Lights Will Guide You Home

Claire

I was next to the little boy when he woke up. He had regained consciousness while I had been at the police station and on being questioned he told the nurse his name was Michael. Then he fell into deep sleep from which he awoke a while after I returned to the hospital.

“Michael?” I asked softly, as he opened his eyes.

He squinted in the bright light, looking kind of dazed. “Am I in a hospital?” He asked in a small confused voice.

“Mhmm,” I nodded. “How’re you feeling now?” I asked him.

“it doesn’t hurt anymore,” he mumbled. He looked up at me, his eyes bright green – confused, scared. His head was clustered with little brown curls and his small pale face was marred by a dark red bruise on his left cheek. He was so adorable, I couldn’t help but smile at him as he tried to study my face without making it too obvious. I wanted to talk to him, help him. But I didn’t know how to begin.

After a couple of minutes of silence, he whispered, “Am I in trouble?”

I shook my head. “But…you have a lot to explain,” I said softly.

“Explain to…to…cops?” The fear shadowing his green eyes bothered me. He was terrified, tears filling up fast in his eyes. My mind went back to the articles I’d picked up in the alley, and I could only hope fervently they didn’t belong to him.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” I said soothingly, taking the small trembling hand in my own. “They just want to know who hurt you and why.”

Michael didn’t respond. He turned his face away and stared out the window. The night was lit up with city lights, the moon nowhere to be seen in the sky. I wondered what was going through his mind. I was afraid to ask, worried the recollection would be too painful for him. Besides, I was pretty sure he didn’t trust me enough to tell me anything.

He turned to me suddenly and asked, “Who are you?”

“Oh.” I hadn’t bothered to introduce myself. “My name’s Claire. Some boys found you in an alley. They called me. I’m from Braveheart Foundation. We…” I groped for the right words to explain what we did. “…we work to try and make all kids happy.”

“Oh…” he said slowly, processing it.

He turned to look out the window again. I sat there, racking my brain as to how I’d broach the topic that was on my mind. The nurse told me that when they had enquired about his parents, he said he didn’t have anybody. He had remained stubbornly mute about who he had lived with, or where he had lived. They had given up on him after a while, letting him go back to sleep. It was this reluctance to discuss his family that led me to be pretty convinced that they were probably responsible for his current state. I needed to confirm this.

“Michael?” My voice broke through the silence.

He turned to face me, his face blank. I didn’t know how to make him open up to me. It felt like he was out of reach, locked in a world of his own. Maybe I couldn’t get the whole story out of him, but I needed to know if it was safe to send him back home.