So, this was it. Sweat on his brow. Rain pelting down. Mud filling shoes. A old man with a rugged limp stands before me. A cane raised to strike down with little strength he's mustered.
I'm panting. This is where we end. I've spent years tormented by the abuse. The bruises black and blue, abrasions turning to welps, blood seeping down the side of our brains. It hurts too much. Just put me out of my misery. End this everlasting anguish.
My abuser lunges for a final attack. I squint ready to greet my father. But the old man swings his weapon and I see blue and red in the distance.
My protector. My breathing is labored. I think I'm going to pass out. I see snippets of my abuser falling and guns being drawn. Voices shouting and arms raising. They grab the old man and throw his cane. They turn him as he falls to his knees, he faces me. Full head of gray, bright blue eyes. My lights are almost out, but I can visualize every worried crease. I smile and he starts to grin. The mud flies as his knees slam into the ground.
"It's okay, you're okay."
I nod. It's dark. Yet I know I am finally safe. Greg House saved me.
It started with a sniffle.
"He's sick, Robert." My mother exclaimed.
"He can't be sick." He retorted worried. Oh, not worried for me. The man could care less if I was sick. For the 12 years I've known him he's been nothing but a twisted, tortuous, narcissistic, abusive ass.
"Robert, we can't just let him go to school ill with all these new viruses popping up! Plus, the school needs a CERTIFIED doctors note. They're already on us about truancy."
My mother tries her best to look out for me. She raised me all alone for the first two years. Homeless, jobless, she use to panhandle to survive. It was a rough life, but it was a happy one. She used to dote on me and sing lullabies, but then she met Robert. At first, he was everything you'd want. He saved us from the streets. Put a roof over our head, made sure we were clean. I'm sure there was other things, but I was so young. I can't really remember anything else before the day he laid his hands on my mom. After that, every day after was abuse. I'm not sure why my mom hasn't left, maybe she feels we are indebted, maybe he has some good qualities I don't see. All I know is I'm 14 and I absolutely hate this man and wish every day he was dead.
"He's a teenager, he can tough it out. Can't you, boy?"
"Sure." I always tried to make my answers brief. I've learned anything more than two words can be perverted into an attack and anything less...
"Now don't you be getting an attitude!"
"He's just answering your question. Robert!"
"I don't need your lip either!" He jerked towards her, but I grab his arm.
"I'm sorry Robert, I'll go to school now." Calmly. Steady. My mother is cowering. Robert towers over me, but he eases.
"Go on, get to school! Oh - hey! And don't stop at that danm store! I ain't made of money for your danm breath mints!" I grab my backpack from next to and end table. The sudden motion shook the small porcelain green lamp from off its stand. I groaned as I quickly pick it up and set it back. I swiftly fling my backpack around, the weight of the books inside hit my lumbar. I wince and lift my shirt to see the freshest wound.
Thats why Robert is worried. This one is obvious, no doctor could ignore it upon a simple inspection but it's a dull purple with a tint of yellow. Should be healed in a couple weeks. For the last few years, my mother has grown weak from the attacks, so I've turned Robert's attention more towards me. I can survive them. I drop my simple black tee back down. I just will have to make sure the shirt doesn't lift at all throughout the day. I don't want to draw any attention.
I make the turn at the end of our block. I look around and check behind me before darting to my favorite convenient store. I squint in the sunlight before shoving the dirt covered glass paned door open. The clerk cheers,
"Little Leo! What's going on my lion cub?" She rubs my curly brown hair. "My! Your locks are turning into quite the mane!" I push her hand away.
"Head and shoulders does a lot for the dead ends." I retort.
"There we are! Always with a clever response!" I walk towards an end cap. "Getting your usual?" I analyze my options.
"Nah. The old coon said I got a habit." I pick up a pack of extra. "But he didn't say I couldn't get a substitute. I mean, I can't just quit cold turkey!" A sneeze comes over me.
"Now don't be getting them germs all over my merchandise!" I sneeze again. "Lord boy!"
"Well clean your stuff! It's probably all this dust in here!"
"Or could be a cold." A voice I've never heard before rings from the aisle over. I dart my cobalt eyes and see an older man, roughly 60s with a caddy hat covering his eyes. He comes around the corner. He's leaning on a wooden cane. Scruffy short beard, hair cut almost like a buzz. "Or cancer, maybe lupus." I raise my eyebrow. "It always starts with a sneeze." He jeers.
The clerk busts into a laugh, "I think you've met your match, Leo!"
"I don't have cancer." I mumble and stare back at the gum. I recognize this guy. For the past couple weeks he's been in grabbing a cup of coffee and meandering. I had felt like he'd watch me, but from my volunteer work at a Nursing Home, I've learned sometimes old people do that cause they reminisce on their youth. It still would creep me out, but I usually shrugged it off. I could definitely take this guy. He looks about 6 foot, could be taller if he wasn't leaning over a cane. I'm about 5'4, lean, but I've been doing pushups and my mom says I'm still a growing boy, that is if Robert hasn't stunted anything.
"No, probably not. But, based on your alleged habit, you do have stinky breath."
"I just like to be ready when I smooch the ladies."
"How long have you been sneezing?"
"A few days." He gasps.
"Oh my God, you ARE dying!"
"I am?" I'm shocked. I clinch my lower back.
"No." My face contorts into confusion. "You probably do have the side effect of teenage boyism and want to have a nice smelling breath, but considering you're getting a jumbo pack.." he motions to the gum "means you're taking a few more to get it EXTRA crisp." He winks, "like the pun?"
"What are you? Stocking me?"
