the broken

Chapter 8

JANUARY, 2009

Phil

Unfortunately, life is not simple, and dry clothes and warm food can't actually fix everything, or really anything, if I think about it in my more frustrated moments. In the week it had been since I'd brought Dan home, life has become increasingly more stressful, with Jamie in a constant sour mood for reasons he refuses to talk about, and Dan no better than a week ago. Every time I go in to check on him, he is sprawled on the bed, looking so dead that I have to get nearer just to make sure he's breathing.

He'd developed a rather nasty cough, but whenever I try to carefully bring up getting medical help, he'd push me away, claiming that he felt fine and I didn't need to worry about him, and then would proceed to not talk to me for hours, undoing the process we had made.

We'd had a talk about things.

I had been sitting on the couch when Dan had teetered into the room, looking unsteady and uncertain. He had sat on the couch across from me, playing with the edges of my sweater as he apologized, explained.

There weren't many details: anytime he brought his stepfather up, he became so panicked that I backed off the topic altogether. However, despite the small amount of information he was able to share, I managed to gather the general gist of his situation at home, and that was all I needed to make the decision that he would be staying here from now on. He protested strongly, not wanting to intrude, I told him he was being absolutely stupid if he thought I'd knowingly let him go back to that place, he gave in, and we permanently dubbed the spare room his. I'd found his schools number online and called, pretending to be his father, and told the school that we'd moved to a new location, giving them my address and phone number and notifying them that he'd be missing school this week as he'd be helping move. This was a weight off both of our shoulders, knowing he wouldn't be going back to that house, but despite this, progress still crawled at an incredibly slow rate.

Once an understanding of his past was reached between us, he was visibly more comfortable with me, and although conversations were often more one sided, I could tell he genuinely wanted to talk to me, even if he didn't know how to have a normal conversation, or friendship.

I was starting to understand him more, starting to pry him out of his shell, and although it was tiring, seeing his eyes light up made it worth it a hundred times over.

I heave a great sigh before pulling myself out of bed, my thoughts already taking an alarmingly stressed turn despite the fact I'd woken up all but a minute ago. I jump into the shower and let the stress melt off my shoulders. By the time I've finished, I am significantly more ready to face the day, and I walk downstairs into the kitchen, heading to the fridge to get out some stuff to make breakfast for Dan, as he doesn't seem to have grasped the concept of needing to eat to survive. Every time I bring him food, he always looks surprised, eyes wide as he accepts whatever I give him, as if the thought of eating simply hadn't crossed his mind.

Jamie slumps into the kitchen a minute later, looking tired and grumpy.

"Hey."

He looks up and his expression seems to relax a bit.

"Morning, Phil."

"I'm making Dan some breakfast, want some too?"

A sour look crosses his face, but he smiles nonetheless and agrees to my offer.

A couple minutes later, breakfast is finished, and I've scooped food onto a plate for Dan. I head down the hall to Dan's room and push the door open quietly in case he's sleeping. He isn't.

"Morning Dan, sleep well?" I ask softly, crossing the room to hand him the plate of food.

"Mmm, yeah."