The night grew older, as Kyle reached the end of the path and started towards the train track. It was silent, save for the occasional hooting of an owl or the soft pitter-patter of snow and Kyle felt isolated, as if the darkness was a black veil, obscuring all else. Suddenly a gust of wind hit Kyle hard and he pulled his hat tight around his ears, clutching it like a lifeline, feeling the wind's jagged teeth bite at him. Crossing the track, Kyle continued briskly, each step more determined than the next.
Left, right, left, right, left…
The young boy stopped and shivered, as he looked down at the house in front of him. Although Kyle had been visiting here for more than eight years, it looked identical to when he had approached it the first time. Snow balanced precariously on the cracked slate roof tiles, threatening to fall at any moment and icicles hung from the rotten wood that seemed to bind the house together. The windows were caked with grime, obscuring the house which lay within, that was unbelievably home to a family of five.
As Kyle made towards the front door, a light switched on in the front room and he heard a key turn in the lock. Ducking behind an old washing machine that stood next to the garden fence, Kyle watched as a man walked out into the front garden, holding a can of beer in one hand and slurring as he shouted back into the house, "Those bloody foxes are back again!"
"Who gives a fuck?" a woman screamed back, "Just get your lazy arse down to the off-licence and buy me some more cigarettes!"
Slamming the door, the man stumbled across the garden and off towards the town, mumbling under his breath to himself.
Keeping out of sight of the windows, Kyle made his way around to the back of the house. It looked slightly better from this angle, the back wall having been newly whitewashed and small clusters of flowers beginning to poke out from a pile of overturned earth. A new tyre swing was now hanging from the large tree that dominated the back yard. Kyle sat on the tyre and swung it back and forth, back and forth, slowly remembering, reminiscing of the childhood that now felt over. Four years had changed it all.
Kyle felt nervous now, much more so than he had when leaving his house. Yet he reminded himself that this was nothing new, that he'd been sneaking out for years. But in his gut, he knew that this time was different. That it was inevitable that something had to happen.
Kyle slipped off the swing and started back towards the house. Treading carefully to avoid the flowers, he lifted the window that he always knew would be open and slipped through, landing softly on the cold wooden floor. Closing the window and pushing the lock into place, Kyle turned and surveyed the room. Despite the drab exterior of the house, this room looked bright and cheerful. Posters hung on the wall, of cars, bands and even a large photo of the Denver Broncos. The bed was made, with two cushions resting against the headboard and an orange jacket hung from the back of the door.
On the other side of the room was a writing desk, with papers covering it, spilling over the edges and onto the floor. A desk lamp lay amongst them, illuminating a young boy, his head resting gently between two piles of papers. The boy had messy gold hair that flowed smoothly from his scalp and his short arms were spread across the desk, the left holding a pencil and the other a mobile phone, displaying an unsent text message. Although the boy was clearly asleep, the pencil still moved in his hand, repeating the same pattern in the air, over and over.
Kyle walked slowly over to the boy and then placed his hand on the boy's shoulder.
"Dude, wake up!"
The boys began to move, lifting his head from the desk and then wearily shaking his head, as his bright blue eyes opened and he noticed Kyle. He smiled.
"Well look what the cat dragged in!" laughed Kenny, as he attempted to neaten up the papers he had been resting on, "What the hell are you doing here?"
"Just checking up on you. I missed you at school today, where were you? I had to actually hang around with Butters and…"
Kyle stopped abruptly, as Kenny's face darkened at the mention of school and he kicked the waste-paper basket next to him, spilling the contents out onto the floor. There was silence for a moment.
"Dude, I…" Kyle made to say, but Kenny cut him short.
"Look, I don't want to go back to that place ever again!" Kenny spat, but then suddenly all the anger seemed to drain from him and be replaced by despair, as tears began to roll down his cheeks. Before Kenny could say another word, Kyle threw his arms around him, holding him tight, protecting him. They stayed that way for a while, the slightly younger boy comforting the slightly older one, Kyle waiting for an explanation for the sudden emotional breakdown, Kenny merely enjoying having someone there to look after him. Yet eventually, they broke apart, both boys sitting down on the bed behind them.
If you've got up to this point, thanks for sticking with me this far and hopefully there'll be another chapter soon