DAYS BLENDED TOGETHER UNDER close supervision from social workers. The House Lead maintained a strict schedule. They claimed it provided structure. A pretty way of saying they controlled their lives.
Get up, get dressed, eat breakfast, go to school, back to the house, dinner, then bed. Rinse repeat.
Every day for the last three months. Santiago could do it in his sleep if he needed to sometimes it felt like he did.
Santiago witnessed dozens of boys transfer out of the house nearly overnight when he arrived, Dr. Thompson told him it would be the same for him. That it was only temporary while a suitable foster was arranged for him or until his family came forward.
Around him steam swirled densely as the immense water pressure from the busted showerhead affixed to fake plastic tiles poured down on him.
Why hadn’t his mother stepped forward? Every attempt to contact her led to the same dead ends. Without his phone he couldn’t recall Alejo, Jésus, or Lola’s numbers to see if they knew where his mother was so she could rescue him from this monotonous nightmare.
A trio of muffled voices filtered through the hollow corridor that separated the closet sized bathroom he shared with his roommate Alex. Two of the voices he recognized immediately, and another he couldn’t recall hearing.
“Hey give my phone back!” Alex shouted
“Hell no, you snuck this bitch in and you’re not even looking at porn on it,” Wes hollered back, his voice stuck out amongst all of the boy’s most. There was a distinct gravel to it, his normal speaking voice sounded strained and forced into a higher octave. When Wes shouted, it shook windows and boomed deeply in his chest like rolling thunder warning of forming tornadoes.
“When I showed you the video I didn’t say take my phone and look at titties! Give it back before Bennett shows up man!” Alex’s shrill voice sounded like mosquitos with the way it filtered through the running shower.
Santiago stepped out from the column of boiling water and wrapped himself up tightly in a nearby towel. Leaving the water running he silently clicked the lock into place. The mystery boy stayed silent aside from an occasional scoff.
“Why the fuck would I wanna look at bodies being dragged into a hospital?” Wes volleyed, “you got everything on google to look at and your dumb ass is on reddit.”
“Look! Just look at it! It’s not the same body! I’m telling you someone swapped the bodies!”
“Motherfucker I am not staring at bodies just because you like a cold one wrapped around your dick doesn’t mean anyone else is into that.”
“Why would anyone steal a body?” The third boy asked, “Alex, stay off reddit. Don’t make me tell Thompson you snuck that in here.”
Alex gasped dramatically, and the sound of a thumping scuffle ricocheted closer and closer to the door. Instinctively Santiago took a step back, pushing a chunk of soaked coal curls from his eyes, “You wouldn’t do that Eli!”
“I will if you don’t get off this shit, it’s rotting your brain. Literally. You attacked our math teacher because you thought she had something to do with Pizzagate,” Eli explained, the exhaustion in his words made the boy eavesdropping feel tired for him.
“Real shit?” Wes asked, “you one of them QAnons?”
“No! But she had something to do with it! She’s around kids all day! Shopping! For ki-“
“There wasn’t even a basement at that location Alex,” Eli interrupted.
More sounds of hitting and wrestling thundered, following strings of curses. Deep triumphant cackling echoed thunderously followed by muffled cursing, Santiago guessed Wes won the match.
“Fucking crazy ass. Who the fuck steals bodies?” He asked again.
“Black Lives Matters! They’re in league with communists to turn this country Socialist! They staged that police shooting and then used some other kid’s body to make it look like they killed some kid!”
Eli groaned, “for the last time Alex. Black Lives Matter is a movement to end police violence. Not encourage it and fabricate more dead kids.”
“It’s true! Look! Look at it! Why else would protestors loot the same hospital? If not to place the body!”
“I think you need a room with more padding,” Wes mumbled, stomping out of the room, “Aye! Mother Goose!” The boy shouted vanishing down the hall.
“Protestors did not attack the hospital. They have never done that.” Said Eli.
“They did! It’s real! Unlike that body! Why’re there no body cams then if the shooting is real?!”
“Since when do the cops incriminate themselves? — You know what. I’ve had it with your shit,” Eli replied. The sound of a window sliding open shuttered near the bathroom door.
“No! No don’t you d-“ Alex’s protests were cut off by the sound of him screaming at the top of his lungs and muffled arguing from downstairs.
