Burning Skies » larry

Chapter 24

When Harry woke up, he was in a soft bed. It wasn't the hard pavement he'd gotten used to. The old tarp he used as a blanket was also replaced by a real fluffy blanket—soft, clean, and warm.

Harry sat up, realizing he was in an unfamiliar room. There was a single window at his side, a closet by the door and a wooden desk at the opposite side of the room. The bed was large and soft, and while Harry couldn't remember the last time he'd slept in a proper bed, he didn't exactly like the idea of waking up in an unfamiliar one.

It seemed to be early morning, judging by the weak sunlight filtering through the glass window. It was also awfully quiet.

Harry shoved the soft blanket off his body. His tattered clothes were gone, replaced by a soft cotton shirt and some joggers. He groaned at the pain in his stomach and gingerly lifted the hem of his t-shirt. A bandage was wrapped around his waist.

There was a glass of water on the bedside table. He chugged it down quickly before swinging his legs off the bed and trying to stand. He yelped when his legs gave out beneath him, causing him to collapse to the ground.

He didn't even realize someone had entered the room until he saw a pair of shoes in front of him. Harry startled, eyes wide as he looked up at the intruder.

"Are you okay?" 

Harry gulped. This was the man who'd been giving him cash whenever he passed by Harry's spot. He'd been doing it for days, and every time he saw him, he was wearing an immaculate suit, his hair brushed back. The man looked like he was in his early thirties and probably owned a huge company or something of sorts.

"Who are you?" Harry croaked out, his throat feeling unbelievably dry. His eyes darted around the room, staring at the open door. He could run out as soon as he got the opportunity.

"You don't remember? You were hurt. I offered to help you," the man said, crouching down to meet his eyes.

Harry leaned away from him. His memory was pretty blurry about the night before. A group of guys his age had taken interest in his things and probably thought he had a lot of cash stashed away somewhere because they probably saw this rich man hand him money on a daily basis.

Harry had tried to stand his ground, but he was outnumbered. The next thing he knew, he felt a sharp pain in his stomach. The boys took all his things—his backpack filled with his spare clothes, cash, and some left over food. They took his shoes and his jacket, leaving him shivering on the cold ground. He clutched his stomach desperately, his head spinning at the sight of blood pouring out from his wound and seeping through his shirt.

His eyes were closing when he heard a car stop beside him. He felt someone grab his arm, saying something about helping him, making Harry nod weakly. After that, he went unconscious.

Right. So this man really did help him and saved him from bleeding out on the street. He cleared his throat. "Um. Thanks." He paused, and then blurted out, "But why did you help me?"

Harry wasn't naive enough to think that this man was just a kind person and decided to take in a homeless boy he saw in the street. Even then, a man like that would probably have brought him to a hospital, and not their own home. Harry's skin crawled.

"Because we're more or less the same," the man said, his brown eyes boring into his.

Harry doubted they had any similarities at all. "What do you mean?"

The man smiled, taking his arm and pulling him to his feet. Harry grimaced at the touch, quickly pulling his arm away when he was standing.

"Come and eat some breakfast with me. We can talk then." the man said, quickly turning on his heel and heading out the door.