Seesa
4 months ago
My parents don't remember me.
It happened all in one day. I was their little boy, mom's favorite person to cook for, and dad's favorite person to go on walks with. Mom knew I loved playing outside and eat pasta. Dad knew exactly how many freckles danced on my nose and he knew to leave the hallway light on when I went to bed.
And then, that all disappeared. I was ten years years old. I was a late bloomer so I was tinier than the rest at school. I tried to hold hands with a friend of mine when we crossed the street. He led me home and kissed me on the cheek before running home. I blushed and held my books close to my chest, excitement biting my lower lip.
When I walked inside to tell mom and dad about my new crush, my first crush, this great first of my life, I noticed dad sitting on the couch reading a newspaper. He didn't stand to greet me or even look up at me. Mom walked down the stairs and when I smiled at her, she cocked her head to the side, as if she was staring at a stranger.
"Are you lost, sweetie?" She asked and I frowned, not understanding. She called my father in and he walked over. Rather than pat my head and pick me up he gave me that same unknowing look, that look so void of anything but confusion.
I started crying. I ran up to my room and found that my bed wasn't my bed anymore and none of my toys were there. I hugged mom around the waist and cried, begging her to recognize me, but she didn't. My dad pulled me off of her and they said they'd help me home. When I became hysterical, they thought about calling the police to find my parents.
I didn't know what else to do so I ran. I ran out of the house and ran until I couldn't anymore. I ended up in another part of town. My school wasn't far, but I was too scared to go inside. I walked until morning in the street and then went to school again. My teachers asked why I was so tired. I lied and said I was living at my aunt's house for a while. She died two years before so the excuse worked until it didn't.
My friend who held my hand and kissed my cheek didn't speak to me anymore because I looked so disheveled. I think he was scared something was going on and when you're ten, you don't really know how to act on empathy.
I tried to go home so many times. At one point, there was a police car waiting outside mom and dad's house. That was the day I knew they'd never remember me no matter how many times I showed up. I wandered the street for the better part of a month. I was so hungry. I only ate at school until I stopped going. One evening it was so cold that I thought I might die.
A man with a beard showed up and said he'd help me. He asked where my parents were and if I was hungry or thirsty. He offered me water and told me he lived just around the corner if I followed him. I was always too trusting so I went where he told me. I was too tired and hungry and thirsty and cold to argue anyways.
"Hey, Santa Claus."
I turned around and so did the man to a voice not far down the path. A boy who couldn't be much older than me stood on the sidewalk, his breath made of steam, a red glow tinting his eyes, gray hair moved by the setting sun's breeze. He was tall for his age, although I didn't know that at the time, skinny but filling out, full of a kind of confidence I could only imagine.
He tilted his head forward, a menacing, predatorial color ruminating on his face. The man holding my hand stuttered over his breath.
"Remember me?" The boy smiled, his canine showing.
"It's not what it looks like." The man holding my hand squeezed and I cringed.
"No? Cause I heard you talking to him in that alley. You should really change up your script once in a while."
