August 24th- Book One in the May 3rd series

Chapter 14- y a h

Warnings ⚠: Child Abuse, Rape, Violence, Religion, Drug Use, Alcohol Use, Use of Slurs, Homophobia, Bullying, Mention of Suicide, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicidal Actions, Gun Use

Josiah's P.O.V.
-Monday, September 13th-

As soon as school is over, I go outside to wait. I wouldn't mind making a habit out of this.
Whenever I wasn't in class, I was texting Damien. And he texted me during class sometimes, so I made sure to yell at him. 
He told me he did a pretty good job on his quiz, and that we would talk about it after school.
This whole having a friend thing is nice. We talked all weekend. It made being cooped up in a corner much more...okay.
I don't know. It's weird to think about.
Something about being able to talk to him made everything feel less like a punishment.
It's not good. Maybe I should stop talking to him when I'm in trouble...
No.
I don't want to.
"Hey, nerd. You ready to go? I was thinking pizza for dinner." Damien snaps me out of my thoughts.
"Pizza?" I repeat softly.
"Yep. It's really good, and I want a treat 'cause I got a good grade!"
"I don't know what that is. What grade did you get?" I ask him.
"I got a B+!"
"Are you kidding? I told you! You did great. Just like I said. I knew I was right." I smile at him.
"High five?"
I hold my hand up for the high five and he does as he's supposed to.
It's still cute. I don't know why.
"That's so cute." I murmur.
"...What?"
"You high fiving. It's so cute." I explain.
"...Thanks?"
"You don't think cute is a compliment? Cute is a compliment. It's a really good thing."
"I'm not cute. I'm scary." He claims.
"I know you are. But, still cute. Which, again, is a good thing. There's no greater compliment than being called cute." I insist.
"I don't think so... You ready to get outta here?"
I was about to mention how much fun it is to make him stand here and just listen to me ramble about bullshit...
"But what's pizza?" I ask first.
"Cheese and bread. You'll like it. Let's go."
"Okay. Hey, what are we going to do if we try something and I'm allergic to it? And I die?" I start following him.
"Guess I'd kill myself."
"WHY?"
"'Cause."
I hate him.
"I hate you."
"Cool. Same."
AH.
I give up.
"Josiah," A voice starts, and I stop in place, "Hey, why don't I just drive you home tonight?"
Alexa...
She comes up to us, with Avery following in tow.
"No way. You'll spend the whole ride yelling at me." I refuse.
"So? Why are you bothering Damien with it? He doesn't live anywhere near us."
That's also true...
"Damien..." I mumble.
"He's helping me study tonight. I'll bring him home after. It's no big deal." He says.
"Why are you having him help you? He's not that smart." Avery remarks.
"Yes, I am." I tell her.
"You're not. What? You think you're a genius now?"
I back off a bit, pretty much gravitating closer to Damien.
"He is a genius. See you guys...hopefully never." He turns away, "Let's go, Walker."
"I don't think I can." I mumble.
I can't see them. But I'm pretty sure Alexa and Avery are glaring daggers at me.
"Do you realize what would happen if we told Aunt Dahlia about all of this?" Alexa points out to me.
I knew I shouldn't have told them anything. They know too much.
"Y-Yeah..."
He comes back, going up to her. "You're not telling her shit," He threatens, "We're not doing anything wrong. Besides, why the fuck would you care?" He asks Alexa.
"Don't act like you don't know that you two are breaking all the rules he's been given. Aunt Dahlia would be pissed. I don't even want to imagine what she would do to him if she knew. That's why he should just come home." She says.
"Don't tell her then. Your rules are bullshit and fucking hypocritical as hell. Why are you allowed to go out and party and fuck anything that walks but he can't go study?"
"Because my dad wasn't ever like his." She responds sharply, "I didn't make the rules. I just enforce them."
"We have to take responsibility for him." Avery adds.
"I don't want to go home." I mutter.
Alexa goes to grab me and I immediately step behind Damien.
He makes this sort of stuff a lot easier. Shame I can't take him home with me.
"Don't fucking touch him." He warns.
"Do you want him to get in trouble?" She asks.
"No. But, he doesn't want to go with you. He can make his own choices. If he wants to risk it, he can."
Damien turns and looks over at me. "What do you want to do, Josiah?" He asks softly.
