"Fight back!"

Another hit cocked my head back; another crack sounded in my skull. The world blurred and doubled. Where am I? I raised my fists, trying to focus on him. He slapped my face.

"Hit me harder!"

I threw a gut punch with all my might. It wasn't enough. BAM! He gave me a proper example. My diaphragm sputtered as I stumbled back. My tongue tasted metallic.

"And take those stupid girly hairclips out! No wonder you're getting bullied!"

As I reached for my hair, he used this opportunity to strike.

"Don't be open! Be first to the punch!"

The gravel slammed against my palms and swam like ocean waves. Colours- static- balloons- eyes- do I remember?

"I wanna s-stop. I can't- I can't breathe."

"You busted your whole face last time and Father fixed it just fine. Get up."

He did? I watched my bloody spit create a pattern underneath me. The pain melted into a scalding heat. I longed for someone to comfort me- who could help me? I thought he was helping me. Does he actually care? Why do I keep longing for that stupid golden bear? I can't remember, can I? The tears kept rolling.

"Oh, man up, will you? You're such a baby."

"I'm not a baby," the words left my mouth in a gurgled whimper. The boy- those eyes looked familiar- crouched.

"Then stop acting like one," he growled. Then I was on my feet. He was right. Did I want to believe it? No. I swung my fist at the weakest point on the enemy: square in the manhood.

"Is that man enough for you?" I dared to taunt. I'm brave- I'm confident, just like he wanted. After a pained gasp and a curl of his spine, he growled like a fox. An evil, jealous little fox.

"You know what? Sure."

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The neighbourhood owned a blue glow in the premature morning- two or three o' clock, perhaps. I sharpened my gaze on a specific brick house down the street. I had to go back. While I loitered nearby, I couldn't get a certain face out of my head. He knows something.

Readjusting the bandages that secured my brittle arms, I questioned my own motives, do I want to break in? No. Not a window. And the police are already looking for me. I stepped up to the clean-cut grass of my big brother's lawn and frowned. Just looking at the front porch brought envy bubbling in my chest.

But if I get in, he can't shut me out. He can help me. He can tell me if I'm really real- or where Father is. I'll be damned if he isn't keeping some puzzle piece from me. Why else would he never call to check up on us? He left the house as soon as he got the chance!

I tightened my hands into fists. And I stayed. Like an idiot.

Peering through the back window once more, I saw not a soul around. The lack of life in that petite kitchen sent a chill down my spine. Above the stove, a dim yellow bulb flickered. I squinted past the table, able to see further now that everyone had gone. There was a wall telephone and a calendar occupying the wall. A black boxy television illuminated the living area with vivid blue light. The colours fell upon a coffee table- that was not a coffee table. That was a box.

My lungs shrivelled, limiting my breath. I knew that box. Its dull metal sides against my elbows- I'm trapped! I can't get out! I leaned against the house as my legs wobbled. I knew that box. Everything swam around me; the air pressed closer. I felt feverish staring at those two dumb, dumb padlocks.

I can't breathe- can't breathe- I- I have to get out! I have to open it! It's mine! It's mine, and he can't- he-

I blinked. What's wrong with me? I tore away my stare, but not for long; I had to look back. When my blue-glowing eyes landed on the box, its dark inside appeared before me. I'm trapped! What felt like hot jelly swirled between my limbs. My heart thumped against my ribcage.

"NO!" I tried to yell, but no sound came out. My throat was stuck; the jelly suffocated me. Seeing both black and every colour in existence, I threw my hands against the glass/lid. The padlocks rattled. YES! I gave several strikes. My fists ached with every punch. After trying with my elbow, I still couldn't breathe. My sweaty hair slapped my forehead.

There's another way! I screeched in my barely coherent mind. I quickly scanned the grass. Booyah! I scored a good-sized rock in my trembling, busted fingers. CRAAASH! Glass exploded in my face. I slung my chest over the window sill, ignoring several stabbing pains. All I could think about was the box.

Something obstructed my freedom! NO! I saw dark eyebrows and those glaring green eyes. I gasped. The box let me go.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" James' exclamation shocked me out of my reverie. Apparently, he'd been asleep on the living room couch, far out of my view.

"I'M-" I stopped. Sweat poured off my face like a waterfall. I finally felt the kitchen counter under my palms and my legs dangling from yet another window. I went numb.

What am I doing?!

