Behavioural Tutor

5 // Home

The afternoon lessons happened a lot like the morning ones did. Tommy pretended to listen, although really he was just doodling small bits of pieces, and writing down a bunch of random words that just popped into his brain. Phil seemed to be content with that, so Tommy got away with it.

At 4:30 on the dot, the final bell rang, signalling it was time to go home. Tommy rushed out of his chair (allowing it to fall to the ground in the process) and ran to the school gates.

"Phil you can stop following me now. It's after school, and now..." Tommy broke into a small jog, before stopping and turning around to face Phil, "I'm out of school property!"

Phil was about to protest, but stopped himself. Technically he could still follow Tommy to his house, and was not limited to school, but this was the happiest he had seen the boy all day, and he didn't want to ruin his moment.

"Aright then Tommy, walk safe!" Phil turned and walked away, waving over his shoulder before he passed out of view.

Walk safe. What a stupid thing to say. Tommy scoffed and walked home.

He looked at all the nice houses, the nice cars, the nice neighbourhoods and the nice families. Tommy wondered what it would be like to live the life of one of there people with all their nice things. It would be so much easier he thought.

About ten minutes later he walked away from the nice housing and towards a smaller neighbourhood. It looked a lot more rundown, dirty and crime ridden. Still, home was home.

Tommy walked for about two more minutes before finding himself opposite the familiar building he knew as home. It was mostly bricks, but had a leaky wooden roof. The windows were filthy and slightly wonky, along with the door, which seemed to stick out from the frame.

Hesitantly, Tommy reached for his keys, and twisted the slightly wobbly handle. As soon as the door opened, the air reeked of alcohol. Tommy hesitantly stepped inside, before closing the door behind him.

After checking no one was home, he rushed upstairs to his make-shift bedroom (loft) and carefully closed the door behind him, being careful not to make any more sound than what was necessary.

He was glad no one was home. Really glad. Tommy laid on his uncomfortable mattress and stared up at the leaky roof. There were three buckets around the loft collecting the occasional drip of water. There was a small bedside containing a very limited amount of clothes; not enough to live off of. That was it.

The lost itself was definitely on the small side. However, you couldn't stand directly on the floor without falling right through it, so 90% of the floor space was completely unusable. There were a couple wooden beams Tommy would walk across to get to his mattress and bedside table. That, and whatever was in his school bag, were the only things Tommy owned in his life. The boy didn't even have a blanket.

Still: home was home. He couldn't help it if his Dad didn't have enough money to buy luxurious add-ones that weren't necessary. At least, that's what he had told himself.

Tommy wriggled out of his bag's straps. It was just a simple back backpack, it did its job. He placed it on top of his bedside table.

He could tell it was getting dark from a small, circular window on the opposite side of the room. It was a whole obstacle course just to get to it. There were no lights in the room, so once it was dark, that was that.

Tommy decided he had nothing better to do than to watch the sunset, so that's exactly what he did. Tommy nimbly hoped from one beam to the next, careful not to fall, or make a sound (which was hard when jumping over two of the three water buckets while balancing on a thin piece of wood). Once he made it over, he sat on the rim, and leaned back against the curve of the circle. Tommy walked his legs up the other side, getting into the comfiest position he could, while sitting on a hard windowsill.

This is nice, he thought.

Tommy sat there until the final tint of orange left the now black sky. Pretty. Very pretty.

After what felt like a eternity, Tommy decided it was best to attempt to get some sleep. He hopped off of the window, and carefully walked towards his bed.

When he was about two thirds of the way there, Tommy tripped and fell. He flailed his arms around desperately trying to grab something, before landing an arm on a small wooden ledge. Tommy managed to pull himself up, but not before one of his legs  fell through the floor.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. Okay I'm screwed.

Tommy limped back to his mattress, to examine the damage. Both his leg, and arm were cut, and bleeding, but that wasn't what worried him. It was the hole in the floor. What would his dad think!? He was going to be in so much trouble when he finds out.

It was only small, about the size of a small ruler, but it was still a hole. Tommy limped over to it, and put an old, dirty jumper on top as a weak attempt to hide the damage. It was winter, and that was his only jumper, but it was better than having his dad find out.

Sighing, Tommy collapsed onto his bed, and tried to sleep, but he couldn't.

The rest of the night was filled with nightmares and panic attacks about what his dad would say and think. What his dad would do. The jumper clearly wouldn't hide the hole, but it was all be could think of in that moment. It would have to do until he could find a more permanent solution.