The Lost Boy

The Lost Boy, 3.

beep beep Beep Beep Beep BEEEEEP

The alarm grew progressively louder as Jamie lay in bed, willing himself to fall back to sleep.

BEEEEEEEP

“Oh, come on,” he whispered. He slammed his fist over the OFF button and let himself fall out of bed. “I get orders even from you.”

Jamie picked himself up off the floor and pulled on a t-shirt. Vaguely registering that it smelled, he stumbled into the bathroom completely unaware of his younger half siblings playing tug of war with one of his old team jerseys.

The mirror was fogged when he entered the bathroom. He was the last person to use it this morning, again. Any thoughts he had been entertaining of a hot shower quickly left his mind. He leaned close to the mirror as he brushed his teeth, letting the cold-as-ice feeling press against his forehead. It felt good. He rinsed, and reached up for a brush, avoiding the face staring back at him. Jamie never looked at himself if he could help it. He didn’t like his reflection. It reminded him of someone he didn’t want to think about.

Today, something snapped. His eyes locked on the ones staring back at him. They were green. Green flecked with gold. His father’s eyes. Smash. Shards of glass went flying in all directions.

Blood streamed down his hand. It swelled, and turned purple. And he didn’t even flinch. He felt no pain. He felt relieved. As though all the hurt and distrust and pent-up emotions he had been experiencing left his body with the blood. Blood vessels were popping out of his skin, which had become transparent. Without thinking, he thrust his hand under the still running faucet, and let the water mix with his blood.

“Get your lazy ass the hell out already!”

The gruff screech brought Jamie back to reality. Shit, he thought. It was his uncle. The one who refused to accept the fact that Jamie was a relative. He quickly wrapped his hand in gauze and left the bathroom.

Once safely locked inside his bedroom and away from the cold stare of Stanley’s eyes, Jamie unwrapped his hand and examined it. It was still swollen and purple, but no longer see-through. The cuts were crusting over and tender to the touch. He re-dressed it, and then dressed himself. He could already tell that it was going to be a long day.

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