Give Me That Body (Oneshots)

Iovita (February 5th, 2014) - Shade

"Why are you crying, pretty little boy in a wig?"

The child looked up from whatever was interesting on the floor. His visible hand, the right one, tightened into a fist on the armrest of his chair. "Who are you? I've never seen you before. What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to see the doctor. Why've you got a wig on?"

"Where are you from? You have an accent," he said, hand still tensed. 

I noted his large almond eyes, and how watchful he was, and how he hid his other hand. A knife? "Brighton," I said. 

"This is not a wig. This is my hair," he said, voice vacant and aloof. He looked like a doe-eyed John Singer Sargent painting, playing at being relaxed in the carriage chair.

"How old are you?"

"Five years old," he said, holding up his hand weakly, five fingers.

"You're a liar. Let me touch your hair. I see a lacefront."

At that a small smile snuck onto his lips, and he declined his head, so that I could touch his hair. I did, and it was soft, and thick, and his. "What do you do with it?"

"Nothing."

"What do you like to do? Sit in hallways?"

He wiped his nose with the back of his exposed hand and pushed his hair back, shooing away the memory of my touch. I relaxed against the wall and found a cigarette in my sweater pocket. "Let us have one," he said, and I lit it for him. "What did you do to your arm?" he asked.

"This?" I asked, gesturing to my dislocated shoulder. "Disagreement with a friend."

"Such a friend," he said, leaning his head back and holding the smoke in. 

"He was right."

"You seem old to me. He must be older, to do that," he said, blowing the smoke out of his nose like a little dragon.

"How do you know that, like?" 

He smiled again, not looking at me, "We both of us have secrets," he said. "You are wearing a sweater. It's not so cool, is it? And you're not so hot, are you?"

"All right." I thought of Nonus, who had fawned over my arm after pulling it out of joint. "You shouldn't have held onto my box, no," he had said, "no, no," but hadn't apologized. Sweet mad confection. 

"Older than you?"

"The same age but with less to lose. Well, if you discount what I was holding when he pulled my arm out of joint."

"Which was?"

"Most of his friend."

The child's brows lifted, but he didn't say anything, ashing the cigarette on the chair arm. 

"And?" I asked.

"I like you, you're violent," he said, not looking at me.

"Here for the doctor?"

"Maybe," he said, drawing one leg up under himself and sitting up straighter. I knew he could hear what I could hear, which was the sound of feet approaching the other side of the doctor's shut door. 

"For what?"

"Maybe I was trying to catch a bird."

And then the door opened, and there was a tall blond holding a pair of tall heels, with a sleepy face. The blond wiped his little red mouth, glancing at me without seeing me at all, and there was the doctor behind him, cleaning his hands on a white rag.

"I'm first," the child said, loudly.

I watched the doctor close the distance between them, and the child produce his hidden hand. The doctor clucked, shook his pretty head. When he did that, I could see the bite he was trying to hide under his starched collar. I saw it plainly. The blond was going away, hands pressed against the wall for purchase, as if he were blind. "Leis, you do like I told you or you'll just get worse," the doctor called after him, which earned a shudder. "What have you done here?" he asked.

The child said nothing, letting the doctor turn his wrist over and over, examining the broken fingers. 

"Nicky."

"I was only saying 'hallo' and then Mini did it."

Clucking. 

When they went in the room, I sat in the chair, and when I pressed the remainder of the child's cigarette to my lips to finish it, it tasted of the aroma of blood.