"To my future soul, I hope time is kind to you. I hope you find happiness. I hope you find peace. But above all, I hope you find yourself." - Arius, Scholar of Everlas

~~~~~

"Sirius, are you happy with your life?"

His grandfather's frail fingers make their way onto his own. The question stuns him a moment, this old man has never once said anything of the sort. His grandfather is an odd individual. He's traveled the world in search of adventure since he was around Sirius' age, only popping in to visit family every couple of months.

Sirius has nothing against the man, in fact, he couldn't care less about him. Being only sprinkled throughout his childhood and recent years, the boy has grown no attachment to his grandfather, much like everything else.

Previously dead-eyed, Sirius masks his disengagement with a shallow smile.

"Of course, my life is great."

A lie so obvious, Sirius almost feels bad for saying it aloud. Of course, neither his grandfather or his mother and brother in the room know this. And he has no intention of telling any of them this fact.

The dying man exhales a ragged but relieved breath.

"I'm glad," a fulfilled grin makes its way onto his wrinkled face. "Make sure it stays that way. You know, my life was pretty great too. I saw so many sights, met so many amazing people, went to so many places... it was beautiful."

Sirius can't help but feel a tinge of jealousy. All he can think is the sarcastic words...

-Good for you.

Why are you thinking this way? Stop it. Stop being selfish, this isn't about you.

Amidst his grandfather's final moments, Sirius can't bring himself to care. And he degrades himself for it. Hearing about the grand life of another only reminds him of how much he hates his own. They are thoughts he wishes he wouldn't have.

His mother's tearful cries echo in the bleak hospital room, along with his brother's. Sirius' brother, Canopus, loves their grandfather more than anyone. Their bond is truly something to behold. And now... that is being ripped away from him. It only makes sense to cry.

Even his grandfather builds tears in his eyes, a sight he has never seen before.

All of these tears, all of these weeps and sniffles... and all Sirius can think of is how he's the only one who won't. The only one who can't. His tears don't even think to fall.

The heartbeat on the monitor flatlines, and the aged eyes of his grandfather close for the last time.

Devastation fills the room and drains the tear ducts of his family members dry. The car ride home and the rest of the night bleed together until Sirius is left in his room, watching the ceiling fan spin.

*****

Sirius' eyes greet his dimly lit bedroom. Morning light peers through the curtains, covering the barren walls with its warmth. His alarm ripping him from his false slumber, he reaches over to shut it off. He rolls onto his back, mindlessly watching the ceiling fan spin around and around.

He spent all night trying to feel any morsel of grief, but to no avail. Even after the death of a family member... nothing changes. Just another sleepless night. And now...

-It's just another day.

The rough texture of a tongue slimes his cheek. Hot breath of a dog engulfs the boy's nostrils. Gently patting the tiny head, with a deep breath and a sigh, he stumbles out of bed. Shuffling his feet across the soft carpet, he picks up a slate t-shirt and slips it on. The stubby legs of the old hound follow suit.

Flicking on the light switch to the bathroom, the brightness difference makes him squint. While his bloodshot eyes adjust, he puts his hand under his right eye. It feels heavy. He's been falling asleep later and later, and last night certainly didn't help change that. Despite the never-ending wave of tiredness he feels throughout the day, he just can't seem to sleep. He suspects it to be insomnia, though he can never tell anyone to check.

He tries to avoid himself in the mirror, directing his view to a smiley face he carved in the mirror years ago. He catches a glimpse of his dark, bed-headed hair.

-Your hair is getting long.

The thought almost makes him smile. He has never been one to care about his appearance. For his whole life the hair on his head had been cut short, only recently has he begun growing it out. It is something new, yet he still feels there is no significant change. He looks the same, maybe a little gloomier. The almost-smile retreats into a shallow frown.

Drops of water splash on his shirt. The bristles on his toothbrush are few and tattered, the water glides right through. I need a new toothbrush. He has for a month, but neglects to inform his mother. He finishes brushing his teeth and glances once more into the mirror. Everyone has always told him how handsome he is. But to him, he looks average, below that even. Uninteresting, unappealing, unalive. He heads back into his room and slides on one of his couple dull hoodies. I think I wore this already this week. Oh well.

