Breaking Free (BXB)

Chapter 12- Boyscouts Failed Me

I was lost. Totally, undeniably, lost. I had passed the same blob-shaped rock five times. Or maybe it was the shape of a six-armed platypus. I couldn't tell. Either way, I recognized it and that meant I was lost. Why did I think that I could make it out of this god-forsaken forest without a guide, or really at all?

Groaning, I slid against the nearest tree trunk, pressing my palms against my eyes in frustration. I was no woodland tracker, that was made obvious by my failed escape plan and many failed Boyscouts trips. Well, not failed yet, anyway. I had managed not to get caught, though I'm pretty sure I'd been wandering for hours and they would certainly have noticed by now, so I really didn't have much time before they did inevitably find me. Shaking my head I tried not to think about my stupidly horrible plan.

My mind trailed back to the disaster at dinner and I cringed, my cheeks burning at the memory. I should've just read the body language of the situation and shut up. They probably hated me now. Maybe they had noticed I was gone, but didn't do anything about it. Why would they? I'm just some scrawny kid that followed Owen around like a lost puppy.

The look on Owen's face when I had said what I did, burned itself into my mind and I curled into a ball, placing my head on my knees and hitting it against them softly. He couldn't look at me, he wouldn't look at me, but I could clearly see how he felt about me. Maybe I had lulled myself into a false sense of security, lulled myself into believing that he had decided he liked me after all, that what we did at the party meant something to him as well. Obviously, I was way off, and I got so caught up into this beautiful storm he created that I left my dad and my friends not knowing where I was and how I was doing. How could I be so selfish? A single tear slipped out from my eye. I was a horrible friend, son, lover, escapee and forest tracker. How had my life come to this?

The snap of a twig reverberated around the clearing. Jumping to my feet, I wiped my face, my body jolting to high alert. I raised my shaking fists into the air, my eyes darting around wildly. A small squirrel dashed out from behind a bush and I sighed, about to lower my fists when the branches in a nearby bush rustled, and I popped to attention once more.

"Put your hands away, you won't win." His voice was dark and soft and had an edge of dry humor in it. Owen. I narrowed my eyes to where I'd heard his voice. Another twig snapped and I let out a small squeak. The movements paused and I backed up. Right into a log. Gasping in shock, I plummeted to the ground, my body hitting the forest floor with a great 'oomph.' I groaned, wheezing for air. Owen laughed. He laughed. He really laughed at me falling on my butt. What a dick. 

I rolled my eyes, Owen's voice floated around the clearing like the tinkling of wind chimes. Pushing myself onto my elbows, I glared at him, half-way hoping that I would suddenly gain laser vision and burn holes in his chest.

"Shut up." I hissed and he only laughed harder, his hands slapping his thighs. Slowly regaining his senses, my flaming eyes never leaving him, he sobered up and stared me dead in the eyes, his body tense. It was as if he had remembered something dark and tender and lost and it was suddenly coming to light. Or maybe someone spat in his coffee this morning, that would definitely do it. Pushing myself to stand, I regarded him warily.

"You have to come back, Milo." He spat out, looking like he hadn't wanted to say it at all. His lips were pursed and his eyes narrowed and turned down in distaste. I frowned at my toes. I thought that I would be angry and vicious like a wounded animal, but I wasn't. Not in the least. My heart pounded dully in my chest, reaching out for him, wanting to apologize and feel that warm shock of electricity from our hands touching. But I couldn't.

"My dad needs me," I whispered, not daring a glance up at him.

"We need you."He pleaded, his voice so soft it was almost carried away in the wind. I stayed silent, letting it carry my answer. He paused, a crack in his voice making it seem like there was something else he wanted to say. After several seconds I gave up on hearing him say it.

"You'll be fine without me." I murmured. "I'm all my dad has." Sighing, I stared down at the leaves. I felt guilt pool in my stomach, even though a rational part of me knew there was nothing to be guilty about. Owen stepped closer to me. I didn't move.

