As The Sun Grew Closer To The Horizon, Casting Its Golden Streaks Over The House, The Maid Finally Came

As the sun grew closer to the horizon, casting its golden streaks over the house, the maid finally came up with a plan, “You have to hide. I know a good place. They’ll never find you. Then you can stay with me…”

    Boston was exhausted and sore. He was broken and defeated. He had never really stood a chance. The maid had molded him and raised him exactly how she wanted him. So when she gave him this proposition, he didn’t argue. He nodded wordlessly and followed her. She opened a secret hatch in the wall that Boston had never seen before, “You must hide in here.”

    He knelt and crawled in, blindly trusting her, too tired to argue. It was so small he could barely fit. He couldn’t even turn around. The maid shut the hatch and there was silence. Then he could see the maids face in front of him in the dim light. He hadn’t realized that the cubby went forward more. Soon he heard his parents calling for him. The maid smiled and put a finger to her lips. He nodded and stayed quiet. He wasn’t leaving. After a while of searching, his parents left the house. ‘They probably think I ran off…’ His eyes slipped shut. He was so exhausted. The maid started hummng softly and soon he was asleep.

Watching my toddler figure out how to language is fascinating. Yesterday we were stumped when he kept insisting there was a “Lego winner” behind his bookshelf - it turned out to be a little Lego trophy cup. Not knowing the word for “trophy”, he’d extrapolated a word for “thing you can win”. And then, just now, he held up his empty milk container and said, “Mummy? It’s not rubbish. It’s allowed to be a bottle.” - meaning, effectively, “I want this. Don’t throw it away.” But to an adult ear, there’s something quite lovely about “it’s allowed to be a bottle,” as if we’re acknowledging that the object is entitled to keep its title even in the absence of the original function.

Just a couple days later, Jr is back. He’s leaning against that house again. You stop by him on your way to school with Sam, “Hey! Welcome back!” You know last time you saw him, you got into a fight, but isn’t that every time? Hopefully he’ll not take it too seriously… He nods, “Thanks…” But he’s distracted. His eyes are on Sam. You watch as his gaze slowly finds its way to his hickey, peeking out of his shirt. Sam blushes and covers it and Jr smirks. You get in his line of sight, “Ok, I know he’s your brother, but you can hold in the sex jokes ‘til I’m not around. I’m not interested in listening to you tease the living daylights out of him. Let’s be civil now.” Jr grins devilishly and Sam tugs on your shirt, “Come on, let’s go to school. There ain’t no way he’s keeping his big mouth shut…” Jr shrugs, “You’re the one going around with it on display Mr. Shy Boy…” Sam blushes deeper and tugs harder at your shirt. You glare at Jr, “Jerk,” and head to school. Jr’s laugh follows you and Sam as you head down the street. Sometimes you wonder if Jr will ever be nice. Aren’t jerky boys, like, supposed to change when they meet a girl? Aren’t they supposed to, like, “realise the errors of their ways” and all that? Well, it’s taking an annoyingly long time for Jr….

He’s running before you can question anything. Sam darts after him, “Jr wait!” You dart after Sam, “You can’t go with him! You’re not a werewolf! Guys!” You skid to a stop just before you reach the alley. You don’t want to get involved. You’re not magical, you can’t get bit, it could kill you. You don’t need to be in the midst of this. It turns out that it doesn’t matter what you need or do. The wolves spill out of the alley, it being too small to hold them. You scream and scramble back, but the wolves quickly engulf you. You duck behind a trash can quickly, trying to hide. Why do these things ALWAYS happen to you? ‘They didn’t before I met Jr…’ The thought barely has time to rush through your mind before a wolf whips around the trash can. It’s eyes fall on you and you freeze, staring at it. It lunges and you gasp and roll out of the way. You manage to avoid the brunt of the attack, but the claws of one paw still find your arm. They rake fown your arm, from you elbow to your wrist. It doesn’t hurt, you’re too pumped full of adrenaline for that. You take off running as fast as you can. The streets are full of wolves, everywhere. Where did they come from? Did they escape from the wolf city? You don’t see Jr or Sam anywhere. You round a corner, only to see another wave of wolves. They’re all fighting among themselves. Your mind wanders back to Jr, ‘That’s my pack…’ You stumble over to a building, pressing yourself against a wall. ‘There’s a pack of wolves in my city…. No… There’s more than one pack of wolves, there’s at least two, fighting, right now…’ You try to squeeze into an alley, but two wolves notice you. One lunges, but the other rams into it and glares. You stand frozen, not daring to move. After a moment, they turn and run off. You would have cried with relief, if you had had time. But right now you have to get out of here. You have to get home. You turn and warmth splatters across your face. It burns. You wipe at it desperately, squinting around to find what it’s from. Right in front of you, there’s a wolf being ripped to shreds. You stumble back, nausea taking you. You collapse by the building and look down. Your eyes find your bloody arm, then fall to your wrist. Your bracelet… Your charm... Your protection... It’s gone. You gasp and wipe desperately at your face, “Jr? Jr! Jr!” Fear grips you as everything swims. No… This can’t happen to you… You can’t be exposed to this kind of magic, not without your charm… You finally find Sam. He’s crouched against the wall, a wolf with bright blue eyes is guarding him. You assume that’s Jr. You call out for him again, but your voice is weak. You have to get out of here. You have to find your bracelet. You try and get up, but fall again. Why is this happening to you? You can’t die… Your mom needs you… Jr needs you… You crawl towards Jr. A wolf rams into you, slamming you against ground. You groan. The wolf is heavy, and not moving. You’re too weak to push it off. ‘Isn’t he supposed to notice me? Isn’t he supposed to come save me? Why isn't he coming?’ You stare at him from the ground. He’s guarding his brother with everything he has, not letting anyone even close to him. He doesn’t even glance in your direction. And then you realise… No… He’s not supposed to notice you. He was never supposed to protect you. You aren’t the main character. This isn’t your story. This is there’s… You were always just a side character... Your eyes slowly close and you breathe out for the last time...

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The next day Boston told his psychologist that he had been trying to commit suicide and that he didn’t know why. The session lasted an hour and he answered all the questions with lies, making it sound like he had done everything to himself. When the psychologist pointed out that he had said the exact opposite before, Boston responded with, “I don’t want my parents to know. This IS confidential right?”

    When Boston was sixteen, his parents decided to move. They told him that they were hoping a change in scenery would help him. There was a very good psychologist out around where they were moving. He could start a new life and live happily. Boston flat out refused to move. He was sixteen and strong enough that they couldn’t drag him forcefully out of the house. The only thing they would be able to do would be to call the authorities. At that thought, he ran to his room, confiding in the maid. When she heard the news, she immediately burst into tears. She didn’t want to be alone. Boston was her only friend, the only one that would pay any attention to her. They had grown close. How could he leave her? Boston reassured her that he wasn’t going anywhere. They would come up with something. That night was a restless one.