Now fixed in the kitchen, a piece of toast pops out of the toaster. How many times have I made this same breakfast? While he attempts to switch up his morning meal, if you can even call it a meal, it always leads back to toast. Darn old toast.

Grabbing his bag and keys, he slips on his worn-out shoes. It's been about a year since he's gotten new ones. Clothes too for that matter. As he pushes the door open, his mother's voice reaches his ear.

"I love you, have a good day!"

His mother's words never ring to him as caring. Rather, she is obligated to say it, since he is her son. And yet, she always smiles as she says it.

Her voice is soft, yet slightly strained. Still coping with the death of her father the night before, no doubt. She tries her best to sound loving and happy, but she is painfully easy to read.

His mother is middle-aged with her son's umber hair, only hers is much longer. She stands about a head shorter than Sirius, in her pajamas. Luckily, her job does not require her to dress-up.

Sirius plasters a shoal smile onto his face.

"Bye, see you later."

He steps out into the morning mist and shuts the door. He hops into his old, low-clearance car he had randomly gotten one day as a surprise from his mother. She always comes home with random gifts for him and his brother. Yet Sirius always feels guilty. She's low on money, it's obvious, so why does she always give them random gifts? He wishes she'd stop, though her erratic presents always cure his apathy.

Though only for a moment.

A random song on the radio vibrates throughout the car. Sirius stares blankly at the road. He's driven this road so many times. His subconscious autopilot is the only thing keeping his car on the road. If another car were to come barreling towards him, he probably wouldn't notice.

He parks in his usual spot outside of the school. Shutting off his car, he sits for a moment in silence. Looking at the time, he takes a breath. Another day.

School. Once the highlight of his younger years, now holds absent meaning for him. Anything he learns is immediately forgotten as he steps outside the classroom. His once astonishing grades keep slipping further and further away, though staying awake is more of a struggle than classwork. His body likes to sleep here more than his own bed.

He has friends, but they are just people he talks to. Strangers. Strangers who talk, but don't listen. People. Just people.

All conversations and the teacher's lesson are drowned out by a numbing static. He doesn't care to hear them, so his body won't let him.

Getting a paper in class, he proceeds to doodle before writing his name and lying his head down in his arms. This is what classes are like. Sleep now, do work later. Though usually, that later is at two in the morning. It doesn't really help his whole not sleeping predicament.

Sitting at lunch with a group of friends, he quietly stares off at nothing in particular. One of them asks what he's staring at, Sirius snaps out if it, giving a brief "I don't even know." They all go back to chatting. Lunches are his least favorite time of the school day. It's just sitting at a table full of boys who all know each other. Of course, he knows them too, but only surface level. He hasn't been invited out or to someone's house in ages. They all call and play games online together. They're friends. While Sirius feels like an outsider, he sits with a makeshift smile. I need to use the bathroom.

One of his teachers places the test he took yesterday in front of him. B. Not bad taking his other recent grades for comparison, yet it gives him no satisfaction. He used to be the smartest in his class when he was young. He even attended special learning classes for the talented and gifted. All of that shine has grimed away. Looking to the classmate next to him, an A+ insults him. He flips his paper over and places his head back into his folded arms. I hate history.

The hands of the clock mock his very existence. Slogging incessantly into the abyss of wasted time. Seconds feel like hours that never end.

-Why must time move so slowly?

Walking out of school, he listens to one of his friends ramble. Sirius gets in a couple of sentences, but the guy keeps going on and on. What is he even blabbering about? Sirius eventually walks away towards the soccer fields; the guy doesn't even notice Sirius left. Should I take offense to this?

Kneeling down, he sets his bag onto the ground. While taking out and tying his cleats, a message appears on his phone.

Mom: Hey honey, remember you go to your Dad's house tonight. Love you!

His parents. They divorced when he was young, maybe four or five. Ever since, Sirius, along with his brother, exchange between the households. They've done it so many times. Too many times. Due to financial struggles, both his mother and father have been forced to move countless times. He's switched schools repeatedly, leaving behind friends he has never spoken to again.

With a blank expression, he sets the phone down.

A palm strikes Sirius' behind. "Hey, man."

"Hey," he briefly smiles to reply.

His teammate continues to walk past and goes onto the field. Practice is starting.

