Playing with Fire

4

The sun's light blinds me as I wake up on my mattress, quilt on the floor. Must have kicked it off in my sleep.

I pinch myself, just to make sure this is not a dream.

I feel pain.

I'm alive for another day. I think.

The bed feels comfortable as I sit up and stretch. I get up and grab my blue jumper and put it on then I walked out of my home and stared around my surroundings.

Cars, pedestrians, trees, cars, people. More people.

I don't like what I'm seeing since when I passed out in London yesterday, no one offered Nat for assistance. She had to do it herself.

I step onto the grassy terrain (probably the only GREEN area in New Elizabeth) and I inhale the air deeply. I straighten my shoulders and I stride into the outside world.

*

The path was crafted out of concrete, trees arching above me like it was sheltering me from the sun's light which trends through my path.

I feel the heat raining onto my neck as I keep my head up, for once, not looking down at my feet.

In the background, I can hear footsteps. I turn around to see where it was coming from but I get knocked back onto the floor by a big amount of weight.

I cannot move.

I look up to see a dark-skinned male, short black hair, blue eyes, grey jacket and trousers and shoes. He has dirt patches all over his face and body, on his clothes. Just everywhere in general.

"Hey! Watch it!" I manage to push him off me.

He rolls off and crawls to a tree trunk then stares at me.

I focus on him even more as he stays put. Still staring at me. His facial expressions look as if someone had been chasing him. He seems so worn out.

I see a crimson patch on his arm.

"You-you're bleeding," I tell him.

No response.

"Do you know how to speak?"

He nods.

"Then why aren't you speaking?" I ask him, starting to get frustrated.

Again. Silence.

Why isn't speaking?! He looks old enough to speak fluent English.

I gaze at his cut.

"Can you... take off your jacket?"

He takes it off to reveal a grey vest and cuts upon his arms. His arms were muscular for a shy guy. So was his body.

Beside him was a dark blue rucksack which had like a dog tag of some kind, acting like a keyring. I lean over to examine it upon both sides.

On one side, I see words engraved onto it:

Daniel Alan Jack Eaton

19.7.97

Male

"You're Daniel?" I ask him.

He opens his mouth to say something but he shuts it again.

"It's okay. I don't bite." I smile at him.

He must have noticed that I smiled gratefully at him, surely!

"Don't send me back..." he says silently.

I raise an eyebrow.

What did he say?

"Sorry, please can you speak up a bit?" I request.

He pressed himself against the tree as I come closer to him.

"Please. Don't send me back," he repeats.

"Sorry, but where don't you want me to send you?"

His breathing was fast and he was sweating. I rummage through her bag to see whether he has anything and I find a roll of bandages. I pull it out and face the man.

"Hold still," I tell him and I gently grab his wrist and I wrap the bandage around his arm. I rip the end off and tuck it underneath all layers of wrapping. "I don't know how to do this but I think that'll stop the bleeding."

"Thanks..." he laughs quietly under his breath.

"Now, is your name Daniel Eaton?" I ask him again.

"Yeah. What's yours?" he says.

I look down, embarrassed (SHUT UP!). I breathe in and out than face him again.

"I'm Lawrence Holloway."