"M-My aunt, Damien... I don't want to be punished. I don't want to go home." I don't know what I want.
"I'm leaving. If you want to go with him and just deal with whatever the consequences are, then alright." She shakes her keys a bit.
"Damien. Keep me with you. Please." I wince.
"Okay."
"Bye, then. Whatever happens later, just remember that you asked for it." Alexa says, waiting a second before grabbing Avery's wrist and leaving.
I turn to Damien immediately. "What are they going to do to me? I messed up. I knew I was being bad."
"I don't know." He sounds...scared.
"What if Aunt Dahlia kills me? This isn't safe. I'm not going to be safe." I pull on my sleeves.
Damn it. What's wrong with me?!
"Hey. Calm down, okay? If...If you think she's going to legitimately kill you, call me. I'll be there in five minutes and I'll take you away."
"R-Really?" I shiver, rubbing tears out of my eyes, staring up at him.
"Really. This whole thing is bullshit and you shouldn't have to deal with it."
I try to relax as much as I can.
"We...c-can just celebrate the B+ right n-now. Then worry about it later. Right?" I wish I could stop thinking about it.
"If that's what you want, then yes."
"Thank you..."
When he starts walking again, and I have to follow him, I reach out and grab the back of his jacket. "Hey, Damien..." I begin.
He stops. "Yeah?"
"I-I'm really proud of y-you...for not failing that quiz."
"Thank you. I...couldn't have done it without you."
He says that. But it's not true.
He doesn't need me to pass classes, or to be a friend...
"Yeah. I'm glad we met." I murmur.
"I am, too."
"I don't want to let go of your jacket."
"Then don't. You'll have to, to get in the car, though."
That's rough.
"You make me feel safe." I pry my hand off of him.
I don't know how or why that's how he affects me... He makes me feel more confident, and safer.
"I don't know why. I'm literally what you're supposed to be afraid of." He leads me to the car and stops me outside the passenger door. He opens the door for me and just waits.
"Because you didn't let Alexa hurt me. I know she would have, if you weren't here. That's why I need you." I say.
I stare into the car.
I'm still pissed that he has had a car all this time and never bothered to use it.
"You should get in." Is all he says.
I do as told, getting into the car and immediately strapping on the seatbelt. He shuts the door and the sound makes me wince just a little, but I manage to let it go pretty quickly.
As soon as he gets in, I start making myself relax.
"So..." I sigh, "Where do we get...pizza?"
"The pizza place. Duh. I already ordered it." He smiles as he starts the car.
"I didn't hear your seat belt." I remark.
"Yeah. You didn't." He says, not making any moves to put it on.
I go to tell him that he's going to die, but I remind myself of his response to that.
"Wait. You never wear it? You realize that's illegal, right?"
"Good. Maybe I'll go to jail."
Remind me why I hang out with him...?
"Jail isn't fun."
"I can hang myself with my shoelaces and then die."
"I don't like you saying things like that."
"Like what?"
"About killing yourself. My mom committed suicide when I was little. Please stop saying it."
"Oh. Sorry. I...I'll try not to."
"And put your seat belt on." I add.
I hear a click.
I think we're starting to get used to each other.
...
"So. Pizza." I say softly.
"Yeah, a little less fun now that there's a death threat on you essentially."
"Yeah... Don't worry about that. What's on this pizza?"
"Whatever you want. It's completely customizable. And I can't NOT worry about it."
"Don't say whatever you want. I will say Pop-Tarts, and I'm sure that's not going to happen. And don't worry. It isn't even about you, so you have nothing to worry about."
"I can't not worry about you. In fact, that's 75% the stuff in my brain. Worrying. Not all of it's aimed at you, but a lot of it is."
"What? Why? Why is any worrying aimed at me? And why can't you just stop worrying?" I question.
"Because I care about you...?"
"Why?"
"Because you're my friend."
"Oh. Right. I forgot." I shrug.
"You forgot? Rude." He scoffs.
"I forget everything. Always. Don't take it personally." I tell him.
I always forget everything. True fact.
I'm not lying to him this time.
"Offended."
"Don't be offended!"
"Offence is taken." He laughs.
"What's wrong with you?" I mutter.
I specifically told him multiple times to not take offence to it.
"What isn't wrong with me? You know I can't hide you forever, right?"
"You don't need to. As you said, we can't avoid it forever."
"Right. But this whole thing... Bullshit."
