In The Morning

Before Morning

"Any reason you have a bunch of knives on your dresser?"

"Some collect marbles and snowglobes. I collect protection. And what might you collect- bruises?"
_

Chapter 1

     The kid looked like he hadn't seen sunlight in years, and maybe he hadn't; they didn't know- or care, for that matter.
     His first name was Narvi. His last name was now theirs. Black hair reached his shoulders in soft waves, much like Ryver's own father's. He had round, innocently traumatized eyes, and Ryver almost laughed at how wide they were at the moment.

     His fear- while not misplaced- was almost surprising, considering all that he had apparently been through.

     Narvi clutched at his suitcase as he turned his head to eye Ryver almost suspiciously. They chuckled,  lifted a hand, and wiggled their fingers at the boy. He gripped the case tighter and sharply turned his head away.
      Ryver averted their eyes just after he did; looking at him made their stomach burn and their chest tighten. They clenched their fist and swallowed down something that felt suspiciously like tears.
     Ryver's father was too busy filling out the paperwork to notice.

-
     The ride home was quiet within the car. Ryver's father was not so fond of blaring the radio, and having it at a low volume made Ryver itch. So they pushed on silently, Ryver leaning against the window; they could feel the rumble of the road beneath them, and they silently wondered how many times they and their father had traversed this road, how many times would they?
     Ryver stared at the concrete rolling by, and they could tell by the patterns of the cracks in the road that they were getting close to their driveway.
   When the car stopped, they imagined closing their eyes and pretending to be asleep and feeling their father gently lift them from the other side of the car, carrying them in and covering them up with a blanket once he got them to bed.
     "Ryver. We're home."
                 I know.
    They unbuckled their seatbelt, slid out of the car, and shut the door. Right. I'm older now. To big to be carried and too old to be coddled.
      Ryver almost flinched when they heard the third car door shut. They refused to look at him, so they rushed past their father and stood at the door while they waited for him to come up with the keys. When he did, the kid was trailing behind him, still clutching the damn suitcase like it was a lifeline. Ryver couldn't see how it could be considering how the latches were bent and rusted and how the leather was stained and torn like the thing had been used as the surface for a spill test in one of those Lysol commercials.
     Ryver heard the lock click and his father opened the door for them, as usual; only now, another person was following them in
                                 and it wasn't right.