Chapter 2: No Place like Home

After walking home and seeing the lights still on, Skye heavily considered sleeping in the adjacent barn. If the light was on it meant Kay was still awake in the house. He didn’t really feel like dealing with her at the moment. In the barn, at least he wouldn’t have to worry about upsetting his aunt. The animals tended to be much more agreeable than his uncle and his wife anyway.

Upon reaching his destination for the night, he opened the large wooden door and snuck inside, accidentally stirring some of the horses from their sleep. Softly he crept in, moving farther toward the hay loft. Climbing the ladder, step by step, Skye reached to the side at the summit so as to lift himself to the top. Where his hand should have felt only wood and hay, it grazed something strange. Moving slightly out of the way of the object, he hefted himself up and found his uncle sleeping there with an almost drained bottle of cheep wine in his hand. He was a little surprised.

“Kay probably sent him up here so that he wouldn’t destroy anything in the house…” he thought to himself ironically. Was it just a coincidence that they were always right where he’d run into them?

He should have probably left at this point. His uncle was known to be violent after drinking, but Skye simply sat there thinking for awhile, against his better judgment. He’d never witnessed anyone else sleeping before. He’d always fallen asleep before his mom had. He wondered how peaceful she’d look. He sighed.

“Mother…” How he wished she were here now. His aunt and uncle always tried to distance themselves from him…Like he was something gone horribly wrong. He’d heard Kay confiding in her friends how burdensome and abnormal Skye was compared to other children. They’d discussed so many hateful lies about how he was or how his mother must have raised him after becoming fueled by Kay’s petty complaints. In this way as word spread, like meaningless chatter often does among ladies, he was avoided by almost everyone- if only for his aunt’s spiteful remarks. Why did it have to be that way? Couldn’t anyone just learn for themselves what he was like instead of drinking up those calloused rumors? People could be so stupid sometimes….

Sitting there he started drifting back asleep, having forgotten for a moment how tired he actually was. The dreams slowly came to him again. The glorious party in his mind was his only reprieve from reality. Why couldn’t all people be as accepting and open as those he met in his dreams? He never knew their faces in his dream world, but he knew that all of them were beautiful as individuals in his mind. Twirling blurs in the joy of the dance, soft murmurs of conversation, gracefully executed music, and glimpses of smiles were everywhere, all covered by a feeling of floating. Everything could seem so real and yet purely imagined at the same time. Skye wished he could see that one person at least once though….

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Something jarred him suddenly awake. He regained his focus to find his uncle’s blood shot eyes raging at him. He tried to back away quickly, but felt the relentless jerk of his head as Torn rooted his fingers in his hair.

“What are you doing here, you little bastard?!” Hissed the boy’s uncle with the smell of alcohol strongly on his breath.

Skye resisted the urge to try and ease the pain by bringing his hands to his hair, now drawn tight. It would only make Torn more infuriated. He had learned this from past experiences…

“Don’t you dare start crying, boy,” Torn shouted. “I’m not going to waste my water on you if that’s all you’re good for!”

Skye whimpered a little as his uncle flung him to the side.

“I came in here so I wouldn’t bother you. I didn’t know you’d be here,” Skye mumbled, holding his arm protectively. He hadn’t been able to help falling on it rather badly just now.

“Just seeing your damn face bother the hell out of me, you brat! Why do we even keep you here?! You never do anything! And you always run of to only gods know where…” His uncle yelled at him while moving in menacingly. Skye did his best to keep some distance between them. He knew there was no way for him to beat his uncle if he chose to attack him. He’d wind up a bloody mess if he was still alive, and he knew he’d be the only one doing the bandaging afterwards. He almost panicked when his back touched the wall. No where left to go…

“Get out of my sight, boy!!” Torn threw the half empty bottle in his hand at the wall. It shattered less than two feet away from where Skye sat wide-eyed. Red liquid splashed into is face. Seeing a chance to get away and not wanting to know if it was just because of bad, drunken aim that he wasn’t unconscious now, he staggeringly climbed over the side of the hayloft and grabbed hold of the chain lift. He didn’t dare move past Torn to get to the ladder.

Wincing a little as pain shot through his arm, he fell into a patch of hay below where the horses were kept. The horses reared, startled by his fall. Skye backed to the wooden gate, still on the ground trying hard not to get trampled.

“Get out of here, boy!” Torn roared from above.

Shaken, Skye rolled under the gate and while stumbling to his feet, ran as quickly as possible out of the barn.

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And so for chapter two….

I feel really bad about the cursing words…but that’s the kind of person Skye’s uncle is. Gomen-ne if it offends anyone. Hope to see you in chapter 3!