As Eli’s light footsteps faded, Santiago emerged from the bathroom after turning off the water, “What happened?” He asked, feigning ignorance while his roommate sobbed against the window ledge.
“They fucking threw my phone out the window because they don’t want to know the truth! And that is the government is being overrun with elites to destroy this country and sell kids!”
Santiago nodded, attempting with every ounce of his self-control to maintain a concerned expression. “Well that sucks.”
That was the third phone in a month Alex snuck in, only to have it confiscated by Bennett or Thompson. Or to subsequently have another boy smash it in a brawl while trying to steal it for their own personal reasons. How Alex kept sneaking these phones was beyond Santiago.
He ignored his roommate’s dramatic wailing and calls from Dr. Thompson, to see Alex for a moment. Santiago continued about his business of putting himself together. This consisted of spending all of his time and energy on an elaborate skin routine from the cramped faux-porcelain sink with a mirror the size of a bagel while ignoring his wild mess of curls entirely. Once his skin was clear and smooth he stepped from the bathroom to finish getting ready with the only thing of value he owned.
Santiago glanced down at the small oak-veneer side table, the only thing that greeted him were dozens of water-stain rings. Plopping clumsy steps sounded up the wooden stairs just beyond their doorway.
The teen tilted his head towards his roommate as he stepped out of their shared bathroom. “You see my chain?”
Alex shrugged, “No.”
Santiago did a once over of his own bed; a quick glance underneath it, peeled back the sheets, even lifted the mattress. Then the drawers. Then the closet. Then the restroom.
Nothing.
He ignored the boy’s complaints as he rifled through his things. It wasn’t much, half a dozen all black shirts, a couple of pairs of stained denim jeans, with far less socks and underwear than a boy should own.
Each room was arranged and decorated with what looked like old dorm room furniture; with twin beds shoved into parallel corners of the room with sheets so tightly tucked in it would bring joy to a drill sergeant. Accompanying single-drawer nightstands that needed fresh coats of stain from all of the years of water staining were stationed at every bedside.
“What the hell man I didn’t take your shit!” Alex shoved him barely budging the boy.
Santiago swung Alex around by a vice-like grip on his shirt slamming him into the wall. The kid was lanky with eyes too big for his face. He was taller than Santiago, but he did not feel like it at that moment.
The two locked eyes with each other for an uncomfortably long time. Both of them refused to blink or glance away. Santiago studied their every movement in hopes the boy might betray himself with a split second glance elsewhere. Underneath his fists he could feel Alex's chest trembling.
Santiago remained silent. He relented and turned his attention back to the bed, flipping the mattress with little effort.
Nothing but a few discarded candy bar wrappers. His deep mossy eyes scanned over the pilling carpets for any clue as he grumbled under his breath. There were light impressions in front of the nightstand on his roommate’s side of the room.
Alex leaned out the door and hollered for the staff. Santiago continued his search, now digging through the nightstand. Inside the garbage heap of discarded candy wrappers and partially used boxes of condoms. He found a few severely battered notebooks.
His own curiosity drove him to flip through the pages. The notebooks were mostly barren aside from some journal entries Santiago intentionally avoided reading. He threw the notebook back into the drawer turning around to see their designated den mother, Bennett.
“Santiago! You can’t go rifling through people’s personal belongings.” Said Bennett.
Bennett’s commanding presence put the boys on alert. Everything about the man was big. His stature and especially his voice filled an entire room. When he really got going they could hear him clear across the street. The older black man’s clothes tightly adhered to him almost ready to burst at the seams from another unreasonable amount of muscles, and tight fitting fatigues tucked into combat boots told the boys he served time in the military.
Anyone who tried to badger him about it or asked about it, received the same polite but curt responses that he would not talk about it with them. Everyone wondered which branch, Santiago leaned on the guess of Army or Marines. He was far too organized and tidy to be chair force and did not have the lackadaisical energy naval men carried. Even if he did not say anything, his rigid posture and way he marched about the house made it feel like bootcamp.
Unlike some of the other adults in the home, at any time Bennett’s stern features could instantly morph into an almost Santa Claus like jolliness. When he laughed it rolled like ocean waves and carried the sunshine of summer in its notes.