Soccer. Once his favorite activity, now is nothing more than a chore. When he was younger, Sirius was constantly showered with praise. Trophies and medals once filled his now arid shelves. Him and his friends would practice together, laughing the entire time. Due to time and moving schools, he has been forced to leave behind his teams, to leave behind the people who made him love the sport, to leave behind his love for the sport. Now, he continues the sport only out of obligation to his father. His enjoyment for the game has dwindled down into obscurity.

While physically in shape, he is rather lean, it's evident his body isn't at peak stamina levels. He's always been fast, ever since he was young, and that has persisted even till now. Any challenger would surely be swept in his dust. Yet his skill at the sport has diminished along with his enthusiasm.

*****

Walking into his father's home, he is immediately bombarded by him.

"You need a haircut."

His father is a sturdy man, with short spiky hair and strong features. His muscles may be tough, but his body has certainly seen better days. Especially his gut. Blue-gray eyes that never appear proud peer down. It's never good enough for him. He's never good enough.

While Sirius acts happy in front of his dad, the truth remains.

He hates him.

Expectations after expectations, and when those expectations are met... there is no reward. While he doesn't know the details fully, Sirius believes his father caused the divorce. His mother is constantly arguing over the phone with him about when Sirius and his brother are there or at her house. His stuck-up attitude, the way he always thinks he's always in the right, the never-ending comments and complaints he has about Sirius...

It's all so... mind-numbing.

Sirius pretends to chuckle, "Yeah, yeah." His dad doesn't waver, instead, he simply leaves the room. Sirius returns to his dead expression.

-I hate you.

Dinner is filled with sounds of silverware clanking. Yellow light from the ceiling coats the wooden dining table. Sirius is seated next to his brother, Canopus. The two brothers couldn't look less alike, yet for some reason, people always comment they look the same. Both of them avoid eye contact with each other. Even their eyes are different colors.

Their father stops his overly loud chewing. He turns to their indignant stepmother, "When are your kids coming back?"

"I believe Thursday," she replies.

Their stepmother always seems ticked off. Looks of disgust for others and pride for herself. She only cares for her children and her image, yet, in front of their father, always acts so loving.

One time, when their father was away for work, she neglected them for four days straight. She left them to cook and find rides to school on their own. Then, on the night of their father's return, staged that Sirius, Canopus, and herself were all playing a board game together.

Her children, Sirius' stepsiblings, are all self-centered as well. With the same blonde hair as their mother, they constantly ask for things from her and Sirius' father. His father, always trying to appear as a good person, never declines. Only feeding to the boys' selfishness.

Their father doesn't seem to recognize that she carries no kindness for Sirius and Canopus. Not that it is a surprise. Not that it matters. Their rotten personalities are a match made in heaven.

"Hey Sirius, why the serious face?" The same stupid joke.

Sirius perks up and shrugs it off with a weak grin. He enables his kind, talkative personality. "Nothing, just spacing off."

"How was practice today?" He doesn't care.

"Pretty good." The same response as always.

"How's the chicken?" Always fishing for compliments.

"Pretty good, I like it." The same old lie.

"I used the smoker today, haven't used it for a while so I wasn't sure how they'd turn up."

"...Nice."

...

His brother, usually conserved to himself, speaks out.

"Today in class we-"

"Put your hood down," the father's voice demands. Canopus is wearing the same outfit from last night. He's likely still grief-ridden over his grandfather's passing. Not that their father cares.

"Why?"

"Do it," he spits. "It's disrespectful." Canopus groans and pulls his hood back, revealing his short, dirty blonde hair that matches his father's. "Don't groan at me, when I tell you to do something, you do it. Got it?"

"...Yes."

Canopus looks down at his plate and starts playing with his chicken. The boy has always been the silent type, gray eyes always wandering into their own world. Sirius and Canopus were always close when they were younger. Being three or so years apart, they always stuck together. Climbing trees, messing around in a creek, catching fireflies...

However, as they grew up, they drifted apart.

Canopus is in middle school and despite his age, always is angry. Especially now, after his favorite person in the world died, he is clearly frustrated.

The boy glances at Sirius, his head still hanging low. His brother isn't watching. Sirius isn't watching. He's never watching.

