BROWN SKIN | BOOK 1

|| C H A P T E R . 26 || PART V

Caution: sexual interactions and someone did comment on fixing the internal dialogue and I believe she also meant the "point of views." KEY: The shift in point of views to second person -those are hella significant and will be revealed towards the end of the book as to WHY, WHAT, HUH? then you'll have an ah-ha moment. My challenge is to really work on suspense in this novel.

His eyes were fixated into space again, bypassing from the world of reality. It happened for the second time. He did this in the car and I was hoping Beau would seek medical attention by now. Nothing around him mattered and he was cooped up in his own place that sunk realism. Both good and bad, the fantasy world was deluding and dominating what he really needs to focus on.

One of the young ones ran over to him, not even realizing Beau was so blocked out of his mental state, jumped on the couch with his legs flying in the air after he plopped down. A cigarette flopped around his mouth and he smiled excitedly at Beau with cards in his hand.

"I, uh, get-ting better, ya'?" The boy asked in a shrill voice.

Beau turned his head towards him and took the dangerous cigarette that had no control in the boy's mouth, lighting it out. The butt of the white stick was smushed into the ashes in the tray, squeezing out the small ringlet light that glowed.

"Let's see, hm?" Beau took the flashcards out of his hand and demonstrated one of them out in front of him so it was visible for the boy. It was a simple gray ink picture of a plate.

"Deesh." The boy answered with a sense of confidence.

"Dish." Beau corrected, "or Plate."

He flipped to another image that depicted an animal.

"El-ella-phy-ant."

"Cah-ray-mellll."

"Camel."

"Caramel."

Beau grinned and stifly chuckled, but it soon faded when the guy with body scars headed out of the kitchen and directed a route towards the couch where they were. Beau pretended like he didn't see the guy from the corner of his eye and shuffled the cards twice more, holding up a particular drawing of his liking with a straight face.

The boy's pupils shifted over the card carefully, picking up the colors and illustration of the image so the mental picture can click in his mind what it must be. Beau pressed his lips together and contained some patience for him as he studied the English language.

"Snake."

Beau really smiled this time, "That's good."

The boy shimmied around in the cushion having a glimmering light brighter in his eye from Beau's small praise. He looked up at Scar Face and exchanged a few words in his native language with enthusiasm. Scar Face ignored him and glared at the back of Beau's head with veins popping out closed fists. Beau never turned around and played with the fabric of the armrest with his fingers, staring straight ahead. A couple of words were said, very blunt and direct, Scar Face sending a cutting blade grimace down at Beau. Beau eventually got up from the couch casually while the little boy glanced up at him with worry.

Beau eased his puzzlement by ruffling the boy's hair with miserable fingers and a sad smile that meant something more. He heading over to the kitchen where the older ones, young adults were.

Without Scar Face, Beau headed over to the small interior kitchen, limping but trying to keep a posture a wounded warrior couldn't carry. He leaned his body over the counter, his cuts, and muscles prominent under the light above. A different guy chose to stand on the opposite side of the furniture, digging his back into the sink. He had to be two years younger than Beau, sporting a slim figure after boys reached a peak in puberty. A dirty bandage wrapped around his wrist, mummy-style. His body build was much smaller than the others, his face gestured a more lax and subtle expression than the aggressiveness the rest had. They started whispering at first until Beau surprisingly switched to English.