"You've said that before. I don't know why you keep saying it. What's it even supposed to mean?"
He's said it about a thousand times. Every time I talk about my family, he says that.
Bullshit. Always.
"It means it's bullshit."
"That doesn't make sense. It's not bullshit because it's true. It's how it works, and it always has been and always will be like this. I knew that all of this is wrong but I've done it anyway. I knew the consequences. Whatever happens now, happens."
"Well, it shouldn't work that way."
"...That isn't true."
"Nope."
"You're not listening to me."
"You're right. I don't listen when you're spouting bullshit."
"Alright, asshole. Do you want to talk about pizza instead?" I suggest.
"Not really, no. The thing I wanna know is why Alexa is such a bitch. Why does she hate you so much?"
"She doesn't. She's one of the nicer ones. She's just really concerned." I explain.
"She's a nicer one? Oof. I can't imagine your guys' family reunions then."
"Do you want to hear about Thanksgiving four years ago?" I smile at him playfully.
"Um, hell yes. Sounds chaotic as fuck."
"Awesome. I didn't go, so I couldn't tell you. It was at my grandparents' house, and my aunt left me home alone. I tried to cook food but I didn't know how to. That's how I burnt my hand on a stove." I look at my hand for emphasis.
I wonder if it scarred.
"That's alarming."
"Why is that alarming? No one did anything that time."
"This is why I'm never letting you cook anything ever." He parks the car. "I'm going to go in and grab it."
"That's not fair. I was a kid and I didn't know what I was doing. You can't use that against me." I complain as he opens his car door.
"I can use whatever I want against you. I'll be right back, don't do anything stupid." He gets out and shuts the door behind him.
I realize as soon as he shuts the door, that I probably should have gone with him. I don't feel safe or comfortable without him around.
Oh well.
I'll just wait.
Everything is okay.
It feels like decades before he comes back in. I check my phone, and it's been about three minutes since he got out of the car.
"What took so long?" I ask, despite knowing how long it has actually been.
"It's not even been five minutes dude, chill."
"Whatever. Don't leave me again."
"Ever? What about when I have to poop?"
"What? I mean don't leave me out in the car again. Do you realize how easy it is to steal a car? Dumb-ass."
"You won't get stolen. And if you did, they would return you in three minutes because of how annoying you are. Hold the pizza." He says, handing something out to me.
"Return me to who? You?" I ask as I take it. It's hot.
"Probably."
"How would they know how to find you? They don't know you. And I wouldn't be able to find you in a crowd." I persist.
"You just call me, and I'll come get you from the kidnappers. Easy as that."
"Oh. If you're so sure they would return me, why haven't you returned me?"
"To who? The universe? You're stuck with me. It's Damien and Josiah vs. the world now."
"I'm ignoring that. You would return me to my house, dummy."
"Oh."
"So...? What makes you so sure the kidnappers would bring me back to you?"
"I just know these things. Trust me."
"I don't, but okay. When...are you returning me? Tonight, I mean." I set the box onto my lap.
"Whenever you want to be returned...but also before Tuesday night. I'm busy."
"Can I stay with you tonight then?"
"I guess you have to. I haven't had a sleepover since 4th grade."
"Not even with Ethan and Hunter?"
"No. That's gay."
"What does that make this?"
"..." He doesn't respond.
I guess that makes this gay, then. Since he won't argue otherwise.
"Okay. I'm going to complain a lot when you have to bring me home. Just tell me to shut up and I'll stop." I tell him.
"Me telling you to do anything has never worked, so why would it now?"
"Say it aggressively. Like..." I clear my throat dramatically, "Shut up."
Damien bursts out laughing. "Oh my God."
"What? Why are you laughing?" I lean forward a bit to get some sort of better look at his face. For some reason.
"Is that your impression of me or of a threatening tone? Either way, it's hilarious."
"That was me being aggressive. That's how my dad said it. Why is that hilarious? It's true."
"You're the least threatening person I've ever met. It's funny to see you try."
"I'm very threatening. Do you want to see me actually be threatening for real?"
"Of course. Go for it."
I go to say the most aggressive, threatening thing I can think of. Before I can, it makes me think of my father and I stop, trying to think up something Damien would say instead.
"...What's something you say to the kids you beat up?"
"What?"
"When you hurt people. What do you say to them? You know, when you're being aggressive and threatening?"