Sirius has been gazing down the whole time, not involving himself with any of it. The stepmother is clearly unbothered by the change in atmosphere at the table. The father, frustrated with his son, bears a look of annoyance.

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

The rest of dinner is silent.

...

-I hate them.

After taking an overly long, hot shower, Sirius steps out of the steam-filled room and into the hallway. Walking to his room he overhears his father and stepmother arguing, but he tunes it out. It happens all the time.

Canopus stands in the doorway to Sirius' room.

"You good?" Sirius asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Shut up."

Canopus steps out from the doorway and walks down the hall, entering his own room. The boy's face is straight and emotionless. The door closes, leaving Sirius to stare at it for a moment.

"Alrighty then."

Canopus, for some reason, is always looking at Sirius. At random times, if Sirius glances at his brother, chances are, he is glancing back. It's strange but doesn't bother Sirius.

Sirius lies in his bed, staring at the ceiling. He glances at the digital clock in his room. 4:17 AM. He's been lying here for hours.

Nights used to be fun.

He used to stay up late with either his friends or brother all the time. Watching movies, playing games, sneaking snacks out from the kitchen... They would hold their breaths trying not to laugh, trying to avoid waking any parents. Now, nights are nothing more than endless hours in a dark room.

...

Sirius' eyes greet a darkened bedroom. He checks the clock in hope of it being morning. 5:36 AM. He props himself up and sits on the edge of his bed, placing his head in open palms.

-I'm so tired.

He lies back, the room is quiet. Closing his eyes once more, he listens for his heartbeat. Unbearable silence rings in his ears, only his breath momentarily whispers. The pounding in his chest is faint, yet there, nonetheless. The sound is confirmation that he's still here. Still living. I've made it this far. I can keep going.

*****

Waking up. Bumping into my brother. We don't speak. Drive to school. Classes. Lunch. Soccer. I watch my teammates laugh and celebrate. I stay back. I always do. Nothing changes.

Another dinner. The atmosphere of these suppers is always the same. Suffocating. Slightly muffled, the father speaks, "Your grades are slipping, what happened? You used to be a straight A student. You were the smartest in your class."

-In like 4th grade...

"I know, I know, it was just a really hard test." In truth, he doesn't even remember what test they're talking about. School is the same repetitive gauntlet every day. It all blends together.

Canopus butts in, "You're just stupid."

Canopus has always had a knack for insults. Not that they're any good.

The father snaps, "Shut your mouth! We don't use those words. You better stop or I'll knock you out I swear to God."

The atmosphere dampens yet another time. The father's temper is a short fuse. Everything could be perfectly fine, and the next moment the bomb has already exploded. In recent years, that temper has only worsened. Especially around Canopus.

Once again, another dinner is ruined.

Shower, lie awake, sleep, breakfast, school, pretend, dinner, sleep, mess up, lunch, soccer, drive, doodle, lie awake, dinner, shower, drive, mom's house, breakfast, lie, smile.

It blends together. What had I eaten for lunch two days ago? My eyes grow heavier by the day.

Something needs to change.

But nothing ever does.

Shoving his keys into his pocket, Sirius quickly tries to escape out the front door.

"Where are you going?"

"Just hanging out with some guys," Sirius puts on his usual facade.

"Ah, the usual friends?" He somehow seems disinterested now.

"Yeah, see you." Sirius swiftly shuts the door to avoid further confrontation and enters his car. He drives with no destination in mind. The usual friends are just an excuse to escape a while. They don't exist. Headlights color the road he barrels down. Music blasts through the speakers, drowning out any possible thoughts.

Finding a rest stop, he hops out and buys an apple juice with some money his mother gave him a while back. Leaning against the side of his car, he sips his once favorite drink. Now it is flavorless.

Sounds of the night surround him. Cars cruising past, groups of people laughing down the sidewalk, the buzzing of streetlights. Taking it all in leads to introspection...

"What am I doing?"

The days tick endlessly by.

Dribbling down the field, Sirius passes his teammates. He has always been fast. With the goal in sight, he winds back a shot and strikes the ball. It barrels straight into the arms of the keeper. He missed. His fellow teammates let out quiet "awhs", but they don't linger on it.

