "It's ok, you're here now. "The little boy felt a brand new urge, homicide.

With the little girl staring at him like a psychiatric patient, he was also disturbed and creeped out. Why do they do that? It's not cute.

The family left him alone eventually in his new room that was cream and empty, with only a bed and blue teddy bear sheets and felt like sandpaper. Boy couldn't understand what they were thinking, even though he knew, he could not understand.

Nothing was making sense, nothing felt right. He felt like something was wrong. It can't be right.
In his frustration, he tore apart the cheap sheets.
Boy stood by the high window and tiptoed, looking out at the estate. From his window, you can see any car coming and going. The drop-down is high, but there is a bush right below. That might come in handy later.

Boy huffed and slumped down, holding his knees to his chest. His face scrunched, and his eyes cried, his hands gripping his arms and his nails drawing blood through his fairly thin sweater, his coat thrown aside somewhere.

"Euh..." That's his crying noise.

[I wish I ran away that day. Why..? Why me? I wish I could just be ok with it all... but I keep crying. I don't want to feel this was... I don't want to know anything.]

The boy cried painfully. He didn't know what hurt and... what didn't.

[Present]

He stepped out of the shower and walked his naked body to the bed, he looked around.

[There's no heat coming into this room... Why aren't I cold?] The boy realised something while in the shower.
From the moment he ran into the night and ignored the snow around him, he felt no cold. He only felt it... when he acknowledged it... as a feeling.

[I'm short and skinny, I was wearing a decent winter coat but that's it. My fingers aren't frozen off, nor the tip of my nose. Why is that? Wasn't it cold? I thought it was...] The boy sat on the bed in a state of confusion. As he looked around the room, he noticed things he didn't see before.

[A walk in the closet.... this was here?] As he looked around, it was like someone painted a new clear picture of what the room should look like.

The unsettling feeling continued. Now, not just around those people, but in this room alone. The boy looked down at the torn sheets and picked up a piece.

[It's soft and like silk... and... I didn't tear it into shreds like this.] Like a poorly written scene, it was ...

[Inconsistent...]

He dropped the cloth and began looking for signs someone had been in the room, he sniffed the door handle for the smell of a different hand, he sniffed the cloth for the whiff of someone's perfume and he looked under the black bed.

.
.
.
.

[Black?]
[Was it not cream? The room was a depressing cream and beige... with only a bed and a door leading to the-]

Where's the door....

The boy trembled violently and his eyes wore a look of dredd as he touched the wall where the door was.
His small hand patted the spot, his boney wet figure disturbingly staggering around. He slowly walked into the closet and peaked inside...

It was full of empty hangers and draws, all lining the two walls.

And straight ahead... a small bathroom.
With a tub parallel to the door.

Boy ran away and stumbled against the bed, his chest heaving and terror making his legs useless.

[W-Why....]

The boy turned his head slowly as he felt a disturbance behind him.

.

.

.

.

.

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[It's pitch dark out... but it's not even evening yet.]