"I'm- th-the box, J-James. I neeed it," my dry lips weakly explained. Paler than the moon, James glanced behind him. He looked back at me without a change in expression. I swallowed hard. I probably sounded like some desperate dopehead.

"You need the box?" he breathed carefully. I nodded with way too much enthusiasm. James took a step back, unbreaking his gaze.

"Okay."

He didn't dare take his eyes off the crazy-ass man hanging out the kitchen window. His back hit the wall. I watched, my mouth ajar as the pace of my breathing increased. Open the box. I tried to focus on James and his intense eye contact. He grabbed the telephone. Why did I sit there and watch him input those three numbers?

"Someone's breaking into my house," he hurried, then listed the address. He held his stare as if he were examining the contents of my head. I finally snapped out of it.

"WAIT, NO! DON'T DO TH-AAT!"

James' wife hurried into the living room. Her doll-like face wore a petrified expression similar to a victim in a horror flick. She joined her husband's side in a swift, panicked motion.

"Should I get Tommy?" she blurted. James shook his head, muttering, "No." She glanced at me about five times.

"But it's that- that guy on th- everybody- we have to get- I'm getting Tommy!"

"Bethany. Do not," James replied firmly. As he looked back at me, I realised I should do something. I gripped the edge of the counter. Alarmed, James' wife squeaked. I pulled my fatigued body through the window. The woman yanked a broom from the kitchen corner. My eyes caught that wretched box again before she aimed the tip of the broomstick between them.

"STAY BACK, YOU!" Bethany shouted in my face. She eyed her husband over her shoulder and whimpered, "James, what do we do?" The man in question slid the phone into her empty hand.

"Stay on the line."

His eyebrows lowering, James approached me. His pale expression was unreadable. Was he afraid, or did he consider me nothing? I slid off the counter and barely stopped a fall. He watched me stand on knobbly legs. Once upright, I threw my hands out in surrender.

"I'm s-sorry, dude, I-" I started quietly, meeting my brother's blank gaze, "I didn't mean to break in like this, but I just- I just really- I n- I'm all alon-ne, and ssomething's happening to m-m-my body, and y- please, I- surely, you still c-care about your little brother-"

"No!" James butted in, and I shrank back. "My little brother didn't deserve what I did to him!" The more I looked at his eyes, the more static-y colours filled my vision. What is he-

"I killed him," he rasped. Lightheaded, I took five years trying to grasp the edge of the counter behind me. Hesitation hid under James' stock-still face. He stepped into my air, his shoulders rearing back.

"You are not my little brother," he declared as firmly as possible. "You're a pretender. A desperate machine. Now, I'm asking you to get off my property." My heart sank into oblivion. I raised my chin and eyed the man before me. I couldn't recognize his face- I just saw the eyes. My breath faltered for the umpteenth time today.

I- I'm not… The sweaty teenagers grabbing my limbs and forcing me away- the fox- the mask! He hurt me- he- it was always-

"NO!" I screamed, my jaw rigid and my fists shaking. In a blink, I pounced. Our bodies earthquaked the floor. My hands fumbled around, unable to decide whether to re-ball into fists or squeeze some neck fat. I pinned James to the tile.

"GET OFF!" both he and his wife yelled. The former's face burned a bright red; the sharp features of our father shined through his frustrated expression. I couldn't stand to look at it. LEFT HOOK! JUST LIKE YOU TAUGHT ME! His arm absorbed the strike. I tried again and again. With a twist of his hip, James shifted the power. His legs locked me down now.

I'm not backing down! I'm not losing another fight! He can't stop me! He won't stop me! my enraged brain cried, then flooded my head with old memories. The masks pulled me up- I squirmed and flailed, but it was no use- no!

"You heard the little man! He wants to get even closer!"

I yanked out of his grasp. My fists tightened autonomously. James threw his arms around my upper body, attempting to restrain me. His voice wavered with fear, "Just stop already!" But I didn't want to stop. I acted on instinct; I followed my memory: I sank my teeth into exposed arm.

James' anguished wail echoed in my ears. I couldn't let go. Like a pissed-off bulldog or a malfunctioning animatronic bear, my outstretched jaw was locked. My teeth plunged through thick meat and muscle and clinked against fresh bone. Hot blood seeped onto my tongue, draining down my throat.

