I couldn't get him off my mind. The crying boy in that abandoned home. I found myself tapping on my living-room wall, tapping my foot. My mother was out at some convention with her friends, and my father was probably still at work. My sister, on the other hand, was upstairs with somebody or other. I didn't know who, and nor did I care. They were probably gossiping about their other friends as they always did, and I had no intention of joining in with the pair of idiots. I rolled my eyes, letting out a sigh, my ears ringing with the sound of the poor boy's sobs.

I stood up, my hands on top of my head, spinning around in a circle. I couldn't leave him alone there, not with that sore around his neck. He had definitely tried to hang himself, and was too distraught to get himself out of there on his own. I marched to the window, eyes searching the driveway for my mother's red car. My eyes lit up, and I smiled, walking quickly into the hallway. "Carmen!" I called up the stairs, waiting for her to finish rolling her eyes before she emerged from her room.

"What do you want?" She called to me. She had her hair up on her head in rollers; as per usual, every Friday night Carmen and her idiot friends went out and got drunk.

"I'm going out. I'm taking mom's car. I'll be back in about an hour." I said, she frowned at me.

"Are you not going to take me and everybody else to town tonight then?" She asked, I had already turned my back and was beginning to head towards the door. I shook my head, reaching out to open the door as she stomped on the floor like a little child. I chuckled, picking up the car keys from the little table in front of me, slamming the door shut before she could run down the stairs and attack me somehow. Considering Carmen and I were almost identical twins, we were nothing alike. The more we grew, the less we looked like each other. She dyed hers blonde, I kept mine the same mousey brown. She liked to put coloured contact lenses in, I stuck with my green eyes. It was clear that my parents favoured her over me. She wanted our parents to spend their money on her, I preferred them not to. My father, in a drunken stupor, told me that I was always his favourite. The thought of my mother finding out that he said something like that to me amused me, as I couldn't stand her or Carmen.

I unlocked her car, just as my sister opened the front door, her friend stood behind her. She was ready to start yelling at me, but I had already thrown the car into reverse, and was backing out of the driveway. She held up her middle finger at me, I returned the favour.

The roads were quiet, and I couldn't help but feel nervous, like the emptiness was an omen. I turned my music up, concentrating on the road and the boy that was probably still rocking alone in that bedroom. I thought that I had missed the turning, until I saw the small wooden gate that led to the forest. Parking the car, I stepped out, locking it behind me. The summer wind chilled me, I rubbed my arms as I looked around myself. The wind whistled in the trees, clouds creeping across the skies, threatening to hurl rain on top of me.

I walked quickly, arms folded across my body to shield me from the breeze. Sticks snapped underneath my feet as I walked, branches scratching at my pale arms. I breathed in and out heavily, walking quickly to get to him. I hated the fact that he was still alone, without somebody to talk to. Nobody to comfort him. I had convinced myself that if I could calm him down enough, then he would've been able to talk to me about why he was in there alone. More than anything, I wanted to know why there was a huge red ring around his neck.

I stood at the gate for just a moment, before flinging it open, hurrying across to the front door. The wind was a lot wilder here, blowing leaves everywhere. The front door was still shut, the way that we had left it the night before; naturally that gave me some amount of relief, knowing that he hadn't wandered off somewhere. The door creaked open, the same way that it did yesterday. I closed it, listening to the noise echo throughout the hallway. I hurried upstairs; I was almost out of breath by the time that I was standing in the doorway of his room. He was still sat there, rocking slowly, eyes focussed on the window. I knocked on the door to get his attention, he stopped rocking.

I wandered inside, kneeling down in front of him. He was hunched over, his hands shaking. I picked one up, it was clammy, his fingers curled. "Hey." I said quietly, trying to get him to look at me. He looked down, his body shaking as if every movement hurt him. He blinked twice, acknowledging that I was there in front of him. "What's your name?" I asked, watching his lips move.

He struggled for a moment, gurgling. He began to scream in his frustration, bashing his hands against the bed as he struggled to get the words out. His breathing got heavier, his voice louder and louder. I stood up, grabbing hold of his hands, as he began to cry hysterically. "It's okay. It's okay. Please don't get upset." I said quietly, holding him for a little while longer. I used my sleeve to wipe the hot tears from his eyes, listening to his laboured breathing. "Say it slowly. Take your time." I said calmly, as he looked down into his lap.

"O-s-s-scar." He said quietly, sniffling, his bottom lip trembling. I smiled, lifting his head up so that we looked each other in the eye. He had resumed his rocking, looking straight ahead. I let go of him, his arms dropped to his sides, bouncing on the bed.

"Can you stand?" I asked. He cocked his head to the side, his mouth ajar, refusing to make eye contact with me. I realised that I had probably taken on more than I could handle; the boy was a foot taller than me, and probably weighed a lot more. I let out a sigh, looking out of the window. The car was probably a ten-minute walk away from us, but it would take longer than that to get him out of the house. His attention was focussed solely on rocking back and forth. "Oscar? I asked, waving my hand in front of his face. He gurgled at me, leaning forwards to stand up. I gripped him underneath his arms, as his body swayed back and forth, his torso slumped over as if he was a puppet waiting for his strings to be pulled. I grunted, trying to get him to stand up, all to no avail. I sighed, walking forwards, his feet dragging after his body before he figured out how to use them. His breathing sounded as though he was having an asthma attack, but I continued to carry him to the stairs.

Standing there, at the top of the stairs, paranoia sat in. I couldn't stop thinking about the fact that this boy was probably going to drag the pair of us down the stairs. He gurgled at me, swiping at my hand, forcing me to let go of him. He staggered on his feet, I slowly stepped backwards, holding my arms out to him. I felt like I was trying to teach my toddler how to walk. But my toddler was the size of a grown man, his arms twitching, his face straight with vacant eyes. I beckoned to him, he staggered forwards.

It was one of the most painful moments in my life, watching him struggle towards me, his arms reaching out to me. I gripped his hands tightly, stepping backwards, he grunted, his knees buckling every so often.

We made it to the bottom, he let go of my hands, looking around. He squinted, as though he was looking for something or somebody. I let him stagger in a circle for a moment, as this was probably one of the last times that he would be in here. There was no way that I would've allowed him to stay here on his own, even after his hysterical episode. It would have been inhumane of me to leave him here in the dark, and the cold, and the dust. He struggled over to a wall, it was covered in pictures. He reached out to one, gurgling under his breath, his fingers gripping the golden frame of a smiling girl. He ripped it from the wall, clutching it to his body as though it was the most important object that he had ever encountered. He stared at the floor, his legs trembling, as though they were made of gelatine. "Who's that?" I asked, as he stared at the floor. He held onto the picture even more tightly with one hand, the other hand reaching out for me to hold onto him. I felt my heart melt, as his clammy hand squeezed mine. His face was still vacant, no expression on it at all. I couldn't help but feel sorry for him.
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Song Of The Chapter - M.E. by Gary Numan

A.N
You're all probably wondering where I've gone - but I'm here. Haven't edited this chapter because I don't have the mental capacity to do so, but anyway, I hope you all enjoy it somehow.

As you were x