The Mixer Boy

Chapter One

The sound of ticking filled the room, the clock on the opposite side of where the small twin-sized bed was ticking back and forth with an almost rhythmic pace. 

                                              One, two, one, two, one, two, one, two 

It was almost as if there was a psychic there trying to hypnotize the sickness out of whoever rested on that bed, it was somewhat comforting but more or less scary to think that there was someone there that knew what was wrong with him. A witch doctor who was practicing their evil voodoo on him, he was going to be the first sick boy to become well with nothing more than a bowl of chicken broth and some Vicks VapoRub. 
These were the things that ran through thirteen year old Zander's mind as he laid docile against the bed, his sick hazelnut eyes watching the pendulum move back and forth. Every time it went from two back to one he would flick his fingers up as to reset it. 

The house was dormant, his three siblings (Two brothers and one sister) were out at school and work. His mother was a little busy, she was working on getting money for his medicine. He had a fever of 104.3 but was unable to go to the hospital, they didn't have money for hospital bills and sure as hell couldn't afford insurance. These things are what kept Zander in line, these things are what prompted him to be safe whenever he would go out. He was the youngest of the Mahaffey family, and whenever his brothers and sister left the house he would stay home because his mother was so very afraid of him getting hurt. He tried school, and he loved it quite a bit although the group thing wasn't really his forte. This only drove him farther and farther away from school, he much more enjoyed staying with his mother at home and painting. It wasn't until he was enrolled in the art program that he thought about staying at school, they never told him what to do and always enjoyed watching the way he worked the brushes across the canvas. Every teacher thought he was very young to be painting things so advanced, his favorite piece that he was still working on was one of his mother. It was her full body, only there were sprouts of paint where her privates would have been. He never saw her privates, so he didn't know how he was supposed to see them. He had seen her breasts, but they weren't bad. They were breasts, they feed the child and give them all the life that they need. 
That is what his mother told him, and that is what he believed. So whenever girls changed in front of him he didn't really mind, not that he stared, either. Staring was rude and he knew better, people got very upset when people stared because they were uncomfortable. His mama told him that, too. She was very smart to be so very young, and that was one of the very reasons why he loved her so much. 

Shifting in bed, he gave a whimper as he felt his body screaming in protest to him doing so. His muscles were unbelievably sore, he had never felt this bad. Not even when he had his tantrums, those were very bad. They weren't anything normal, not like a regular child tantrum which was accompanied with screaming and stomping. Oh, no. Zander's tantrums were not really him, there was something inside of him. (His mama said that he was kinda sick, but that's okay.) This thing inside of him was very hateful, and whenever something happened that this thing  didn't like it would throw a giant fit. It would begin with repeating something, over and over until it was resolved. If not resolved he would then progress by pushing things off of wherever he was standing and breaking them, had it not been resolved he would proceed to being thrown into a catastrophic tantrum in which his hands would grow -from the fingertips- black paint that didn't stop until it reached his elbows. This same paint was on his neck as well, thick tar-like black paint that inched past his jawline. 

These fits were usually accompanied by screaming, hitting, and most popular recently- cutting. This thing had the power to cut through Zander's flesh without there being anything there, no knife or anything. Inside his mind he would see the cuts, the way the blood dripped down his arm in thick scarlet beads and off his elbow onto the floor. It was enough to make him shriek, which is exactly what this "Entity" wanted from him. 

There were many threats by this thing that he would surely ruin Zander, it wasn't fame or money that he wanted. He wanted his mother, he wanted to inhabit him for the strict purpose of being closer to Mother Mahaffey. 
This was all so much, and at first Zander was afraid- that was until his mother was happy to take him in and took very good care of the little red eyed demon inside of his head. 
His name was Myles, he was what he described as a panic demon which he wouldn't go into more detail on. What he wanted was to be human, he craved human touch and was most certainly not afraid to hurt someone else to get it. 

Finally his body allowed him to sit up just enough to get a drink of water, his hands were trembling and he could feel the cool water running down his hot throat. It felt almost painful, yet extremely relieving on his parched interior. A frown appeared when he noticed there was a lack of water in the glass, and decided that he should get more before he passed out again. With this he pushed his body out of bed, gasping and whining as he felt his body holler in protest to this action. Finally getting up completely, his vision was blurry and unbelievably out of balance. The room was spinning and tilting, it made him nauseous in the quickest fashion and he hated it, it made him feel so very hopeless. 

Zander made his way to the kitchen, his feet dragging along the hardwood floors all the way there. The coolness of them felt somewhat comforting, he knew that there had been no feet on these floor for several hours and now it was just him. He owned these floors for the time being, and it made him feel a little more fantastic despite the want to completely die. Finally entering the kitchen, he drug his hand along the table as he passed it. Making his way to the sink, he stared down at the tap for a moment as if he had completely forgotten what it was he had come in here for. Then it hit him, and he was back on the beat as he set his cup carefully under the faucet and turned it on. There was tapping against the kitchen window which prompted Zander to look up, he saw nothing but branches at first. But then he saw it, its plumage was a brilliant red hue and it's crest was very noticeable. It was a cardinal, a very beautiful mother bird who was collecting food to feed her babies. She must have landed on the branch for a rest, it was no doubt something tiring, flying around all day and sometimes coming back with nothing. He felt sorry for the bird, unsure why however as he had -just for a moment- lost track of everything. The colors around the bird shimmered beautifully, golds and pinks, oranges and yellows. He made a note to paint this bird later, when he felt more aware and less sick. He opened the window, placing a few crumbles of dried bread that were left on a plate beside the sink on the flowerbed that was hanging on the window. The young boy gave a smile, and with this he gently shut the window. 

Looking back down, he gasped as he noticed the water had over filled in the cup. He sighed as he turned off the tap and poured out a little of the water, leveling it just about half an inch from the rim. Drying the bottom of the cup on his shirt, he set it down on the counter before moving to the refrigerator, he was hopeful as he opened it. To his surprise he found a half loaf of bread, he also found the remnants of a jar of jam and just enough butter for maybe one piece of toast. There were some month old stale cheerios in the back, and some slices of ham. 
He decided on making a ham sandwich, it would be something in his stomach that wasn't water so he pulled out the loaf and the rest of the ham. He pulled out two pieces of bread, inspecting them for mold. The crust was a little white looking so he decided to cut the crust off, he didn't like crust anyways so it wasn't much of a loss.  
Pulling out the ham, he inspected them and frowned as he spotted mold. It wasn't spoiled, they got it from the dumpster two nights ago. It just needed a good washing, was all. So with this Zander turned on the hot water and carefully rubbed the pieces between his small hands. He made sure to get it all off thoroughly, he knew just how to do it because he had done it millions of times and his mother and brother showed him to do it when he was seven. 

Finally finishing, he dabbed it dry carefully before placing it on the crustless piece of bread. Enclosing it with another one, he took a bite and was unable to make a pleased sound. He was starving and it showed as he carefully devoured every single morsel of the sandwich, once finish he was quite full with a drink or two of water which means it was time to go back to bed.

He placed the crusts on the flowerbed outside the window for the mother bird before grabbing his glass, he made his way back to the bedroom. Setting the cup down on the nightstand, he slid his body back into bed and pulled the blankets up over his body with ease. His eyes were heavy again, he didn't fight it however. He allowed the blackness to take over, and within mere minutes he was fast asleep.