So thirsty....my lips felt so dry as I lash out my tongue over them. I opened my eyes slowly to a bright room and a biping sound that I noticed was coming from a machine beside the bed.My eyes travel to my left hand that was hooked unto a bag of blood hanging over the bed. I felt a sharp pain in my right shoulder as I struggle to sit down.Where the hell are the nurses when you need them...I threw the sheets that was covering my body and dropped my bare legs on the tiled floor.So cold...“You shouldn’t be up, sir” came a voice by the door. A lady dressed in blue pants and top rushed to me dropping a clipboard she was holding unto the bed to push me back to lay down slowly.“Th-thirsty...”“Right!...that’s why you have that thingy. See? Just press that next time you need something okay?” She motions to my left hand with a smile. A little remote thingy to my reac
So thirsty....my lips felt so dry as I lash out my tongue over them. I opened my eyes slowly to a bright room and a biping sound that I noticed was coming from a machine beside the bed.My eyes travel to my left hand that was hooked unto a bag of blood hanging over the bed. I felt a sharp pain in my right shoulder as I struggle to sit down.Where the hell are the nurses when you need them...I threw the sheets that was covering my body and dropped my bare legs on the tiled floor.So cold...“You shouldn’t be up, sir” came a voice by the door. A lady dressed in blue pants and top rushed to me dropping a clipboard she was holding unto the bed to push me back to lay down slowly.“Th-thirsty...”“Right!...that’s why you have that thingy. See? Just press that next time you need something okay?” She motions to my left hand with a smile. A little remote thingy to my reac
I find the boy in the kitchen.For the last few months it’s been only Catherine and I in the house, and it’s a good few hours before she’s back from work. I’m expecting some one-on-one quality time with my laptop before I leave for my baseball practice. I throw my bag in the corner, kick off my shoes and head to the stairs. I pass the kitchen with only a brief glance—but then I stop and do a double take.The kid sitting on a stool in the middle of the kitchen looks lazily up at me. There’s no curiosity in his blue gaze—only calm evaluation and lots of eyeliner. He’s dressed in a black tee shirt and black jeans, and his overgrown hair—also black—falls on his shoulders and forehead. He looks as out of place in our yellow sun lit kitchen as Marilyn Manson at a children’s party. For a moment I think I’ve run into a robber or something, but he’s too calm and unmoving, as if he’s su
No swearing in the house.” I pause on the top stair and listen to Catherine’s voice coming from the guest room—the one across the corridor from mine. “It comes without saying, but no drugs or alcohol in the house—or outside of it, for that matter,” she says. “Don’t take your food upstairs, please. We’ve had problems with mice before, and I wouldn’t want that to return.” I make a few steps on the worn out blue carpet, stop in front of the open door and glance inside. Catherine is smoothing wrinkles on the bed cover, while Raven stands with his back to me, his bag on the floor at his feet. “Also, no sleepovers,” she says. “Too bad,” he says. “I like sleepovers.” She leaves the bed alone and straightens up, giving him a hesitant look. “See, Raven...since I’m responsible for you now, I can’t allow any kind of promiscuous behavior, particularly given your...well... history. Hence, no sleepovers.
I set the alarm to seven AM and switch my bedside lamp off. The room goes dark. I lay on my back, looking at the ceiling decorated by the shadows from the tree behind my window.As tired as I am after my baseball practice, I couldn’t be any less sleepy. The house is too quiet. There was no light under the door across the hall when I came upstairs. There was some light under Catherine’s door, though, a soft yellow glow in the end of the corridor.I should just go and talk to her. But she’s always been reluctant to tell me much about the children she fostered. She believed it was better if I approached them with an open mind.Yet I need to know more about Raven. Why was it such a last-minute decision? Why did she act so nervous around him?If I go to her room now, though, Raven might hear our voices and know we’re talking about him. Not that I care, but she might. She might refuse to talk.I sigh and rub
I cross the dark room, catch the curtain fluttering in the wind and look out of the window. There’s a thick oak tree growing right in front of the house, its branches so close to the walls that they have to be trimmed every spring. I look down and, through the maze of leaves, I see a slim figure in a dark hoodie let go of the lowest branch and jump to the ground with a muffled thump.Raven.My first instinct is to call out for him, but I hold my tongue. If he went to such lengths to sneak out, it’s unlikely he’ll just come back when called. Also, it could wake Catherine up, and I don’t want to upset her. She relies on me. I can handle this.I turn around and hurry back to my room. I move around it like a tornado, grabbing and pulling on my pants, shirt, shoes, tying my shoelaces. Then I tiptoe to the stairs and go down as quiet as I can. There, I grab my keys and head for the exit.Once on the street, I breath in
Dark trees blur together as I keep on running, turning from one desolate alley to another. Occasionally, I notice people. Some of them stare at me, others step back into the shadows, even less willing to be seen than I am to see them. Whoever comes here after dark knows what they’re looking for. What am I looking for?Raven. I’ve got to find Raven and get out of here.Finally, I stop by a small grey building with a restroom sign on its wall. Ladies to the right, gentlemen to the left. Even without the sign, the smell in unmistakable. I lean with one hand on the brick wall and try to catch my breath.I’ve lost him. I should just go home and hope he comes back. If he doesn’t...well, not that I care about him, but Catherine could lose her fostering license if something happened to him while in her care, and helping children means so much to her.Damn.There’s voices behind the wall, and then a quiet
When I come home from school, I can tell that Raven is already there. His school bag is on the floor by the entrance and his shoes are lying next to the shoe rack. Apart from that, music is blaring upstairs.My annoyance rising, I glance into the kitchen. The sink is full of dirty dishes from the last night and today. He’s been living with us for three days already, and he hasn’t washed them once, despite picking it as his chore. Either Catherine will have to do it again, or I will, to save her the trouble.No freaking way.I go up the stairs. His door is closed, but he’s not allowed to lock it, so I push it and stride in, and then freeze, the volume of music so powerful it almost pushes me back.Raven is sitting by his desk—his profile to me, his feet on the table, his books and papers in disarray, his clothes on the bed. He has begun plastering posters of what appears to be his favorite band, “Fake Drug&rd