"I don't usually say much. I just let Ethan do the talking and I just...back him up."
"Oh. What does he usually say? Say it to me and I'll copy you."
"You asked for this? Or you deserve this? Or you know what you did? That sort of shit. It really depends on the mark to be honest."
I guess they're not different, then.
"I can't say those." I murmur.
"Call someone a dickhead then."
"No. S-Stop it. Forget about t-that." I pull my sleeves over my hands and press them against the box.
"Okay... Sorry. You did ask."
"I know. I literally asked for it. Just don't s-say it."
"Okay. Sorry." He apologizes again.
He says that too much. I don't know what he thinks he has to apologize to me for.
"I'm really not threatening at all...?" I try to lighten it up a bit.
"No more than an angry puppy. If anything, it's just cute."
"Angry dogs are threatening... Cute? You're calling me cute?"
"No! I meant...that angry puppies are cute!"
"And I'm an angry puppy. You forgot the comparison you were making." I point out to him.
"..." Damien doesn't respond to that, either.
He isn't very good at lying. But what's worse than that is when he doesn't say anything.
"There's nothing that makes someone look more guilty than silence. You're making yourself look bad. Now, I-I know you're hiding something. Seems like you're hiding the fact that you think I'm cute." I remark.
He sighs. "Okay. You're fucking adorable. Is that what you wanted?"
Instantly, my face feels like it's on fire.
Dammit.
I use one of my hands to cover my cheeks and look away from him.
"You're adorable." I counter.
"Bullshit. You're more adorable. You have the fluffy hair and the big innocent eyes and the huge sweaters. Adorable."
"I am not. You have...something. I don't know because I can't see you, but you're adorable!"
"Adorable. I'll spell it. A-D-...uh..." He pauses a moment, "O? Yeah. I think it's an O."
"You absolute fucking dumb-ass. Oh my god."
"No! I'll get it! A-D-O-R-A .... Um. B? L-E?! It's easier when I write it out."
I sigh deeply. "Do you need me to help you with spelling, too?"
"Nah. I have auto correct."
"You can't use auto correct while- Never mind. Stop trying to spell stuff and don't call me adorable."
"Spell stuff. S-T-U-F-F. Stuff."
I think I'm going to cry.
"Stop!"
"Spell stop. S-T-O-P. Stop."
"Oh my God..." I rub my head.
"God? Can you tell me the language of origin please?"
"It's way more complicated than that. The word God comes from so many different languages, including old English, Norse, German, and Dutch... I can list them all, if you want." I offer, to get him to shut the hell up.
"Nope. That's all the information I need. Spell God. G-O-D. God."
"I'll start crying if you do that again." I warn.
He laughs, "Okay. I'll stop."
He pulls up to his house, parking the car.
"...You called this a sleepover. What are we going to do? Eat, watch TV, and...sleep?" I won't sleep through the night.
"I mean, probably. Yeah. Unless you have other ideas."
"That works."
We get out and I immediately hand him the pizza box.
"My parents...are not home. What a surprise." He murmurs, leading me inside.
"They never are. Are they really always busy with work?"
"Yep. I get to see my dad on Tuesday and Thursday nights."
"Is that why we can't ever meet after school on Tuesdays and Thursdays? Because your dad is here?"
"Well, yeah. And he's...teaching me those nights. Like company stuff. Business stuff."
"Stocks...?" I don't really know what that means. But that's what he says they do.
"Sure."
I'm almost positive he's lying, but at this point, I don't care. If it's bad enough to make him lie about it, then I don't want to know.
"Are we going upstairs?"
"I don't know. Will you fall and die?"
"Maybe. There's no way to be sure." I shrug.
"Well...don't."
"Okay."
He leads me upstairs...kind of. He has me walk in front of him. I don't know why he does that.
He's not going to catch me, or whatever. That's stupid.
He sets the pizza box onto the table in front of the couch in his bedroom. I think his bedroom is only slightly smaller than my house...
"Your parents make a lot of money. Doing stocks."
I wonder if he thinks I believe him...?
"Yeah. My dad owns a few businesses, too. It's not just that. Hence, the...business stuff."
"Oh... Makes sense," I stare at him as he sits down, "Do your parents come home at night time?"
"Yeah. But not until late. And a lot of the weekends, they go on trips out of town."
