His breathing slows and I know he's fallen asleep. When I first met him, he was kind, cordial, and showed no sadness or tiredness. It made sense to me now why Rea had asked why he was up so angrily. She wanted him to lay down and maybe live longer but telling by his amount of muscle he refused. His words echo in my head, "life is not worth living if one cannot truly live." He looks so tired, so fragile to me now, like if I look away for a second he might blow away with the wind. I look to all the machines he's hooked up to. Now that his arm is exposed from the IV running to it, I can see all the overlapping scars where needles had been placed. Oxygen tubes run to his noes, wires run to pads on his chest, and to many medicine bottles to count placed on the dresser beside him. His wings flutter gently in his sleep but also seem sluggish and tired. He's still so surreally beautiful, like an angel there's a light around him. I almost jump ten feet when I hear Rea's voice "he's always been like that." I look up in confusion and she's standing at the door "none of us know where his angel-like beauty came from but it's always been there." She smiles and lightly giggles "he used to tell us stories and make funny faces" her smile fades "he would make us laugh, even though I could tell he wanted to cry." I look down at his sleeping face again "there was a time that he seemed so genuinely happy to me. I guess back then I didn't know him well enough to see all the pain he tries to hide. He was so kind hearted and loving, it hurt to see him collapse and seize for the first time because I didn't know what to do. Luckily it passed that time and left no damage." She wipes tears from her eyes and takes a breath "we should let him sleep." I agree and leave the room with her. Papa sits by me as soon as I sit down "how is he?" I nod in greeting "he's sleeping. Can I ask you something?" He tilts his head a bit but nods "what was he like before I came here?" He chews on his nail in anxiety "I'm not sure he'd want me ta tell. Ummm, well, he was a good guy but he was really stubborn, he still is. I couldn't keep him in bed for the life of me." I guess my look says it's not enough because he continues "there ain't much else I can tell ya. He was a happy kid. From what he told me, I knew he was strong." I lift my head at that "'from what he told you'?" He raises his hands in defeat "he just told a bit of how his family treated him." I tilt my head but look away and decide not to push any further. He smiles "he likes you a lot." I look at him again "hmm?" He nods "sleeping with ya like that. He never did that with anyone. For a long time he'd sing this lullaby but, accordin ta him, no one sang it right. Seemed to be a big deal ta 'im." My eyes widen and he notices "is 'at why he keeps goin up there in the middle 'a the night? He ask ya ta sing it?" I don't know how to answer but I try "he asked me to sing, just make up words. I guess it ended up being right."
YOU ARE READING
Glass Dragon
Teen FictionA teen is living a normal life as an underdog until a hurricane comes and washes away his home. He develops the ability to heal and fight. Finding a new family, he risks his life to protect to them.