Unlike Thompson however, he lacked textured coils. Instead Bennett had a completely bare scalp. Truthfully, the thought of him with any hair other than bald made Santiago want to laugh. The stiff-bald look suited his deep starry midnight complexion, and chiseled square jawline.
“Maybe you should tell that to them.” Santiago raised his voice for smug onlookers to hear. “Someone took my chain.”
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
“Relax-”
Santiago shrugged off the hand on his shoulder. “Don’t touch me, man.”
“Really this is how you want to kick off the weekend?” Alex groaned, rolling his eyes with an aggravated yet dramatic sigh. The boy’s voice grated his nerves, with its nasally high-pitched squeal.
Bennett looked at the boy who took a step forward holding his arms out in challenge, “You will, or I will.”
Bennett shook his head. “Clear the floor!”
The boys cussed as they headed back to their rooms. His roommate leaned back against the pale flat-painted wall outside their bedroom, a rumbling stampede sounded up the steps as the staff flooded onto the upper floor.
“Room checks!” Bennett boomed. He muttered something to the other staff who started rounds.
Santiago stood watch as the staff entered each room. Among them, was a caregiver with a warm smile and gentle demeanor, Maria. Her voice carried the rhythmic cadence of their shared mother tongue, offering comfort and reassurance in moments of distress.
She reminded him of Guadelupe making Santiago very intolerant of any of the rowdy boys giving her a difficult time. The only difference between her and Guadelupe was where his mother was pale and rail thin, Maria was the color of warm sandstone with dark chestnut waves that flowed freely and vibrantly against her full-heart shaped face.
Leon was another Seattle native, a younger Chinese man with an unshakeable calm despite his slim build he had a strong presence. No doubt from years of dealing with troubled teens and being one himself. His attire covered most but not all of the tattoos that crept out from under his sleeves and neckline telling a story many of them knew too well. Many times Santiago watched one of the new boys try to get a rise out of him only to be sent away with their tail tucked between their legs from his basilisk glare.
The way Leon walked and carried himself activated a part of Santiago he did not know he had. Deep it down made him want to test the man. The sensible part of him warned him against it from the serious and cold look in his eyes.
Unlike Bennett this man had no sense of humor and treated the halls as though it were a war-zone. Considering he opted for all black and wore nearly the same style of clothing as Bennett, the boy guessed he must have been an officer previously. There were a few times he heard the man call them juveniles.
Santiago was not as familiar with the others. They never stuck around long enough. The staff rotated from the other houses about every two weeks like clockwork save for the three he knew by name.
Sometimes Santiago witnessed staff meltdowns where they screamed they could not take it anymore and needed to work with real children, not demons. A few rare times he heard staff whispering to each other about no-call-no-shows or terrible excuses for absences.
Lined up single file against the wall, the boys got patted down one by one.
Leon’s charges complained the least of the lot of them. Santiago took a mental note of the foolish boys who blew kisses to Maria as she wearily went about her duties. Of course they would, any teen boy who saw a woman with more curves than their hormone riddled brains knew what to do with all sense went out the window. It didn’t matter if she showed no interest. They took her kindness and voluptuous form to be invitation enough.
There was a newer staff member whose hands lingered a bit too long for Santiago’s liking. Peculiar older blond man with bottle cap glasses. They mockingly called him Jeffrey Dauhmer so often none of them remembered his name.
“Hey, hey what’s going on?” Thompson trotted up the steps, his dark leather loafers clacked distinctly against the wood, “Come on I thought we talked about this. These checks are demeaning.”
“If they kept their hands to themselves it wouldn’t be an issue. If they're stealing they need to be held accountable.” Bennett’s pudgy hands rested on his portly hips. Man was husky but Santiago knew he was stacked under all that blubber. He had seen him pull two of these kids in a scrap up like a mother cat does her kittens.
“This is supposed to be a home not a prison!” Thompson reiterated for what felt like the thousandth time, “You didn’t even ask the boys before invading their space.“
Thompson gestured towards the room with his entire hand, swinging his arm out to the side. The two of them packed into the narrow hallway with the old veteran staring down at the young caseworker while he gestured wildly in the crowded hallway.