"They won't be mad that I'm here... Right?" I ask hesitantly.
"By the time they get home, we'll be up here and they'll be in bed."
"You're not even going to tell them...?"
"Why bother?" He sits on the couch and opens the pizza box.
The smell is intense.
"Because, if you don't, then you're lying to them. Or...just hiding something from them. They'll find out eventually. I don't think they would like that you hid something from them." I insist.
"I don't care."
"Oh," I sit at the opposite side of the couch, "You might as well keep me here forever."
"I guess I have no choice but to keep you. They honestly wouldn't know for a few weeks."
"A person is pretty hard to hide." I point out.
"Meh. You're small." He holds something out to me, "Here."
"I'm not small." I argue, watching his hand.
There's nothing funnier than making him hold things out.
"You're very small. Take the pizza."
"I am not. Is the pizza still hot?" The box was really hot.
"It's warm. I will eat this in like three seconds if you don't take it."
"I just wanted to make sure it wouldn't burn." I take it from him.
It's hot, but it doesn't burn.
"Your thoughts?" He asks, grabbing some for himself.
"...It's really good. I think it's cool that we found something that you'll actually eat that I like. Now we can have pizza every time."
He laughs. "No way. Pizza is for special occasions only."
"I think tutoring is a special occasion." I smile a bit.
"We're not eating pizza twice a week...or three times a week. This isn't even tutoring anymore."
"Well, this isn't. Today is just celebration. With cheese. I have decided I like cheese."
"I could live on cheese." He agrees.
"Sounds good. Then why are you arguing against pizza?"
"Firstly I'm not arguing against PIZZA. I'm arguing against pizza three times a week."
"Pizza...five times a week. Just bring it to school."
"That's how you die at twenty-five."
"Fine. Not at school. I would get in trouble anyway. Just...once a week. Once a week, we have pizza."
"...No. Every...two weeks."
"Are you compromising with me? Awesome."
"No pizza ever. Throw it out the window."
...What?
No...
I'm so hungry and this is so good. Please.
I am so, so hungry...
"I was kidding. We can have pizza whenever you want. It doesn't matter to me." I quickly try to explain myself.
He laughs. "I was joking, too. We can have it sometimes. I'll get it for you whenever you want."
"Okay. Don't joke like that. I'm really just happy that you give me anything at all. I don't care what it is." I tell him.
It's just...better when it's nuggets...or pizza.
"Okay. I won't joke like that... What are you going to do tomorrow after school? When you go home?"
"I don't know. I'm going to be in a lot of trouble. If I can, I'll probably be texting you all night." I sigh.
"If it gets too bad, just...call me and I can come get you."
"I will. But it depends on what you consider too bad."
"Hurting you. Hurting you is bad. Why the fuck do you stay with her anyway? She seems like an ass."
"I know she's going to do that, so that can't be what makes you want me to call you. And where else am I supposed to go? I've lived at that house my whole life. I can't leave."
"I don't know. But she shouldn't. You shouldn't have to deal with that."
"Why not? You always say stuff like that, but you don't have any argument to back it up."
"Because no one should have to deal with that."
"Deal with...getting hurt? You realize that you hurt people, right?"
Hypocrite...
"That's not what we're talking about! Just...text me, or call me, or whatever if you need me to come get you, okay?"
"Okay, but there needs to be a real line. Because I'm not going to make you come get me just because I think she might hurt me. Then I shouldn't even go home. And I can't stay here."
"Well, you can't stay here. I guess you can just call if you feel like you should."
"I'll c-call you when I would die if I didn't. Is that fair?"
"That sounds fair. You should just leave and live somewhere else. I don't know where, but somewhere."
"Yeah, I'll just get a job, and a car, and a house. Then live on my own. Perfect." I mutter.
That's never going to happen.
"Maybe someday."
"No. I can't go anywhere. I'm not going t-to live alone...until after my aunt d-dies."
"Why would you stay with her if you don't have to? She sounds horrible."
"I can't...leave. I-I would just get in trouble. And I don't know how to live on my own. I c-can't cook, remember?" I remind him.
"I guess so."
"It would be easier if you just came with me."
"...Lived with you?"
"N-No, I- Um... I meant, like, when I go home, just come stay. Since I can't stay here because I would get in trouble and because of your parents. I know it can't happen, but... It would be safer."