But Sirius does. He curses himself; you can't even make an easy shot.

Catching his breath, he looks around. No one is watching. They've already moved on. With no witnesses, he walks off the field. He gathers his things and goes to his car. No one has noticed he left.

Sitting quietly in the cramped car, his phone dings. A small sense of hope lingers in the back of his mind, maybe someone noticed. Checking his theory, he picks up the phone.

Father: Don't forget you are coming to my house tomorrow.

No one even noticed.

-I don't want to go home.

He drives to his mother's house and walks through the door. His mother is watching TV with a glass of wine in her hand.

"There's my perfect son!"

-Perfect...

Sirius smiles sullenly, "Hi, Mom."

The sight of his mother always makes him feel bad for her. She doesn't look bad or anything, in fact she is quite pretty, but she always seems stressed out. After the divorce, her financial situation took a turn for the worse. Now a single mother of two with no one to assist her and a poorly paying job, it's easy to see why she is tired. Her job chains her to constant stress, working her most weekends and late nights. Despite everything, she always acts so cheerful around her children.

She pauses her show and sets down her drink, "How was your day?"

"Pretty good, I wasn't really feeling soccer today though."

"Aww, how come? You've always loved soccer."

"I know, I just wasn't feeling very... soccery today."

"Do you remember when you were little you got the ball and ran entirely down the field but forgot to shoot the ball, so you ended up dribbling all the way to the next field over?"

Sirius lets out a forced little chuckle, "Heh, not really." The mentioning of older memories never fails to sadden him.

"Ahh," she lets out a long sigh. "Good times, good times. You were such a funny little man." She gets off her chair and walks over to him. "And now you're my funny big man." She pinches his cheek and scrunches her nose. Sirius gives her a closed-lip smile in return. His mouth feels weighted. She examines his face before smiling herself, "You're such a great kid." She walks back over and falls into her chair.

Sirius holds where she pinched him, his smile slowly fades into a frown.

-Stop it...

No amount of affection makes him feel anything.

He takes off his bag and starts heading upstairs. He passes his brother who is sitting on the steps.

Sirius lies on his bed, staring at the ceiling fan spin.

-I'm so tired.

Floorboards creak and wind rattles the windows. He's lived in this house for years. But it doesn't feel like a home.

Nowhere does.

Holing up in his room only drives his isolation further. His colorless cave is the only retreat from everyone and everything. The ceiling fan that spins and turns is no different than a clock.

Idle days spent rotting in this room. Leaving only leads to wasting away in public. That's worse than corroding alone. So why not decay on his own?

Days, weeks, and even months all meld together. The same routine, the same clothes, the same food... nothing ever changes. Mundane days blink into everlasting nights. The smallest of abnormalities are welcomed with the only shreds of emotion he has to offer.

He puts on his mask in front of family and friends. Pretending that he cares for them. Pretending that he's happy.

The boy has become quite the actor.

*****

Sirius, on his knees, wipes up vomit off the stained wooden floor.

"You alright, buddy?"

He scratches behind the elderly ears of his dog. Being a French Bulldog, his face has always been crinkled. Though in recent years, his age is poking through. The dog's health has been declining since the tumor formed. Despite his age, the ancient dog always acts so youthful.

The dog has been the boy's closest friend for years. Through all the repetitive days, whenever he's at his mother's house, the dog is always there to make him feel a little better.

The dog is one of his mother's random gifts. When Sirius was seven years old, a little over ten years ago, she had brought the dog home in a small shoebox. It stands today as the cutest thing the boy has ever seen.

Sirius finishes cleaning, washes his hands, and heads back into his room. Hours pass in what seems a minute. Mindlessly watching videos on his phone, devoid of any gratification.

His Mom creaks open the door.

The dim light from the hallway seeps into his room. She seems saddened, more than usual at least. Her silhouette stands in the doorway, shaking. While she wears a smile, it's clear what anguish she hides.

"Hey honey," her trembling hand rests on the doorframe. "I... think it's time." Her voice is carpeted with sorrow.

Sirius, Canopus, the dog, and their mother all enter the small car. A silent drive with no radio, only the songs of the city sweeping past. Labored breaths exhaust out the tired hound. The boy's hand brushes against the rough fur.

