"Shh, it's okay Johnny. I've got you. You're safe here." The soft voice of Mrs. Curtis brought comfort to the boy. He was scared shitless. His father had never hit him before, and now the poor boy was lying in Mrs. Curtis' arms. She laid him gently on the couch. "I'll be right back Johnny," she said quietly, heading towards the bathroom where the antiseptic was kept. "Poor boy," she said quietly to her husband, as she stood in the doorway of the living room. She walked back in, kneeling on the floor by the couch. "This will only sting a bit." Johnny hissed slightly as the cut on the side of his head was cleaned out.
"Thanks Mrs. Curtis," he said sitting up slowly. "I should get home, or I'll just get in more trouble."
Mrs. Curtis pulled him into a hug. "If he hits you again Johnny, you just come back here. We're always here for you."
"Aren't any floors for me to sweep. Not in my castle on a cloud.""Jonathon Cade!" Johnny winced as his mother's shrill voice pierced his ears. "Where the hell you been boy?" she screamed, grabbing his ear, pulling him into the house. Johnny barley got his hands out before he hit the floor. "Get in the kitchen and clean something. Get out of my sight!" she said, kicking him before he could stand. He scampered quickly to the kitchen. He wasn't in the mood to bleed more.
"There is a room that's full of toys. There are a hundred boys and girls"Johnny quietly snuck out of his bedroom window that night. He couldn't stay in that house. He was scared of getting beat again. He was eight; he had every right to be afraid. He headed quietly for the vacant lot. It was a warm night; it wouldn't be too bad sleeping there. It was definitely better than staying in his house. He settled down in a corner of the lot, on a patch of grass. It was scary out here at night, but he felt safer here.
"Nobody shouts or talks too loud. Not in my castle on a cloud."
Johnny stayed curled in a ball in a corner of the living room, listening to his parents scream. His return home had been inevitable. His parents were arguing, about him. They were fighting about who hated him more. His father was blaming his mother for having him, and she was yelling back that it was him that had gotten her pregnant. Johnny couldn't help but cry. His own parents hated him. They hated their own son. This is an awfully hard thing for a little kid to wrap his mind around. Johnny climbed to his feet, running from the house, ignoring his mother's screams of where the hell did he think he was going?
"There is a lady all in white. Holds me and sings a lullaby" "Johnny-cake, what's wrong sweetie?" Mrs. Curtis questioned the boy, as she sat him down on the couch."N-nothing," the small boy stuttered as Mrs. Curtis wrapped him in a hug, humming softly.
"It's okay Johnny. You can tell me what's wrong honey," she said soothingly. The poor boy was a wreck, something was obviously troubling the boy. When he remained silent, she hugged him closer, rubbing his back. "You can tell me sweetheart," she said quietly.
The poor boy choked out, "M-my parents don't love me!"
"She's nice to see, and she's soft to touch. She says Cosette, I love you very much."
"Oh Johnny-cake," Mrs. Curtis said softly, hugging the scared boy closer. "I love you Johnny sweetie," she said, as the boy slowly relaxed into her arms. "It's okay," she reassured him, rocking back and forth with him slowly. "We love you very much."
"I know a place where no ones lost. I know a place where no one cries. Crying at all is not allowed."
"Stop crying! It ain't helping you none!" the cruel voice of his father screamed at him. He tried to curl away from his father. It wasn't working. Nothing would stop him. He clenched his teeth hard. He tried to ignore the pain from his father's belt. He brought up Mrs. Curtis' face in his mind. He pretended he was safely curled up in her arms, far away from his father. He hid in his little daydream long after his father had left, and until he finally fell asleep.
"Not in my castle on a cloud."