Thompson was like a mother hen squaring up on a Rottweiler. As much as Thompson being hated known as the Mother Hen, the man certainly earned the nickname.
It wasn’t supposed to be a prison yet their every waking moment was dictated down to the hour. It was not a prison but they were not allowed to leave without supervision or a sign off.
There were cameras in the halls and every room save for the bathrooms. Even outside cameras on every corner of the property watching both the streets and the courtyard.
“They are not going to admit they stole something.” Said Bennett.
Santiago and Bennett’s expressions of exhaustion and disbelief mirrored one another.
Thompson looked at him pointedly firmly placing both of his thin hands on his hips.
Bennett let out a dry laugh. “Alright boys, did any of you come across a chain? Anyone see anything? Got anything they would like to share? Now’s the time.”
He received a few snickers, though mostly silence.
Santiago glanced over his shoulder, watching Leon and Maria tag-team searching the room. They overturned the mattresses he tossed aside carefully feeling along the sides and bottoms for fresh cuts in the materials. Backpacks and drawers were dumped out then systematically sorted and organized.
Leon lifted a thin brow as he pulled a hidden adult-magazine from beneath a false bottom in the drawer. Maria frowned slightly at the find only to cast those warm whiskey-toned eyes towards Dr. Thompson who shook his head. The search continued as they failed to find any other hidden treasures in the room.
“Everything looks clear.” Said Leon.
Bennett pinched his brow, muttering something under his breath.
Thompson smiled. “If you look for the worst in people, you’ll find it.”
Santiago leaned out the door, “You check their shoes?”
Both men looked at him and then at each other.
“Shoes!” Bennett hollered as he waved the group along like a conductor.
Some kicked their shoes off in a huff making Maria have to gather up a few strays that had tumbled across the floor. Before she could reach another pair of high-top sneakers in varying states of distress, Leon had begun methodically dumping out every pair before tossing them aside.
Thompson crossed his arms tightly over his chest about to lay into the man when Leon raised his hand. “Got it.”
The boys burst out laughing.
Thompson shook his head disapprovingly, “Wes, you owe Santiago an apology.”
“Are you serious?” Wes snorted, “Alright.”
Wes, stood at least six inches taller than Santiago with cropped sandy-brown hair. Whenever the boy looked at anyone, he stared down the end of his nose with a sharp piercing gaze that reminded Santiago of a feral tom cat. Maybe it was hatred rolling around in that pale-grassy gaze, or conversely, was a terminal level of apathy. Truthfully he could not think of a single time that those wide-set eyes weren’t drooping.
He crossed the hall towards where they stood, Wesley paused beside the other staff members. A crooked smirk spread across his thin-angular face.
“Wesley!” Bennett had not even finished before the boy snatched the chain and barreled down the stairs.
Santiago shoved past to fly after him.
The rest of the boys hooted and hollered trailing hot on their heels.
The staff attempted wrangling in a few of them. They were outnumbered eight to their four with teens twice their size in most of their cases. Bennett radioed for back up as they followed the wild pack of boys.
Wesley sprinted across the manicured laws of the gated community. Faces popped out of the windows as they passed. The pale faces that looked on were identical and shared the same bug eyed expression from their perfectly identical homes with American flags hanging on the wrap around concrete porches. More of the boys opened up the windows to egg them along.
As they neared the back wall of the cul de sac it became clear what his plan was. Wesley intended to fling Santiago’s jewelry into the surrounding densely packed woods never to be seen again amidst the lush underbrush of ferns and thick shrubbery. The sun hung low casting a muddied pale golden light on tightly packed trees illuminating faded emerald leaves against muggy overcast skies.
Wesley’s mistake was stopping to wind up.
Santiago tackled him to the ground. They skid across the concrete drive.
Santiago stood up leaving Wes laid out stomping over the boy's glasses with a smug sense of pride as they cracked beneath his feet, he plucked the chain from the floor.
Wes clambered to his feet in a fit of rage snatching up a brick that framed the rose garden in front of the home.
“WES, NO!“ Bennett’s voice boomed.
Santiago turned in time for the brick to smash into his frontal lobe. Rung his ears like a bell, vision blotted out. A blur of the gray cement and strip of lawn came into view.