"Milo, we won't be fine without you." He took another step, completely ignoring the possibility that my dad really did need me more. I didn't look up at him. I couldn't look up at him. His words held a weight I couldn't even begin to understand. "We'll die without you. Don't you understand? We'll lose this war if you don't choose us, and they'll kill us all. They hate us, down to their very cores." My head snapped up, our gazes clashing.

"You're lying." I spat. He had to be lying, something like that could only be made up, it only ever happened in books and movies, not in real life. Owen took another step closer, our chests only a couple inches away from each other, our breaths mingling.

"I'm not." Owen shook his head sadly. "We really do need you." He paused, his mouth opening and closing like a fish's. Swallowing, Owen straightened himself up, looking the most nervous I had ever seen him. "I-" A torrent of pain ripped through my chest, white-hot and burning its way through every inch of my body in seconds. I screamed, ripping at my chest, my knees buckling beneath me. Something crunched beneath me and I had a feeling that it wasn't just sticks and leaves."Milo!" Owen cried out, dropping down to the forest floor next to me.

"Owen!" I whimpered, pain searing every inch of my body. His hands hovered over me, searching for some source of pain, too hesitant and scared to touch me. Carefully, as if I might break, Owen scooped me up, running off into the trees as fast as he could. Tears streamed down my face as the pain throbbed in every part of my body with every bump and jolt. He ran faster and I squeaked.

"Milo, oh god, Milo." I could barely see anything through the haze of the pain and the tears and the fear of what was happening to me, but I could see the look on his face as clear as day. It was evident in the wrinkles in his forehead and the way he worried his lip and the tenseness in his muscles as he ran. Another torrent of pain ripped through me and I shrieked, clutching his shirt like a lifeline, my back arching in a useless attempt to relieve the pain. Oh, God, I just want it to stop.  My head throbbed like something was trying to break free from it, tears bursting from my eyes. I buried my head in Owen's chest, trying to clear the pain with only his scent. But the pain remained.

The trees passed by, a blur of green and brown, before molding into greys with light colors and fuzzy faces, then shouting and worried voices filled my ears, a cacophony of blurry noise. I could hear my tortured screams bouncing off of the cave walls as if it was someone else screaming and not me. 

"Oh shit." That was Tom. His voice was somewhere between dark and light, but even if he was serious now, his usual joking tone out the window, I could tell it was him. The sound of several pairs of steps running along rock and stone clacked into my ears and I winced. Several pairs of voices talked beside me, muffled by Owen's shirt. I didn't want to listen. Everything hurt too bad to try to listen to what they were saying. Owen could just tell me later. He held me for a long time, and slowly the pain began to ebb and my screams gave way to quiet whimpers. It was several minutes later when he gently lowered me onto something soft and familiar: my bed. I nuzzled my body into the blankets, glad for the comfort and quiet, even if I would've preferred to be at home with my dad. Slowly, hesitantly, Owen climbed in with me.

"You'll be ok Milo, I promise," Owen whispered, brushing back the sweaty strips of hair that lay on my forehead.  I liked the way he said my name like I was his entire world. The voices of people and doctors floating in and out of my room and Owen's calloused fingers stroking my hair was all that filled my senses for several hours. The pain had turned to a dull throb and Owen had long since allowed me to rest my head in the crook between his shoulder and his neck when I heard the sounds of shouting and screams. My eyes flew open and I groaned as I tried to peer through my fluttering curtain to catch a glimpse of what was going on. Shouts filled my ears and several pained cries.

"What's going on, Owen." I croaked out, my voice cracking painfully. He hesitated for just a second, before continuing to stroke my hair. I looked up at him, his eyes staring out of the curtain.

"The raiders must have found some hunters. It's nothing." He murmured, his lips hovering just above my forehead. My heart softened, but I still couldn't take my eyes off of the curtain. Nothing happened for a while, and I went to take a nap. Then a man with pale hair and wide, familiar, blue eyes, was dragged past, a long, nasty cut on his face. A face I knew. A face I recognized. I shot up, my head protesting violently, my blood rushing to my feet.

"Dad!" 

Then my vision turned black.