"MICHAEL!" James growled- he'd actually used my name. Bethany Afton shrilled. She slapped dusty broom bristles across my face; the force knocked my jaw loose. James kicked the rest of me away. I clambered into the corner, coughing up blood, skin, and hair. The married couple examined the gore. Bits of fragmented teeth stuck out from the bite wound. My eyes widened when the two looked back at me. I raised a finger, barely able to hold it up. I knew I'd gone too far.

"I kn-knew you knew! You-u knew there was ssomething wrong!" I shot aimlessly. Tears burned my eyes and I swallowed hard, muttering in absolute regret, "Wh- I th- why did I th-think you actually c-cared? Why d-did I trust you? You're a bastard. You always ha-have been. You n-n-never cared." James' hair collapsed over his eyes.

"Of course I never cared," he spoke just above a whisper. "I knew Father had done something. I knew it." James rose to his feet, clutching his bleeding arm, and eyed the mess that was me up and down. With utter dread, confusion, and disgust warping her face, Bethany gave him a light tug on the arm. He wasn't finished yet.

"But they thought I was crazy!" he laughed painfully. "You were God's wonderful miracle, they said. And I… was ignored. As always." I couldn't bring myself to look up at him. My previously raging mind had quieted into a blank nothing. What was I supposed to say?

"James, let's go," his wife called quietly before he added something else. He didn't want to leave me at first; there was more he wanted to say. Did a small part of him still care? Their shadows soon disappeared down the hallway, and the kitchen was empty again.

I watched the glass speckles glisten on my clothes, then stared at the lines on the tile floor. The sharp taste of flesh overpowered my sticky mouth and wrenched my stomach. I looked up. My eyes caught the bulky, threatening gaze of that old box again.

The box! It's mine! I thought, feeling its pull. My breath and vision shortened. It's mine, it's mine- I need it- my box! I started forward on my hands and knees, crawling like a zombie. My pulse was getting louder. The blare of sirens sounded from down the street, rapidly approaching. Red-blue lights spilt into the windows. The commotion snapped me out of my spiralling mind. The police!

"Oh! Oh, dear! Oh, no. Oh, shit!"

I clambered to my feet, using the counter as leverage. I looked at the busted window. Absolutely not! Wincing, I got to the front door and closed my fingers around the handle. The door rattled and refused to budge. I tugged on my hair. It's locked! What do I- oh, I'm inside the house, stupid! With a groan, I flicked up the door lock and stumbled onto the porch.

"Put your hands in the air!" bellowed a policeman from behind a car door. My shoulders hunched immediately. The cars piled up down the street, and their passengers unloaded by the second. Panic twisted my internal organs, weighing down my stomach and making breathing impossible.

Oh, no, no- run? Stay? No- should I listen? GO! Wait, I- what do I- they'll take me- my box! Stay! I can't- I can't breathe- RUN! My brain was an unintelligible, unhelpful mess. I didn't know what to do. There was no one to tell me what to do.

Time sped up around me; cops zoomed forward; flashlight beams blinded me. I finally started into an awkward run, my leg muscles tightening thanks to the fuel of adrenaline. Tears and static blurred the world. I didn't see the curb until my toes crunched against it. No, NO! Flailing my arms did nothing to stop the fall. The ground slammed against my body like a gut punch, knocking the air out of my lungs. CRACK! I jerked upright from kissing concrete. My ears rang so loud that the noise vibrated my body from the inside out.

My face! I instantly knew. A muffled holler stole my attention. The cops threw their hands on their ears and stumbled, yelling incomprehensibly to each other. One of them doubled over and sprayed vomit across the lawn. This is happening again?! I forced myself to focus.

I pushed my numbing body upright with all the energy I had, grunting as I did. A searing something dangled underneath my top. Is that my heart?! What is- I didn't have time to inspect it; the disoriented policemen were scrambling for weapons. The sight of a taser pretzeled my belly. A shock! Shrieking, I broke into a clunky sprint and dashed down the street. My body swayed, off-balanced, making me even sicker. A cop yelled something I didn't quite catch.

Several metres later, my feet flew out from under me for the umpteenth time. I lost control of my heavy limbs. The ground dipped and refused to catch me; I realised after tumbling like Billy-o for what seemed like several hours that I had not seen the hill ahead.

"This-ss is unfort-tunate," the words faltered past my damaged mouth. Muffled shouts approached the top of the hill. I dragged my aching body through meaty grass. I squinted forward with fuzzy, flickering vision. At first sight, a crawlspace between an old house foundation looked like a dark vent opening. There was no time for hesitation. I squeezed through, wheezing as I failed to grasp a breath. I positioned myself into a fetal position. The faint blue glow of my eyes lit up webs and chunks of Earth. The flashlight beams ran over my body, peeking into the crawlspace.