Wesley stood over him, bashing the brick into his left temple before he had a chance to block, the crack sounded like lightning ringing through the air.
Santiago swung his leg striking the side of his knee. The brick flew, replaced by fists as they slugged it out in the driveway.
Half a dozen sets of hands forced the boys apart.
“Enough!” Bennett’s sweat dripped from his brow, “Take Wes to 6. Santiago back to 4.”
Leon took charge of Wes, though the boy seemed entirely unphased unlike the others. The boy offered almost bloodthirsty grins to the man who ignored his attempts to break free. Of all of the boys in this home, Wes stood out as unique. Nothing seemed to scare him. The misery of others brought him genuine joy. The few fights that broke out with him at the center always ended up with someone hospitalized.
As lean as Wes appeared, the boy carried the strength of a power-lifting champion. Every last hit felt as though he were being kicked by a donkey. Something Wes delighted in.
Only a few nights ago Santiago witnessed the boy who seemed to permanently live in parkas no matter the weather, antagonize Alex into a brawl just to leave him so bruise riddled he looked like a grape. For every stiff limb and whine of agony, Wes responded with delighted laughter revealing his perfectly aligned stark-white teeth.
“It’s all good Santiago, we’ll handle this on the outside. Come visit me I’ll be posted up at your place, homie.” Wesley sneered pale skin was splotchy from the bruises that had begun to form. Leon's arms clamped across the boy's chest forcing him back. “Don’t worry I’ll keep your mama company.”
Santiago lurched forward throwing the staff to the ground in a tangled mess of limbs. Bennett caught him by the arm and another meaty palm clamped around the back of his neck.
Santiago growled furiously as he was pinned up against the metal garage door.
Beyond Bennett, Wes continued to grin. His eyes alight with sadism and calculations. Every last move Santiago made those cold eyes remained fixed on him.
“He’s trying to goad you, kid. Ignore him. The only thing it’s going to do is get you sent back to Juvie.” Bennett growled in his ear low enough only he could hear. Santiago had been doing so good it ate at Bennett to think it would all go down the drain over a degenerate like Wes.
Santiago's eyes clenched shut as he tried to level his breathing. His blood was boiling. Heart pounded in his ears.
He knew what Bennett said was true.
He didn’t want to be here. He wanted to go home.
That was it.
Santiago asked himself if stomping Wesley’s face in was worth losing the only chance of going home.
“Word on the street is she likes it rough, I’ll slap her around a bit before I give her this dick!”
His blood boiled like hot kerosene and Wes struck a match. Santiago ignited with the intensity of a wildfire.
He screamed, launching from the garage door, metal crunched under his palms.
“Santiago!” Bennett called.
His voice sounded miles away.
Swinging his arm back Santiago’s elbow struck the older man in the ribs.
Santiago charged at Wes flinging aside any caregiver attempting to separate them, bodies flailed in the air like ragdolls.
Wes tried to fight him. A couple hits and he realized something was not right.
He started to back off, Santiago would not relent.
A handful of boys jumped in swinging at Santiago. A flurry of kicks and fists drummed into his back and sides in chaotic unison.
It should have hurt. It did not.
Flames devoured him from within, sanity and awareness reduced to ash.
Every blow sent an electric shot of adrenaline making the world around him warp into a blur of colors and muffled heart beats.
Thompson gaped at the display.
Boys splayed out across the lawn in bloodied piles as though it were the beaches of Normandy, their wounded groans and cries rang out in an agonized symphony.
Santiago’s bloodied knuckles dripped, hanging limply at his sides.
He panted, turning his gaze heavenward, shadowed behind the curls that stuck to his face with sweat and blood.
“Santiago.” Dr Thompson murmured.
The boy's head tilted in his direction and his blood ran cold.
Darkness devoured his eyes, consuming everything except for glimmering silver rings.
Thompson froze in place as the boy sauntered over to him. A lopsided grin pulled at his lips revealing blood-stained teeth.
Thompson’s thoughts begged him to scream, but his lungs and throat failed him. Unable to stumble backwards or tear his eyes from the scene. His heart hammered harder with every step the boy took.
Santiago shambled forward, each passing step grew more unsteady until his balance failed, sending him face first into the grass with a heavy hollow thump.