Save Me - h.s.

Prologue

I remember the sweet smell of maple and cinnamon, and the tune she used to hum as she cooked. I remember how she would always come to my rescue and defend me from my dad, earning her a slap across the face or her hair getting pulled. Sometimes both. I would then get slapped or hit. His hands were rough an he always smelled of alcohol mixed with cigarettes and cheap sex.

My new dad doesn't smell like that. He smells like pine trees and various spices. His hands are soft and gentle. He doesn't hit my new mom. He loves my new mom. And he loves me. I don't know why though. I've been a bad boy. I don't deserve love. My old dad said that bad boys deserve to be punished. Why do I not get punished?

"Harry," my new mom says with a sweet smile. Her voice is soft and warm. "Would you like to come decorate the Christmas tree?"

I nodded and held my blanket close to me. I didn't say anything. I never say anything. I'm not allowed. If I talk I will be bad and I will get punished.

"This is called an ornament," she said handing me a shiny ball.

Or-na-ment. Or-na-ment. I said it over and over in my head, but not out loud. Never out loud. I took the, or-na-ment from her hand and looked at it for a moment. I could see myself in it. I've never really seen myself before. I gently placed it on the tree and my new mom smiles. I looked up at the tree for a moment. I had only seen them in stores, but never in houses. My old dad said that bad boys don't get trees in their houses and they don't get presents. He said Christmas is only for good boys and I am not a good boy.

I could hear my brother running down the stairs. He is very loud and he talks a lot. Not me.

"Mommy, mommy, look what I drew." He hands my new mom a picture. It was our family. Mom and dad had a smile on their face. So did Taylor. Not me. Harry has a sad face.

***

I wake up the next morning with Taylor yelling about Santa. I don't think I should bother because I know Santa didn't bring me anything. He only brings presents to good boys and I am not a good boy.

I slump out of bed anyways, clutching my blanket as I do and walk downstairs to see what Santa brought Taylor. He got a train and a boat and some other things too.

"These are for you, Harry," my new mom says as she shows me present under the tree.

Slowly, I make my way toward them, curious as to why Santa brought me present. I am bad boy. Maybe Santa doesn't know I'm a bad boy. Maybe he thinks I'm a good boy.

I take one of the presents and start to tear off the shiny paper. A helicopter. It has a remote control so I can fly it. I hand it to my new dad and he opens it, handing me the controller and the small aircraft. The helicopter flies. It flies over the tree and the couch and the piano and then back to me. I set my remote back down and open another present. It's a book. Green eggs and ham... I've never seen green eggs before... I open another and it's a new shirt. It's clean and soft and looks much nicer than the one I usually wear.

I finish opening the rest of my presents. I get another book, and a train like Taylor's. Fascinated by green eggs, I take my book and walk over to the couch to read it. I like this couch. It's soft and red unlike the sticky green one my old mom used to have. I miss my old mom. She was pretty and she was very nice. She liked it when I played with he hair. It made her smile. My old dad never smiled. His mouth was always pressed into a thin, hard line. I didn't like him, and neither did my old mom.

My new mom smiles all of the time, and so does my new dad. They are very nice to me. I don't know why. People are only nice to good boys. I am not a good boy. I am a bad boy. Harry is a bad boy.