The Game Developers Son

Chapter One

With the stinging sensation in my knee turning into a weird, buzzing sensation, I closed my eyes, and attempted to fall asleep in the position I was in. I still couldn't see, but I could feel that my arms were tied together and bound against whatever I hit my head on. My legs were also somehow tied to this thing, as I couldn't move them either. I guess that, when I finally get some light, I would finally see what had happened to me. Until then, I would just have to sleep.

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I pulled the hood of my coat over my head, pulling the drawstrings so the soft lining of the coat pressed against my face. The wind blew harshly against my exposed skin, turning it as red and as raw as an fresh, frozen slab of meat. I shoved my hands into my pockets, running the fingers of my left hand over the screen of my phone. The warm back of it was a give away sign that I had used it in the last class of the day. Everybody's phones probably had warm backs to them, as it was the last day of school. We were meant to be watching movies based on the subjects that we had in school today, yet everybody was on their phones during those films. I can't even remember what they were about. I was actually kinda shocked my phone hadn't died today. I woke up late, and also in a hurry, and I also happened to not charge my phone overnight, causing it to only have a forty percent battery life. Somehow, the school day ended with it having twenty percent. I wrapped my fingers over the hard metal, pulled it from the stuffy, encased space of my 'The North Face' jacket, and turned it on. My background, which was a picture of me and my only close friend, Hunter, showed up, with the phones clock above us. It was thirty minutes past three in the afternoon. Crap.

Like clockwork every year, my parents always take me and Connor ice skating at a park that was around two or so hours away. They normally went there straight after work, so I was left to pick Connor up from his school. His school, for some reason, ended thirty minutes after mine. My school ended at three. And I was ten minutes away from his. I verbally sighed out loud. Not from annoyance, but more from fear. Connor, despite being the age of six, had already been diagnosed with anxiety, as well as autism. If I wasn't there by the time that he walked out of the front gate, he would have a complete meltdown. The last meltdown he had was around two weeks ago, and it was both terrifying and upsetting. He was sobbing his eyes out, and he would only let me wipe the tears from his eyes. Even though it only lasted a few minutes, I didn't want him feeling the slightest bit upset; Especially around Christmas. I instantly picked up my speed, my feet slipping every now and then on the frozen-over snow. I didn't care if I feel over and hurt myself, I didn't want Connor being upset.

As I ran faster, the wind that was blowing hit me harder and harder against my bare face. I was visually shaking from the cold. The school came into sight. Multiple flocks of children were getting onto school buses, getting into cars, or just walking alongside their parents. Connor wasn't within the flocks, probably meaning one of two things. He was either still in his classroom, just about to leave, or standing outside of the gate with cocktail of tears and snot cascading down his face. I raced around the corner, almost knocking into a young girl on crutches, and eyed the gate. A small figure wearing a bright green coat, dark grey jeans, blue trainers with laces that matched the colour of their natural, platinum blond hair trotted out, staring directly at the ground. My heart almost instantly calmed down. He was safe. I jogged forward, catching his attention, and slipped my hand into his. It was frozen over. He used to have gloves, yet some kid stole them off from him around a week ago, and his coat also didn't have pockets, meaning that he too had to suffer with frozen hands.

I took his slightly heavy rucksack off from his back, and slid it onto my shoulder. It wasn't extremely heavy, not as heavy as mine at least, but for a young child who only weighed around sixty or seventy pounds, it probably felt like he was a carrying a house. I turned on my heel, tightening my grip on my younger brothers hand as we trudged through the thick fields of school children to make our way to the public bus stop. Our ice skating rink, at least the one that we went to, took ages to get to. In a car, on a relatively traffic-free day, it would take around two and a half hours-excluding the frequent bathroom breaks that we had to make due to Connor's bladder being extremely underdeveloped. Oh yeah, Connor also had that. Gosh, he had so many conditions. Of course, the other kids, or brats as I like to call them, at his school knew about these 'problems' and bullied him relentlessly over them. I guess, in a way, it has thickened his skin. I remember the days when he first joined and came home with red eyes and tear-stains. Now, whenever somebody throws an insult at him, he normally ignores it. I still remember this one time he answered back with a simple 'so what?'. I chuckled to myself. The brat that said the insult looked terrified.