Lost Boy

I’m not sure if it’s my mom or Jack’s crying. Their pleas become muffled when Jack wraps his other arm around my head, blocking my ears.

The mattress pushes down above us as we cower beneath the bed.

Mama, mama, mama.

Wake up.

Fear is overwhelming me, my head feels dizzy. I want to run away and for this to be just a game. Marco…Polo…

But it’s not. I know what this monster who invaded our happy day is doing to her on the bed we’re sheltered beneath.

Jack’s voice sounds in my ear as the heat of his body shifts.

“It’s going to be okay, Liz Wiz.” I latch my finger with his in a pinky promise.

“Where is he!” the man roars, making my stomach twist. The gurgling sounds cause my head to swim. The room is darkening, the rain from outside now pouring inside, covering the carpet in red liquid.

You’re dreaming.

“Mama?” Jack cries out, and the room falls silent.

The bed creaks with movement before two dirty black boots thud to the floor.

Whoosh!

My hand reaches out for Jack’s as he’s pulled from my grasp, his body sliding away from me. “Noooo!” we both cry out as he’s yanked from beneath the bed. Our eyes hold each other’s gaze.

The earth shakes the foundations of my world.

His startled eyes begin to tear up.

“Jack!” I mime reaching out, willing my hands to go further…but he’s gone.

Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!

A gasp escapes me, jolting me from sleep. My eyes struggle to open. I will my erratically beating heart to calm inside my chest, the dream fever still holding me hostage in its suffocating grip. “In, out. In, out. In, out,” I coach myself, sucking air into my restricted lungs.

Swiping my hand over my head, I wipe the sweat dripping from my brow. My eyes peek open, and I try to focus. When the world floods in, I wish I could shut it all out again.

I have a love-hate relationship with my dreams of Jack. It’s been so long, I’m not even sure which parts of the memory are real anymore, or what’s been embellished from the nights spent thinking of different outcomes.

Wasted thoughts. Wasted life.

Knowing Jack, being his friend, became the catalyst of my entire life.

Thoughts of him wash through my mind like the tide receding after a hurricane, exposing debris and chaos in its wake. Shards of my world float around, damaged, unrecognizable, the destruction everlasting on my soul.

Reality hits me full force with the sun beaming through the drape-less window, heating my already warm room. I almost wished the memories of my lost boy would fade into nothing, dissipate with time, but he clings on, haunting me, and I seek those dreams out because, as painful as the idea of what happened to him is, the hurt reminds me he was real—is real.

If I feel him, he lives. Right?

Shrilling sounds from my cellphone, almost catapulting me across the room in fright. Kicking back the duvet, I jump up from the bed, which is just a mattress on the floor of my tiny bedroom in a rundown apartment I share with my best friend, Charlotte.

My thoughts jumbled, still doused with sleep, my feet falter. The duvet gathers and restricts my legs, tangling me up like vines and propelling me forward face first.

“Dammit!”

I land with an unattractive thud, hitting the floor in a clump of too-long limbs and a mop of messy auburn hair.

The ringing on my cell gets louder, filling the crappy apartment.

Pushing the duvet from my feet, I pat the side of the mattress, then spot it sitting on the box stuffed with junk I never unpacked and now use as a bedside table.

“Hello?” I croak into the receiver, pulling the lid from my keepsake tin, sifting through the news clippings.

Notorious serial killer is now wanted in connection with the disappearance of school…“Hello, sweetie. I didn’t wake you, did I?” my aunt’s too chirpy voice greets me.

You’re safe now. You can come out.

“No. I’m up,” I tell her, slamming the lid closed and running a hand through my hair.

“I just wanted to check in on you,” she murmurs, hesitant.

Keep your eyes closed, sweetheart. Don’t look.

“I’m fine.” I’m fine. I’m fine…

“Okay…well, we’re here for you if you need anything. I know this day is a tough one. There’s no shame in taking time for yourself.”

Silence…

“We have potential buyers coming to view the house today,” she says, changing the subject.

“That’s great.” I try to make my voice sound happy for them. I am happy for them.

“We love you, sweetie.”

I know she loves me, and I’m grateful for everything she’s done for me, but you can’t erase trauma no matter how many pancakes and trips to the zoo you force on a child.

“You too. Bye,” I whisper.

It’s just another day.

No, it’s not. It’s the day the devil visited you and took everything.