Game Boy

15 - AFK

Kenneth's blood was ice. He couldn't move. Nor could he feel the heat that should've been seeping from her hands into his. Then again, there was never any warmth in those hands. Only the hot sting of her fist and palm across his face and back. He shivered and tried to muster up words, strength, anything. His fingers curled into his palm and he jerked his hand back finally. He pulled it close to his chest and inched back as he struggled to sit up. His hands and feet were slipping among the blankets and he struggled but managed to shy back. 

Still, she came forward. Rising from her chair, his mother cocked her head to one side and took a seat on the edge of the bed. Her hands didn't leave her lap, but her eyes leaned in towards him as she smiled. He wondered if there was venom behind her lips, waiting to be spat in his face. How many more scars could she leave?

How many more scars would she leave?

His back arched as he drew his knees to his chest and coughed. His fingers dug into the soft flabby flesh of his underused legs and he bared his teeth. "Go away." Surely she had to. There was the restraining order--

Kenneth mentally chided himself. He'd signed to void the restraining order for her financial support. He'd signed it all away because he was dying and he couldn't live without her money getting him those lungs. Why had he done it? His eyes darted around the space around her. No robots were in the room. There should be at least one, right? They could see the history, the reports, the files and all the accounts of abuse-related injuries in his medical files. The restraining order alone should be a dead giveaway.

They don't care. He shivered and leaned more into his knees at the thought, knowing it was true. They didn't care. He alone had no money, and she had all of the money. Why should they care if he ended up bruised and battered? They were no better than all the juries and judges that had refused to do anything for kids like him in the past. 

Turning, she tilted her head to one side, questioning him with her eyes. 

Kenneth pressed his lip together and kept to his corner of the bed. She wasn't coming any closer right now, but if she did--his eyes skipped to the metal food tray--he'd be prepared. He could fight. He'd fought off those guards. He could fight off her. 

"What's wrong? I had hoped you were doing well..." Her lips tugged into a pouting frown, but not the kind that conveyed concern.

Kenneth panted quietly and refused to respond. She wouldn't get anything out of him. Nothing. His chest ached, though. He needed to lay down and the pain was only going to get worse the more he sat here panting and wheezing into the air. With his knees in his chest, he could hardly breathe right as it was. Still, she was sitting too close. He couldn't lay down and become vulnerable. He needed to be upright and ready to attack at a moment's notice. 

His eyes trailed to her hands as she twiddled her thumbs in her lap. Her eyes were still on him, probably sizing up what was left of the son she'd chased off. Did she really care? Probably not, he thought and rested his chin closer to his knees. She was like a hawk and if he had to guess, she was figuring out the best attack point. 

Well, I'm not going to give it to her. He tightened his grip and ignored the painful spark inside of his chest. Breathing was good, and getting very hard. Where was Byrd when he needed someone? He pressed his fingers tight into his palm, wishing he was still holding her hand. Slowly, his eyes lifted to the VR headset and he reached out, snatching it back. His mother couldn't be allowed near that either. It was the only place in the world truly devoid of her. 

Slipping it down into his lap and against his stomach, Kenneth protected it against himself as he leaned his chin back on his knees and rasped loudly.