A Friendship's Love (ebook and paperback sample)

A Broken Boy

A Broken Boy      

"Stay still Charlie. If you move around, your cuts will reopen,” I scolded, half-heartedly.  Still in the depths of sleep, I was sure Charlie couldn't hear me, anyway. It wasn't quite the fever that had Charlie moving around all night; it was more like sleep talk or an awful dream. He had been mumbling and tossing his head from side to side on and off until a few hours ago. Nursing Charlie this time was different.  He kept passing out and that worried us all. His Papa took out his anger on him at least twice a year, but this was definitely the worst by far. Besides his head injuries and welts on his arms, he had whip marks behind his legs and on his back.  Luckily those didn't penetrate the skin.  I wasn't exactly sure what was used on him, but it was used a lot. Even so, they all looked angry. The criss-cross patterns glowed bright red against the rest of his skin, and the pain mustn’t have been easy to bear. Charlie never talks of what happens exactly, certainly not to me anyway. The evidence left on his body was enough to tell me his story. I hated his Papa for doing this to him. Charlie would only allow us to help him heal, and then continue on as though it never happened, which I thought was quite sad.

Mama always said when I slept “it was like a log,” I finally came awake completely to the feel of something being rubbed over my mouth. I must have been drooling a little. I knew I sometimes did that, especially when I was tired. I opened my eyes slowly, blinking away the morning light, which broke through the shutters in the single window of my room. I had fallen asleep on a stool next to the bed, and my head had been resting comfortably on the side of the mattress.

"Your Pa put me in your bed. I'm sorry," Charlie whispered while he carefully returned his hand to his side again, releasing the corner of the sheet, which is what I assumed he used to wipe my mouth with. His eyes were fixed on my face.  They were dark right now, and they seemed…distant. Not that I have ever actually noticed Charlie's eyes this close before, but right now, as I looked into their depths, I realized that what I was seeing was more like heartbreak.

"Yes, but that's alright. You know it is. Don't move again,” I said, getting up to go over to the dresser. I set out to pour some water for him. Returning to the side of the bed, I sat back on the stool and helped raise Charlie take a drink. Some of the liquid ran down the sides of his chin, and I wiped it with the edge of my apron. He attempted to smile at me, but winced as his cracked lip pulled with the effort.

"Normally," he paused, realizing that talking was going to hurt a bit. He lightly touched his mouth where a crust of blood was finally forming, and frowned. "Your mama does all this for me,” he finished, resting his head gently back down onto my feather pillow.

"Yes I know, but the baby makes her feel tired a lot,” I said. “I will take care of you."

"She's not due for a while, yet.  Nash told me."

"Yeah," I said.  It felt as if the tone of his voice held a suggestion that he didn’t want my help.

"You don't want me to help you? I know what I'm doing, you know,” I said, a little annoyed at the thought.

"No, I just don't want to be any trouble to you,” he said quickly.