This is the last drive with him...

The waiting room is quiet.

The haggard dog rests in Sirius' arms, strained breaths shift the canine up and down. The buzzing of grainy ceiling lights is the only thing the boy focuses on. While a tragic scene awaits, he can't help but distract himself. He has never been good at these kinds of moments.

His emotions have been out of tune for so long, that the imminent death of his best friend doesn't register. A lady walks into the room and calls for the family to enter.

The lady explains the details of the injection. She has already given the dog others to put him in a state of calm. He rests relaxed, slow breaths expelling rhythmically. Glazed eyes stare at the family he loves.

The dog, while it had a simple one, enjoyed his long life with them.

Sirius and his mother hold the dog's front paws. Canopus balls himself into the corner, he doesn't want to watch. Another one of his favorite people is going to die.

With a simple injection, the dog's eyelids fall over its damp pupils.

The breathing slows until the open room is filled with nothing but silence. The heart of the loyal companion ceases its march.

With a final expulsion of breath, the dog's life fades from the room.

The quiet whimpers of his mother and brother drub his ears. Tears pour out their saddened ducts. Sirius' eyes remain on the lifeless husk of his friend.

No tears form, no limbs tremble... He remains as still as his friend.

The drive home is once again filled with nothing but sniffles breaking the silence.

Sirius stares out the window, watching the world fly by. No thoughts plague his mind.

Nothing at all.

His mother turns her head toward the boy. She's been doing it the whole car ride, but Sirius has been avoiding her gaze the whole time.

"It's..."

-Don't say it...

"It's okay to cry, Sirius."

Her own tears muffle the words. She had said the same thing after his grandfather passed.

Sirius hangs his head to the bottom of the car floor and nods it silently. He knows it. He wants to cry. He wants to desperately. He hasn't cried in years.

-Why won't you cry, me?

His null emotions only make him degrade himself more. His mother's cries and following words are dissolved into numbing static.

...

...

Sirius no longer wakes up to a tongue on his cheek. Yet, the days remain the same, if not slightly bleaker. The relentless march of time carries him through the days.

The household's aura doesn't differ apart from a more prominent melancholy. His mother and brother haven't spoken a peep of their departed member.

Nothing ever changes.

The act never finishes.

Nights have become worse without the snoring of his friend. The nights are quieter. Lonelier. Day after day the same events play out.

And it always ends with him staring at the ceiling.

*****

Glass shatters.

It comes from downstairs.

The mother is in the kitchen, she's dropped a bottle of wine on the wooden floor. A pool of wine lies with shattered glass floating in its midst.

She calls over to Canopus, "Oh honey, could you go get the broom and a rag?" Canopus jogs over and stares at the wine on the floor, motionless. His mother's head darts from side to side, "Go get the broom and a rag!" Canopus snaps out of his trance and runs off to find the objects.

Sirius, with nothing better to do, sneaks down the stairs to check what happened. His mom calls out to him, "Oh Sirius, sweetie, could you go run to the store and get me some more wine?"

"I don't think I can legally buy wine."

"You're right," she ponders a moment. "Go get me an energy drink or grape juice then."

Sirius lets out a sigh, "Alright, alright. Something to do I suppose..."

"Thank youuuu! Love youuuu!"

"Yeah, yeah."

His mother has always loved wine, or- maybe love isn't the right word. She drinks it almost every day, whether habit or obsession. Amplified even more so by the recent events.

As Sirius ties his shoes, his brother passes him with the broom and a rag. Canopus glares at him. I swear this kid is a super villain.

Sirius ends up walking, with the intent of it taking longer. Anything out of the normal routine is exciting. The night brings a chill, but it feels nice.

He enters a convenience store about two blocks from the house and grabs an energy drink and a bottle of grape juice.

He's always been indecisive.

Leaving the store, he spots his friends from school walking together, laughing. They walk right past him but don't notice he's there. Sirius ignores them and proceeds to the street crossing.

He doesn't bother waiting for the signal, no cars are around. While crossing the street, the plastic bag he's carrying the beverages in tears apart. The grape juice and energy drink fall out of the sack.

-At least it wasn't wine.

