Drown Boy

Hazel: Behind his Amber eyes

I see the boy, as if he was drowning. In my dreams, he is lost in a vast ocean and has sunk to the depths. However, the further he goes down, the water becomes more clearer. At the bottom of the bed, it is like a river, but at this point hes already dead.
His hair sprawls in all directions almost as if his head was a great white shark and each strand a fish. Tiny pearls erupted out of his mouth like a miniature volcano.
The more I watched, I realised that he was floating like a helium balloon. The bottom was on top or I was just the wrong way up. The sandy bank seemed to be above me. I seemed to be falling with him.
He seemed to be shouting. Screaming even. Calling out my name as if I was his lost puppy. His piercing orange eyes staring at me. He knew that I was there but I knew that I couldn't help him.
I wish I could.
Somehow this all seems familiar. I had seen this before; a strange case of dejavu.
It all became apparent to me, the room, Lois, the blood, the gash and her sweet branded milky eyes.
And a boy taped to the ceiling with duct tape, drenched in water. He was not moving. His eyes were shut. Water pooled round his face and his eyes and his mouth, suffocating him swiftly from the inside out.
I didn't know if he was dead or alive.

All I want to know is who put him there.
I want them to never see the light of day again.

***********************************

I wake up and I become a flood in a paper cup. All the emotions run down my cheeks like waterfalls. I can't breathe. Am I drowning?
I want to be.

************************************

July 22nd

But I was in my hospital bed, with pristine sheets and a bunch of wilted flowers on my bedside table, along with some cards and toys. I couldn't see most of it because all the lights in the room were bright to the point where it blinds me. The whir of machines could be heard in the distance and lots of doctors looking pitifully into my bed. I bet they didn't know I was going to survive.
I felt a small pinch at the bottom of my toes. It was my grandmother, she had come to visit me? She was in austrailia... how did she get half way across the world so fast. I didnt really care because she was here now. She wore a big grin and I guess was happy to know I was still alive.
The first thing I thought about was that I needed to tell them what had happened. There was a murderer about and I wanted to see his guts strewn on the floor. I parted my lips, and started waving them around in the usual motion, words did not come out. As much as i tried to scream and should there was nothing I could say. To be honest, I could never say anything again. My vocal chords had been shattered when whoever hurt Lois slashed my throat. It was unfixable and the many operations I had never worked. I think that I will never speak again.
I am forever a mute.
I tried to move but my body hurt from my toes to the top of my and there was the feeling that I couldn't move; you know the one where you've had a nightmare but too scared to move. Maybe my joints haven't been used for so long that they have been rendered useless.
I had later found out that been there a week before I realised where I was that day. I was pleased to find out that Lois had survived.

When the police came for the statement, I told them about what I saw. With brief hesitation and a slight sweat of upper lips, they told me a boy died.
Drowning.
They didn't say anymore.