The Refuge

Drawings

Crutchie is still asleep, he wakes up every few hours to drink water and eat a little something before he falls back asleep. I sit in my room at my desk starting on a political cartoon. I need to have it done by noon. Briskly I glance at the clock. 11:45 shit...I'm no where near done. It had taken me an hour and a half to come up with a good illustration and even longer to draw it. I rush to finish it trying my hardest to keep the lines neat. When I finish I smile and glance up. Crutchie is sat up in the bed a blanket wrapped around his small frame.
"Look who's finally awake." I laugh testing the waters. He looks over and smiles, his hair is very messy and his cheeks are blushed. "Hey I hafta run to the office and get this into Pulitzer okay? I'll be back in a few minutes."
"Alright Jack." He says a yawn breaking his words.
"The crutch is next ta' the bed. But don't you goes walking about too much." I say grabbing my jacket off of the coat hanger. "You's wait here until I get back." With that I dashed out of the house and down the street.
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I watched Jack through the bedroom window as he sprinted down the street pushing past people. A laugh rose in my throat and was followed by a cough. Cold air leaked through the window causing me to shiver. At least it's warmer in here. I think to myself fiddling with the covers. I swing my leg over the side of the bed and carefully move my other one after. My hands grip the crutch, the only thing that has helped me stay alive. I put my weight on my good leg and use it for support. I needed to take a bath. Clean myself up a bit. Slowly I make my way to the bathroom. It's small but still has a simple shower. I undress my upper have with ease but struggle to get my pants off with out hurting my leg. I get in the shower and start to quickly wash myself. I hear the door creak open and shut.
"Jack?" I call out, there's a brief pause before he answers.
"Hey Crutchie, I told ya not to be movin' around too much! Do ya need help?" He calls.
"No Jack I'm fine." He walks down the hall and stops at the door.
"I'll get you some clean clothes. Davey is comin' over later ta see you's." He adds leaving the room. I wash my hair with the bar of soap along with my body. It takes a few minutes but I finally get all of the dirt and grime off of me. "Hey don't use up all the hot water!" Jack yells as I turn it off.
"Uh Jack! Do you have a towel!" I ask. He walks into the room and moves the shower curtain aside a bit handing me a small towel.
"It's all I got." I say thank you and dry myself off. New clothes are waiting for me. I get into them slowly and look at myself in the mirror. My face is thin my bones more noticeable. Heavy bags rest under my eyes and nose is red as well as my cheeks. Jack knocks on the door frame. "Come on why don't you eat a little somethin'." He says with a smile. I smiles back a bit and he helps me into the other room. We sit in rickety chairs and eat what ever the hell jack made.
"Jack, thank you so much but I do hafta say you's a rotten cook." I laugh and he sticks his tongue out at me.
"This here is an old family recipe! It's called mush. It's made outta what ever I find and trust me this is the best I've ever made."
"Oh god." I mutter with a sigh. We finish eating and Jack starts to work on another drawing. "What are you drawing?" I ask looking at him. He glances up at me.
"Nothin'." He replies. I lean up trying to see his sketch, when theres a knock at the door. Jack is quickly on his feet and opens the door. "Davey!" He says with a smile pulling him into a hug.
"Hey Jack, Crutchie how are you feeling?" Davey asks looking at me.
"I've been better but I'm doing fine." I smile. He is taken aback by how I look I can see it in his eyes as he glances over me.
"Jack told me you're sick." I shrug.
"I've been worse." He sighs and walks up to me placing a hand on my forehead.
"You have a fever." He says looking me over again. "You should really lay down Crutch." Davey puts his hand on my shoulder. Jack helps me stand and walk into the bedroom. Davey watches us a sad look on his face, no not sad almost longing. Jack lays me down and tucks me in opening the window.
"This should keep ya cool." I smile at him.
"Thanks Jack...what were you drawing?" I ask he is taken aback for a second.
"I ain't drawing nothing Crutchie." I look at his sternly.
"Jack please?" I chime again looking at him. He sighs and grabs his sketchbook showing me the half finished drawing. I'm staring back at myself one half of my face looking normal, the other half is skinny and bruised. I look at him. "Why would you draw this...?" I ask him. He looks nervous.
"It's gonna be an art piece, imma try to get it in a museum or somethin'" I blush a bit not knowing weather it's from anger of flattery.
"That's personal Jack, I don't want people ta see me like that." I counter. He takes my hand.
"If I get this in the pape so many people'll see it! It'll show people what the street can do to a kid Crutch!" I turn away from him.
"Fine..." I mutter as I cough into my sleeve. Davey calls Jack out of the room and he shuts the door as he leaves. I don't think Jack really understands how pathetic I feel.