"Riaz! Hey, can you hear me?" Fingers snapped in his face. "Hey, wake up!"

"Dad, why is he shaking like that?"

"Go to your room, Farhana."

"But..."

"Now. I won't tell you again. Go!"

"Hello, this is Zaheer Adam. My son is having a seizure... No, he's not epileptic... Shit! His heartbeat is really, really high... Yes he's sweating a lot... I don't know what he took... 134 Maple Drive."

"Don't die." A command, not a plea.

...

"Lying bastard. He's probably going to tell us all those burn marks were caused by the kid too."

"He's intubated already?"

"Ya. Doctor Steyn came in and did it."

"Has his heart rate dropped yet?"

"No, still too high. Get that ECG in before he comes back."

"Probably going to have his stomach pumped. Shame, he's going to feel it when he wakes up."

"Hmm. Going to try the social worker route again?"

"You can try. Last time Le Roux tried, he looked like a bloody panda for a week. I'm not telling this kid anything .Look at his muscles. I don't know why he doesn't just klap the old..."

"Shit! Get Steyn. The kid is having another seizure!"

"Hey, you okay?" A voice from his left snapped him out of his daydream. He had to turn to the side to put a face to the voice as he stared at the little plump girl next to him.

"What makes you think that I want to talk to you?" He stared at her, his gaze unflinching behind his glasses. She could see why her friends thought he was a bit intimidating.

She raised an eyebrow at his rude behaviour before turning back to face the front. "Sorry I asked."

Riaz turned back to the front trying to decipher the untidy scrawl printed on the board. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, irritated at the fact that their teacher didn't have the decency to even try to write neatly. He was halfway through the work before a little, neatly folded note disrupted him once again.

Your hands are shaking.

He turned to the side once more and was met with a look that he could only assume to be concern. "Leave. Me. Alone." His voice felt scratchy and hoarse. He tried to clear his throat and immediately regretted it. He felt as if he had just dropped a lit match down his throat.

Yet another note landed on his table. He felt irritation flare up at this little... bee who seemed hell-bent on interrupting him.

Sorry.

He gathered up his books and shoved them forcefully in his bag. He pushed back his chair loudly and ignored the surprised yelp of his teacher as he stormed out of the class.

Tasneem stared dumbfounded at the empty seat next to her. Did she dream that he was there because it seemed as if he had vanished in a split second. She really should have just stopped at the first sentence- or better yet, she should have just stayed quiet. But she couldn't help it. The boy had been sitting next to her for almost a month yet he still seemed surprised that she was next to him at all. He was strange. He was punctual to the point of it being almost obsessive and he never, ever missed a day of school. For the 5 years that she had attended St Joseph's, he was the only one to have ever gotten a full attendance merit every year.

Which is why she just had to ask.

He had missed 3 days of school and when he did come back, he looked as if he had just walked through hell and back with nothing else but the clothes on his back. He was already pale white yet he had seemed to look almost translucent allowing his freckles to look an alarming shade of dark brown. His hair was messed up and he could barely even breathe properly yet he sprinted out the class as if he was running  marathon.

She just shook her head at his behaviour.

...

"Hey Riaz?"

"What Farhana?" He didn't have the energy to deal with his sister just then.

"I wanted to ask how you were feeling," she said, uncharacteristically soft. He turned to look at her. She was tall for an 11 year old and if it were not for their eye colour and freckles, he would have sworn that one of them was adopted.

"Fine."

"Oh...okay." Whatever light she used to have in her eyes had been snuffed out by their father a long time ago.

"Stop stealing his cigarettes. I'm not covering for you again." He turned and walked towards the lounge.

"I didn't steal his. I bought my own." 

"Whatever." He tuned her out as he saw his mother lying on the couch with a blanket draped over her body. "Hey Mum." He shook her gently on her shoulder.

Her eyes snapped open and she paled immediately before she realised it was just her son standing over her. "He's gone? Is he gone? I don't know what I should cook? Should I cook? What do you think he wants?" She grabbed onto the lapels of his blazer and pleaded with him to answer. "What should I make?" Her hair had turned fully grey by the time she was 35. There was a time when Riaz had thought she was the most beautiful woman in the whole world but now she was nothing but a stranger. She had weathered and aged. Her beautiful green eyes had dimmed over the years and her cheeks had sunken in. "Tell me. Let me make... what will he like? Let me make it before he comes home. I'm going before he comes home. He can't come now. I have to still make it." Her mutterings had become incoherent by the time she had gotten up off the couch in order to cook supper for the night. It had been years since she had looked at Riaz and saw him as her son. Actually saw him at all.

She shuffled out of their huge lounge giving Riaz enough time to see that she had favoured her left leg as she walked. She was almost hobbling by the time she had reached the doorway and he was sure he could make out whispered whimpers of pain each time she set her right foot on the ground.

He walked tiredly towards his bedroom.

Maybe his father would be in a better mood that night.

Just maybe.