Where lights don't belong...

Or You Shouldn't Belong

I did understand.

This was for me. For my own good.

Mom needed to focus. I needed to be safe.

And there would be kids like me there. That's more than I could hope for... I sigh.

I still remember the moment mom told me.

We were sitting across the round table and two cups of dark liquid steamed in front of us.
Coffee. It was never a good sign for us.

The last time it appeared in my life was when mom decided we needed to move into this dark place anyway.

Always smelly, small and none of the kids knew what a lighted yoyo was. Like woah.

What were these, underground folk?

Mom had spun her cup around before looking me in the eye. Another bad sign. This lead to me being grounded for shooting an electrician right of a streetlight.

She leaned forward. Now, what had that been? Yeah, no playing with light. Feel pity for the poor, bored kid, mom!

Okay, this was baaad.

"I think you need safety." She looked down, tired. Looking week

Oh no. "Okay, Mom! We came here for safety, remember? I'm safe enough. You are too! What place could be safer, and less lighter, then this! Right?" I tried to reflect her thoughts back to her in an upbeat voice. Usually works!

I saw her face tilt. Yes! Then her eyes crinkled. Oh, this was bad.

"Mom?" I asked, a bit worried now. Her lack of enthusiasm was getting to me.

"There's this camp." She finally said, looking up.

Ugh, what kinda' camp makes a grown up make that expression? A concentration camp? I know that it doesn't sound bad but you try having ADHD and Dyslexia with a bouncy and cheery personality in a sporty body. Then try the word concentration out. Doesn't matter if you are only a bit over 11.

I pretend to contemplate. Well, it's still a camp.

"Cool! So I go to camp and come ba-" I trailed off at my mother's face, my hyperness cooling down a bit as the concern set in.

"Mom?" I said. Asked.

"William?" Five bad signs, Yay.

I breathed.

"Are we parting?"

She looked startled. She obviously didn't think I would frame it that way. Well, I had thought it out a bit. She pulled herself together, eyes still scrunched in memories of throbbing pain. She had had a headache. And cried. Great son, I am, really.

"Yes" She said. She leaned back as if saying those words to me at last had relieved her of something bottling up within. Her eyes met mine. Worse was to come.

I knew the answer, but my heart felt like it was being hollowed out by an invisible forced. I forced it to a stop and asked the question that would put the cork on this.

"For how long?" My voice didn't shake. It was as if I was a speaker through which my recorded voice played. Hollow. Like my heart.

Her voice echoed in my amplified ears. The words ricocheting around like as if in a cave.

Something in her eyes trembled for a millisecond before her eyes returned to their stern expression.

"Forever"