Bending to pick up the drinks, Sirius is illuminated by headlights. He peers in the direction of the beams, only to realize their breakneck approach. Instinctively, he starts to scramble away but slips over the energy drink can, onto the asphalt.

Desperately trying to stand, his body is slammed into headlights. Glass splinters and plunges through his fractured arm. His body ragdolls and the world turns sideways. He is pinned to the floor, and in an instant, his lungs are crushed under the weight of a barreling truck. Vivid colors zip by, his bleeding ears fill with the sound of his concaving ribs crunching. The shock alone numbs the pain.

But only for a moment.

The back tires unfold a second assault. His left arm snaps backward and his torso indents further in. His legs twist to opposite sides and tire prints embed themselves onto his mangled clothing and skin. The pain is sharp, agonizing. Metallic scents storm his nostrils, not from the truck but from himself.

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A pool of blood lies with shattered glass floating in its midst.

Sirius grudgingly raises his head; it feels so heavy on his twisted neck. He stares at his mutilated middle half, dumbfounded. A thick liquid trickles from the corners of his lips. Waves of panic wash over, but not from the sight...

He can't breathe. Gasping for any morsel of air is met with failure.

It all starts going black.

-Am I dying? It hurts. It hurts. It hurts.

Barrages of faint lights and sounds overwhelm his senses. Everything grows cold, despite lying in a puddle of warmth. His frantic thoughts thin out into blank silence.

His head falls back onto the red-stained road.

The boy closes his eyes.

-------

Sirius' eyes greet an unfamiliar ceiling.

He blinks multiple times to adjust to the room's lights.

-What the hell just happened?

He tries to sit up but is physically incapable. His eyes dart down to his body.

Tubes run through his nose and chest, connecting to a machine on the right. His arms and legs are casted and propped up. That's when it occurs, everything hurts. He starts hyperventilating again.

-I can't breathe. Am I going to be in a hospital for the rest of my life? It hurts. It hurts.

Pain medications sit on the table beside him. Did they even work? My body is throbbing.

His mother comes rushing over, he hadn't even realized she was there. Her eyes are red, she's definitely been crying. "Oh, Sirius!" she leans in to hug him but restrains herself. If she hugs me, I'll probably snap in half. She starts crying out of joy, "...You... lost so much blood." Her sniffling interrupts her sentence. "I was so worried, I'm so glad you're alive."

He doesn't feel the same, instead, he feels guilty. Even in gut-wrenching pain, he feels guilty.

-I'm sorry for making you worry.

The father emerges in front of Sirius, he hadn't notice him either.

"Finally, you're up," the man forces a smile. Yeah, that's real endearing.

"What happened...?" Sirius' voice is grave and raspy. It tickles his sore throat.

The mother answers, "You got hit by a truck. Your legs are broken, and your... lungs are severely damaged." She's trying her best to hold back tears. She has never had a kid experience such a horrible accident. In fact, Sirius and Canopus have never needed to go to the hospital since they were babies.

"My lungs..."

"Yes, they said you won't be able to breathe on your own anymore," she chokes. "So that's why... that's why you are hooked up to this machine. It helps you breathe. The driver is paying for everything and even left a gift basket over there."

On a table by the window sits a large woven basket full of 'get well soon' imagery.

-At least you don't have to pay anything...

"How long have I been out?"

Thoughts of what his life will be like from now on rush across his mind. Will I ever leave this hospital? If not, what's even the point of living anymore? Why keep me here?

The boy hasn't thought of a point to his life in years. He doesn't even want his life. But he can't say that. How do you tell the people who brought you into this world, that you don't want to be apart of it anymore?

Especially now... his mother's been through too much.

"About a day or so, but you're going to have to stay here for... a while."

"Just when soccer season started too," his father blurts.

"Oh, shut up! That should not be your concern right now!" His parents start bickering back and forth.

Sirius catches a glimpse of his brother sitting in the corner of the room. His father's remark doesn't even surprise him.

A faint knock on the door is followed by a nurse entering the room. She kindly asks everyone to leave the room. They all do as they're told, Canopus stalking Sirius as he exits the room.

The nurse examines Sirius, asking him questions that seem to have no end.

