The Boy with Words for Skin

Chapter 13: Another Empty Bed

Voices. Footsteps. Creaking floorboards. The noises floated close and then pulled away. It felt like I was falling and falling. I never wanted it to stop. But then two hands came out of nowhere, grabbed my shoulders, and shook me awake.

Kit stood over me, hands on my shoulders, her hair hanging close to my face.

"Come on, Words," she said. "Get up."

"No," I said. I closed my eyes and tried to turn away, but she held on. I was too weak to give any sort of struggle.

"Come on," she said. Her tone was flat, demanding. "You're getting up and showering and eating and then we're going into town to get groceries and supplies for the you-know-what."

I just laid there, eyes closed. I said nothing. If I did that long enough, maybe she'd leave. She was stubborn, but I could be stubborn, too.

Pain burned across the right side of my face and forced my eyes open.

"Ow!" I said.

She smiled.

"Did you just hit me?" I wanted to rub away the stinging in my cheek, but I refused to. She would've liked that. "Why'd you hit me?"

Her smile faded away. She folded her arms and raised one eyebrow. "Because you're being stupid."

"Stupid? How about you have Legs kill herself and see how you—"

Before I could stop her, she slapped me even harder than the first time.

"Ow!" On reflex, I sat up, clutching my cheek. A dozen different aches dug into my body. My back, my knees, my hips, my stomach, my bladder.

"Why would you say that?" she asked.

I glared at her. "Because you don't understand."

She glared back. "No. You don't understand. What? You think you're the only one who's ever lost someone?"

"No. But—"

She raised her hand to slap me again.

"Stop it!" I held up my hands, more pains bit into me.

She lowered her hand. A smirk appeared on her face. "You better watch out. Slapping you is kind of fun."

"I'm not helping with your party—"

She slapped me again. This time, I fell backwards out of my bed. I landed flat on my back. I groaned in pain and writhed around.

"Get up or it's only going to get worse," Kit said. She scooted across my bed and looked down at me. "The twins have been begging to pee on you to wake you up. I'll let them do it."

She wasn't going to give up. I could tell by the look in her eyes.

"Fine! Okay! Okay!" I tried to sit up, but another jab of pain in my stomach nearly took my breath away. "I just need a minute. I can't move. Something's wrong with my stomach."

"That's what happens when you don't go to the bathroom for almost two days," Kit said. "It's amazing you didn't wet the bed. You're probably about to pop."

"Two days?"

"Just about. Yeah."

Kit helped me up. My eyes went to Boy's bed. I nearly fell over. It was empty. The sheets were gone, just like Face's and Tang's beds.

"Where's Boy?" I asked. I stumbled towards his bed, ignoring the pains that screamed inside of me. "He didn't go down into the basement, did he? He wouldn't!"

Kit rushed over. She slipped one of my arms over her shoulders. I leaned against her because I had to, not because I wanted to.

"He's . . . in the bathtub," she said.