"I don't think your aunt would let me. And I have to be with my dad until 8:00."
"She wouldn't care as long as you didn't talk. But, yeah... I'm just scared."
"I wish I could help somehow. All I can do is tell you that, if you need me, I'll come."
"I always need you..." I curl up, bringing my knees to my chest.
The whole room smells like pizza. It's kinda funny.
"What can I do? To help?"
"You help when we're together," I look over at him and I'm pretty sure he's staring at me, "I wish we could just hang out more. Being with you...It-It's the only time I have felt safe in such a long time. When y-you aren't here, I-I don't feel safe. I h-hate it. It's been that way since I can remember. When I was l-little, my dad w-would always get r-really upset. I never felt safe with him."
"Where is your dad?" He cuts in.
I take a deep breath, shivering.
No one else at school knows about this...
"H-He's in jail. The police took him in a-after he locked me out-outside and gave me this scar," I motion faintly to the back of my neck, "and this one," the one hidden by my glasses.
"Can I...?" He asks softly, his hand coming up just a bit.
I nod.
He pulls my glasses down to see the scar. He's probably noticed it by now. Most people assume it's from someone at school. 
He runs his finger over it lightly, staying silent.
"I-I had dropped...a glass cup. It shattered. H-He took a shard in his hand- and...and... He b-beat me again, and l-locked-..." I feel myself start violently shaking at the memories.
"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." He murmurs quietly, as if not to scare me.
As if I'm not already horrified.
"I just w-want you t-to...to know that I'm so happy...that you let me stay with you. No one has ever cared about me before, a-and no one...lets me...have chicken nuggets." I stammer.
"You should be getting that already. Me giving you basic human rights isn't being nice."
"Y-You think I deserve those things, b-but I know I don't. And it's why I don't fight back or even r-run away from anyone. It's not- I am not worth it, Damien."
He seems to panic a bit with my words. I don't know why I'm telling him this...but I feel like he deserves to know.
He never tells me anything about his parents. The only things I know are obvious lies.
I choke out a sob, "I just...want to disappear. I don't w-want to h-have to deal with any of this anymore... I want to d-die."
"Never ever say that. Never. " He says firmly.
"What?"
"If you're allowed to be mad at me for joking about it then you're sure as fuck not allowed to be serious about it. Don't think like that."
...Fair.
"I know, but... My...My dad, and my aunt, and e-even- everyone at school... Damien, if y-you w-want me around, then y-you're the only one who does." I wish he would realize that he's being crazy.
"I don't care if I'm the only one. I need you. Please stay." He says.
"Why?"
Why should I stay? It's making everything so much harder on everyone.
"Because I...tutoring." He finishes lamely.
I manage a laugh, "Damien..."
"Fine. And I care about you. We're friends... Remember? That's what friends do. Care about each other."
"Don't worry. I... I'm not going to d-do anything to m-myself. I don't have to."
"Yeah. Your aunt does plenty." He says, sounding angry.
"Exactly. That's why... I n-need her. S-She's really all I have, and at this point, I'm so used t-to all of this. I don't know what I-I would do if she s-stopped."
"You have me." He says quietly.
"I-I know..." I mumble, "But I don't think y-you would do what she does. It's...not the s-same."
"I wouldn't hurt you. And you shouldn't be used to it."
"I am, though. Whether I-I should be or not. I'm s-so used to it, and being around you m-makes things b-better, but then, I just f-feel guilty. Things aren't m-meant to be better for m-me. "
"Well," He says, handing me another slice of pizza, "You better get used to it."
"You... You're never going to stop being nice to me, right?"
"Why would I? I like being nice to you. It wouldn't benefit me to be mean to you."
Something makes me want to move closer to him... But I don't. I know he says he won't do anything, but it doesn't change the fact that he's a human being who lies.
"Yeah... I guess so."
The room goes silent for a minute or two.
He starts eating a new piece of pizza, still looking at me.
I take a bite of my piece and curl up a bit tighter.
"...Do y-you...want to watch TV now?" I suggest.
"Sure. What do you want to watch?" He says, grabbing the remote from off the table.
I lean back against the couch, watching his hand intently.
I know he isn't going to do anything...
"Just anything. I just need something to listen to."
It's always so quiet at home.
He turns on a movie made for kids and sits back, leaning his head back and probably not watching the TV.
I don't know why he doesn't just play something he likes.

End