-While the setting has changed, my life continues to bear repetitiveness. Day after day, it's the same questions, the same doctors and nurses. Mom comes to visit every day, apparently, she quit drinking wine. And grape juice and energy drinks for that matter. She feels responsible. She shouldn't.

It's my fault.

They've increased my dosage, I feel numb. The pain is minimal, but I can't feel anything. Nothing at all. Canopus sits in the corner each time mom or dad visits. He hasn't spoken a word to me since the accident. I suppose I haven't spoken a word to him either.

My dad hadn't cried when it happened, neither had I. Would he if I died?

No one. Not a single person other than my immediate family has said anything. Maybe if I died somebody would care.

I noticed that this is the same hospital room my grandpa died in. I had almost forgotten. It might have happened in this very bed.

Probably not.

The days seem longer. Though, that's probably just because I lie in bed all day. In theory, I could sleep but, I've never been good at falling asleep. Instead, I watch the same cable channels on the hospital-provided TV.

It's mind-numbing.

My eyelids are so heavy it's hard to keep them open, but they just won't close. They refuse to. I refuse to let them.

I'm so tired.

"Saiph?"

A nurse asks his mother to leave for the night. Sirius almost forgot that is her name. Had the nurse and his mother gotten close over these weeks without him realizing?

His mother had been telling him a story from her work, but Sirius wasn't listening. He tuned out the whole conversation. His mind was going blank. It has been about a month. All words spoken to him are nothing more than static.

His mother stands in the doorway and smiles gently.

"I love you, honey."

Sirius doesn't respond.

Her words ring hollow in his ears.

His mother leaves the room along with the nurse. As the door shuts, Sirius is left with the insistent beeping of the machine. The sound has been engrained into his brain; he's heard it nonstop for weeks.

A small shuffle on the other side of the room catches his attention.

Canopus is still there. He's sitting behind the door; they must not have seen him. Canopus stands up, he appears hesitant.

"What are you doing?" Sirius mutters in his raspy voice.

Canopus slowly advances towards him.

"You... you always have that stupid look on your face, like you have something to be sad about," Canopus' voice is cracking. Sirius examines the boy with knitted brows. "It's always... always about you. What makes you so special?"

Canopus stalks his cripplied brother. They both sit in silence, Sirius lays his head back on the pillow.

"Nothing. There's nothing special about me. I don't get it either."

"You're always in your own world, never paying attention to anyone else." He lets out a small giggle. "You must be in love with yourself." Canopus walks behind the bed Sirius is rotting on. There is a shuffling.

"What? No... I... don't love myself."

pluck

The sound of a plug being ripped out of socket.

All in an instant, the room feels heavier.

It's getting harder to breathe. Sirius can't breathe.

He gasps desperately but nothing enters his lungs.

Canopus, his brother, steps back in horror. A wave of guilt washes over his features. A faint "sorry" leaves his lips.

Sirius grasps his throat with casted hands; it feels like he's being strangled. His vision blurs as he sees his brother's shape continuing to back away. He feels his eyeballs could pop out at any second.

Fear swarms his mind in a violent flurry. He values his life little, but this... Is this really happening?

An anxious smile morphs his face. He wished for change, but this isn't what he meant.

With all the breath he can muster, Sirius croaks, "Wait- why- please stop, I don't... want to... die. Not like this, please- I'm... sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry-"

The phrase repeatedly escapes his dying body.

Desperately trying to move, his crippled body doesn't allow it. He can't squirm, can't run, can't breathe... he can't do anything. An overwhelming weight of hopelessness stabs him through his sunken heart.

As his "sorries" get slower and less frequent, images of his life play out before him. Random snippets he doesn't recognize.

A gray cat on a stairwell; his cold breath visible on a cool morning; climbing a tree; nothing notable. Nothing special, just everyday things, yet they look beautiful. Vibrant colors, sun flares. A city skyline, a broken bike, an aged hand holding his as a baby...

His life is flashing before his eyes.

His continuous "sorries" trickle out until his vision blackens.

Words no longer release from the husk. The flatline of the monitor grows deaf to his bleeding ears.

The last traces of air leave the boy's lungs. His brain starved of oxygen, shuts down.

The faint light in his eyes goes out, as his breathless body stares at the ceiling.

The boy has died.