A little boy had trouble sleeping, thanks to the passing trains and honking horns in the nightlife surrounding his ran-down home. Sometimes, when the nightlife was too loud, he'd get up and draw the most detailed things but always sped to bed when he heard the old hardwood creek. And he did the same when his mother's footsteps thudded against the wood. His door swung open as jumped on his bed, his mother's eyes casting waterfalls down her cheeks and a suit-case in one hand.
"Honey, I need you to grab your emergency bag." she told him, her voice breaking as she spoke. So the boy did as he was told, he jumped back out of his bed and grabbed his small suitcase under his bed and met his mothers side. She squatted down, wrapped her arms around him and squeezed him tightly, "Those bad people are coming for us, hon. But, I promise I won't let them touch you." she told him.
The boy knew what they were gonna do, hop a box car and get as far away as possible, his mother explained that "far away" was much better than where they were. So, the little family of two rushed out the house, leaving everything they owned behind them and ran to the train that held their future. Cars pulled up to the scene, they honked loudly at the two speeding towards the train. They drove into their yard and in the field that split the home lot and the train tracks, shooting guns towards the two.
The train's end was coming up, and his mother noticed. She lifted up her son, who was tripping to catch up to her, and held him tightly as she ran. "I love you, and promise me you won't forget that." she demanded him. She used all the muscle she had left and threw her kid into the open box car, luckily having him land in it.
The mother dropped to her knees, she couldn't run anymore and she knew well that she was gonna die there. But, she felt better dying knowing that her son was save instead of dying with her son watching her. The two cars stopped urgently, screeching as they did. One tall black man with a scar on his thick eyebrow steps out the car, holding a gun aimed to the weeping woman's back.
"Give me the goddamn kid!" he demanded, every vein popping from his neck.
The woman stood up, her dark hair in her face and a look of hatred in her brown eyes. She held the blade firmly in her sweaty hands and sprinting towards the men in the raincoats, screaming, "You ruined my family!" the look in her eyes made it seem she was crazy. And maybe she was, but the men in raincoats don't "maybe" anything. One shot and she was down.
The kid woke from his unwanted slumber, his head pounded and his body ached. But most importantly, his heart crumbled when he realized his mother wouldn't be coming to the haven she always talked about. He pressed his back against the wall of the box car and sighed heavily as the tears streamed down his cheeks.
That kid, his name is Bailey Bowerr.
