The Boy Who Brought Me Back (Scömìche)(Completed)

Chapter 5

"I'll tell you the story of me and Mrs. Thomson if, and only if, you eat a bowl of cereal." Scott says with a smirk.

"Scott..." I groan.

"Do you want to hear the story or not?"

"Yes, but I don't want to eat. I'm not even hungry." I say. He crosses his arms stubbornly. In response, I roll my eyes and push past him to leave the room. He follows me to the kitchen where I get out a bowl and pour a very small amount of cereal into it.

"More." I keep adding to it until he tells me to stop. He pours milk into it for me and then I put the first spoonful into my mouth, shuddering as I swallow it.

"So, she raised me, since I was seven, anyway. She was a very close friend of my parents. Basically, she was the 'if anything happens to us, take care of my kids' friend." I nod as he speaks and eat another bite. "I never expected anything to actually happen, but it did. My parents died in a car crash when I was six and a half. Icy road or something like that. My sister didn't respond well. She, um, she ran away, and left me alone." I notice that he is choking up a little bit as he continues, "I never left my house. I never told anybody that they never came home. My sister didn't tell me why they never came back, but she knew. I just assumed that they abandoned me, the way she did. So after living alone for about six months, give or take a few, Mrs. Thomson came and found me dying on the floor. I don't remember the exact details, I ran out of food or the water went out because no one way paying the bills, something like that. But she found me and took me to her apartment, the one right next door, and basically saved my life. She raised me until I was seventeen, and even when I moved out it was here. I can't bear to leave her after everything she's done for me. I can't abandon her the way my sister did. So, that's my story. You stopped eating. That's not fair." He is chuckling even as tears line his eyes.

"So, basically both of our families were completely screwed up?"

"Basically." I push the bowl away from me, toward him. "Mitch, please."

"I already feel sick and I had two spoonfuls of it. I know you're hungry; I can hear your stomach. Just eat it and save both of us a lot of misery." He takes the spoon from me hesitantly before eating the cereal. He empties the bowl quickly and puts it in the sink.

*****

Scott and I are sitting on the couch, Wyatt between us, watching Spongebob when the first clap of thunder hits, loud enough to make the room shake. I instantly dive into Scott's side to bury my face. He puts a knowing arm around my back as the next bang strikes. My breath is quick and my heart racing, feeling like it is about to burst out of my chest. The power goes out and, even though it is early in the morning, the room is pitch black.

"Scott..." I say nervously, my hands instinctively wrapping themselves in his shirt.

"It's just a little storm, that's all." Thunder shakes the building again.

"This doesn't seem like a little storm, Scott." I say, trying to keep my nerves down but failing. Wyatt's scared meows get louder as he perches himself on my shoulder and rubs against my face. I remove one hand from Scott's shirt to pet the cat. After a few minutes of silence, Scott says, "Maybe it's over now. See that wasn't so bad." I nod and sit back up, Wyatt nearly falling in the process. When am actually starting to believe that the storm has passed, a tornado alert siren goes off.

"Come on. Get Wyatt." Scott grabs my hand to lead me around the coffee table while Wyatt sits in my other hand, squirming. A mass of people are in the main hall and several cats are meowing anxiously, which starts Wyatt up again.

*****

After what feels like forever, we all make our way through the darkness on the stairs to the small basement barely large enough for everyone to fit. I am pushed into a corner with Scott on one side and strangers everywhere else. I have buried my face in Scott's shoulder again by the time everyone got down there. He holds my hand, calming my nerves a little. The landlord is standing at the head of the room on a chair, trying to get our attention. I briefly listen until he starts talking about where to get food from, and then I stop listening altogether. I let my knees bend and slide down to the floor. Scott looks over at me and then back up at the landlord. He seems to be scanning the crowd when he lets out a loud, strangled gasp. I barely see him push through the crowd before he slips out the door. I am on my feet, running after him before I even know what I'm doing.