"Yes, I have an obsession with young boys, they locked me up for it once." I stare disturbed. Who is this dude? "I'm kidding." He says as if I should know. "I have been to jail, but that was for running my car into someone house."
"So….I'm not dying?"
"We've already established this. Keep up." I let go of my back. "However, a sudden onset of really bad breath accompanied by sneezing could be a cold."
"So I have a cold? I don't need a doctor for that." He shrugs.
"Maybe you're right. Maybe you don't need a doctor for a cold, but you might for an infection." I roll my eyes.
"Nice try, I've read a few medical journals, I know what Sinusitis is." I sit down the jumbo pack of gum and pick up a regular size.
"Hmmm, kay." He states unsure. "Medicine interests you?" I give him a side glance.
"It's a hobby."
"Well, in your hobby did you read about OTHER infections? Like the one that could be caused by that giant contusion on your back?" I gasp and turn sharply towards him. How did he? How could he? "Curious thing about pain, it demands to be felt...and soothed. You've been rubbing your back since you got here." I look down. I had been so careless, and one hand was wrapped around my lumber rubbing it. "Now, I wouldn't be too alarmed if you were a nice sexy woman, or even one of those pubescent girls you're trying to smell nice for as once a month that area decides to screech out copious amounts of blood which usually is accompanied by back and abdomen pain. You could also be having kidney failure but you're still standing so it more than likely means..." He took his cane and lifted up the back of my shirt just slightly revealing the bruise. He gets stern, "you read medical journals so you know if this is the one you should be concerned about." I smack his cane away,
"Get away from me you perve!"
"Dad? Stepdad? Weird uncle?"
"Why's it a guy?" He thinks
"Your mommy?"
"NO!" My voice cracks. The clerk looks up. I smile and pull this old man down another aisle, "Look man I don't need you causing a scene. I got my life figured out."
"Right. Why do you call him a coon?"
"What?"
"Earlier you called your old man a coon."
I'm quiet for a moment and then I mumble back a response, "Because Racoons kill chickens." I had read once that chickens' biggest predator were raccoons. Most people think it's weasels or foxes but that's because they already have a bad reputation, so farmers will do everything to ensure their flocks are protected from those critters. But raccoons…they have thumbs and can open doors, and once they're in the coop, they'll go after every single bird. They don't just take one or two to fill their hunger, they attack every single one like it's a game. Only the limber birds that can fly or move out of the way quickest will be spared. His eyes seem to pity me. "But he can't eat me."
"Now, that would be perverted."
I scoff and take my gum to the counter. "and he's not my old man." He follows with a small cup of coffee.
"Absent father?"
"No father. Never knew him, but apparently he's dead." The clerk scans the gum,
"You know this man, leo?" She asks. I look back. If I say no, this dude been staring me down for a few weeks and now he's figured out I have a giant welp on my back, she'd get concerned.
"Yeah, he's a..."
"Doctor!" He interjects. He puts his coffee on the counter as well and motions to the gum while pulling out his wallet "I am doing an at home visit later so his snot doesn't get over anymore of your precious discounted merch."
"They still do those?" She asks.
"Would you like one?" He winks. She rolls her eyes. He pays for both items. I mumble a thank you and head out the door, he follows but I'm faster. His cane inhibits his speed, and he struggles to keep up.
"I don't need a doctor and if you're planning to follow me home, I have school!" I taunt.
"I know! I also know you definitely don't want me reporting your nasty secret to the school!" I turn sharply around.
"You wouldn't." He shrugs. "What is your obsession with me, huh?!" I charge towards him. Rage is boiling. Why is this old hack inserting himself into business that's not his? "Do you understand what would happen if people knew? Huh?"
"You would have help." I scoff,
"People would throw rocks at my mom! She's doing the best she can, okay? They'd take me away and put me in some other situation that'd be just as bad. I can handle this! My mom can't! I'm protecting her!"
"It doesn't really seem like she's protecting you." I pace back and forth,
"What…..what do you want?!" I rub my hands through my hair. "You just here to play mind games?! Great job, weirdo! You know about my home situation! Now let me go about my life and you keep being the creepy old dude hanging out in a 7/11!"
"I want to help you." He bites his lip and looks down. I shake my head,
"Why?" He doesn't answer. "Nobody else has ever given this much thought about what goes on in MY life. You know how many kids in the world need help? Go and save them if that's what you're looking for, I can survive."
"Don't want to." I'm perplexed.
"But why? Why me?"
"Because you're the one in front of me. If I see another kid in need then I'll help, but recently I've seen you. Every day you've come in with a different ailment. Two weeks ago you dropped a bag of chips and kept soothing your hand afterwards, a few days after.." he limps towards me, "you favored your left leg, a few days after that your neck was sore, and now…" We're about a foot apart, he glares directly into my eyes, "look, I don't want the police involved just as much as you." I tilt my head sideways slightly "But I know I can help." He turns around. "I'll be at your place this evening when you're out of school." I'm bewildered.
"What…you can't!"
"Don't worry!" He raises his arms, turns and smirks, "They're much less likely to beat up on a cripple." He turns to continue walking,
"But…you don't know where I live!" He keeps walking, and I wonder….does he?
I take a piece of gum and begin to chew while continuing my path towards school. This guy. For the first time, someone was brazen enough to confront the facts of my living situation. This old man observes me for weeks and now claims he is going to help. No one has ever helped, they've always made it worse…but I feel…different…like I trust him. A comforting emotion. Can I really takes those stakes? I imagine Robert's reaction, he'll murder this dude. Well, I guess I can only hope he isn't another bird trapped in the coop.