Oh, God, please, please, please- they cannot find me here, I began to pray. My brain replayed the memory of hiding underneath a desk. I forced myself into that compact stance as carefully as possible. My skin crawled with dread. The Bidybabs weren't trying to take me to the slammer!

The worn wood-and-dirt space rattled and cried out as footsteps boomed above. The policemen were searching the old house. Dust tickled my nose. My ears buzzed, my heart pounded, and my ribs ticked. I hugged myself tighter and hoped they couldn't hear me. Their muffled voices neared.

"-believe that nothing's here."

"You're telling me we lost our guy that fast?!"

Oh, good, they're just as stupid as I am. I didn't let myself breathe just yet. They were right above me.

"Did you see his eyes?" one of the cops whispered loudly. "That's no guy- that's some Terminator stuff!"

"It doesn't matter," another joined in. "He's obviously a threat. We've got a BOLO out on him already; after tonight's action and the news coverage, it won't be long before someone calls him in."

"Eugh, whatever he did, he made me upchuck my lunch bits. I'm taking a nap at the station."

Their footsteps trailed off as they left the house. I waited for what felt like centuries. In the silence, I heard the faint whirring and heartbeat of my broken body and screeching insects minding their business. They have to be gone now. I finally took in a breath of air, my chest shuddering. It wasn't enough to de-cloud my head.

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I startled awake with a shiver and a gasp. Something's in me! The wriggling something felt like ice in my clothes. I shimmied out of the crawlspace, wiggling onto dry grass like a fish out of water. Seconds later, an inky-striped snake slid out from underneath me.

"Rude," I mumbled hoarsely. As I tried to stand, stabbing pain blasted up my right leg, and there I went collapsing to the ground again. My foot felt like a size 16 bowling ball. I rolled over with a groan, slipped my shoe off, and inspected the damage. My swollen ankle wasn't the worst injury I'd seen so far.

How do I fix this? I wondered hopelessly, shaking my head. I broke my face, got shot, tore open my stomach, busted my hip, and now this? The more I pondered my worsening condition, the more anxiety shredded me apart. I pressed my temples and took a breath. I averted my eyes to the red sky above me. What time is it? Have I been out for an entire day?

I had to ease myself into standing. I practised painful steps, pacing slowly and trying to think for myself. There was no way I was accepting that I was alone now- no, there had to be someone. There has to be another way!

I ventured near the front door of the house, considering going inside. My eyes narrowed at the ghost of old graffiti art dancing across the wall. Who did that, and who cleaned it? The mental image of someone catching me here took the idea right out of my head.

What if everyone was a robot, my frazzled mind began to wander off, and I'm the only normal one? I'm the free one. Everyone else is trapped. Everyone else is dead! I frowned. I was being stubborn, I knew. When I folded my arms, I felt just for a second that I was curled up inside that wretched box. Like a coffin.

I'm going insane. I'm crazy. I'm trapped. I'm stuck in a box- STOP THINKING ABOUT THE BOX!

I took a miscalculated step and ended up in the grass once more. As I hissed a swear, something glittered in the corner of my eye. A few glass pieces and spare change hid between some weeds. I managed to pick up a quarter.

I'm a lucky boy, my brain commented dryly. Would use this for laundry if things weren't so tough right now. As I pocketed the coin, my hand brushed past a napkin. It took a few seconds to recall its origins. I gasped.

Holly's phone number! She could help me! She doesn't know anything about my past. She wouldn't know how to fix me, but surely she likes me enough to let me stow away at her place until everyone gives up and forgets about me?

An ounce of hope spread through my exhausted body, and it was enough to fuel it for a walk to the phone booth. I threw myself into it, taking heavy breaths. Once I grabbed the telephone, that itty-bitty hope shattered.

Oh, if she doesn't answer- I don't even know what Ennard said to her last time we spoke, I thought as I entered the number slowly. My jacket string tasted like salty mud in my mouth. I gritted my teeth every second that Holly didn't answer. Pick up, pick up, pick up-

"Hello?"

I blinked, forgetting how to speak for a moment. She actually-

"Hellooo?" she repeated.

"Uh, hello- this is Holly's n-number, right-" she didn't let me finish once she recognised my voice.

"Oh, hiii, Michael!"