Extremity

24 | Rylie

You know how they say things about your life flashing before your eyes? Well, that's exactly what happened to me. And do you want to know what I saw?

I saw an old man.

An old man in a park. He was wearing a brown hat and khakis and had a leather handle on his cane. He was walking up a grassy hill, nodding politely at younger couples and energetic kids. He finally reached a table that had a chess board on it, its pieces already set up. He sat down, placed his hat on the table, then waited. He waited and waited and waited for someone to come and play with him. He waited for God knows how long, since this was a flashback I'm guessing time sped up so I'd be able to see everything. But then, finally, a young girl approached him. She had short blonde hair and was holding a red balloon. She walked up to the old man and said:

"Sorry I'm late, Grandpa. But I'm here now."

The old man looked at her, his face weary and tired from waiting. And he just shook his head. Then everything began to get fuzzy and I tried my best to concentrate on what I was seeing but all I saw was the red balloon floating into the sky and then I woke up.

Yes, that little girl was me. No, that old man was not my grandpa.

I was still lying down on the ground, my entire body writhing in pain from the small but brutal beating Kurt Larson gave to me. Instantly I felt humiliated and pathetic. I was trying to help Thomas but instead I ended up failing and got myself hurt. And now Kurt was gone and he took my gun and-

Shit. I hear it in the distance. Police sirens. Not good. I had to get out of here.

"Are you okay?"

Still slightly dazed, I look up to see a little white boy looking down at me. He's wearing a colorful hat, holding a lollipop in one arm and, you guessed it, a red balloon in his other hand.

"I..." is all I can say. Am I okay? What even is okay? And who the hell was this kid?

"I saw that guy kick you. That's not very nice." he slurps his lollipop and continues to stare down at me, blinking rapidly.

"I know, right?" I sit up, wincing in pain. I need to get out of here, pronto. But where can I go? I can't go back to my apartment.

"Is he your boyfriend?"

I scoff loudly as I stand up. "Um, no."

"My mommy's boyfriend hits my mommy like that sometimes. But she's not like you. She always stays down."

"Oh," I say, feeling a twinge of sadness. "Well, that's not very good."

The boy stares up at me. "I know. I want to tell her that but I'm scared he will hit me like he hits her."

I sigh. "Do you have somewhere to be?"

He shrugs. "My mommy's boyfriend was supposed to pick me up but he went somewhere with his friends."

I look around. The police sirens are growing louder but they don't appear to be coming closer. Could they just be going somewhere else? But still, where should I go?

"I'm cold."

I look down at the boy, who's shivering slightly. "Do you have a jacket?" he shakes his head.

I sigh. "Where do you live?"

He wordlessly points in a random direction, the balloon still clutched in his hand.

"Do you want me to take you home?"

He nods.

"Fine." I pause and think. "In return do you think you could let me stay at your house for a bit?" If his mother's deranged boyfriend wasn't home, maybe I could pull myself together and figure out what my next move would be.

He nods.

"Is your mom home?"

He shakes his head. "Mommy's boyfriend took her to work."

"Where does she work?"

I expect him to say a strip club or something but he replies with, "The hospital. She's a doctor."

Well then.

"Don't you have school?" I ask him as we begin to walk.

He shrugs. "My mommy's boyfriend says I don't have to go if I don't want to."

What a life.

We walk in silence, cross a street, then eventually head into a neighborhood filled with rich looking houses. We approach a big white house on the corner and enter through the backyard, pass a swimming pool, and enter through the backdoor. A bit white dog comes running up to me and the boy quickly ushers it away. I eye the house for a moment - it's really nice - then look around for a phone I can use.

"Do you have a phone?" I ask the boy, who's busy tying his balloon to a chair.

"No," comes his reply.

"A home phone? A cell phone?" I ask, looking around, but there's none in sight.

"No."

"Well, why not?"

"Mommy's boyfriend took them away after she tried to call the police."

What kind of sick home was this?

"What's your name?" I ask him.

"Trevor," he replies.

"Well, Trevor, my name is Rylie," I say. "What do you say we -"

I'm cut off by the doorbell. The white dog begins to bark and Trevor sprints to the couch and dives in, covering his head with a pillow. "What are you doing?" I ask him.

"I'm hiding, like mommy's boyfriend told me to do when someone rings the doorbell," comes his reply. I roll my eyes and tug the pillow off of him. Then I walk over to the door and peek through the window to see who it is.

Holy shit. It's Thomas.

[author's note :D]

WHAT A SMALL WORLD, RIGHT?

That's all I have to say.

- DC