*Ten years earlier*
*Lewis Center, Ohio – 9:47 PM*
I pushed a final mouthful of mashed potatoes around my plate, avoiding Aunt Mathilde's overly insistent gaze. The fork scraped against the porcelain, a sound that drilled into my temples. Since their return from vacation, the atmosphere had been... stifling. As if their kindness was an additional weight to bear.
"Have you been taking your medication regularly?" she asked, her eyebrows slightly furrowed.
I looked up, a flat smile already in place. An automatic, rehearsed response.
"Yes, Auntie."
Uncle Hernandez set down his napkin, exchanging a glance with her. I hated this silence.
"If something's wrong, don't hesitate, Kaiser. You can tell us anything," she insisted, her voice gentle.
I clenched my teeth. *'No, I can't.'* Not when your eyes shine with that pity.
"Yeah, but I'm really fine."
I lowered my head, staring at the tablecloth's patterns. Flowers. My mother loved flowers.
*A scream. Blood on her face. Her fingers still trembling.*
I blinked. *Breathe.* The medication was supposed to block these images. But sometimes, they slipped through anyway.
"So, what have you been up to all this time?" Uncle Hernandez asked, changing the subject with forced optimism.
I shrugged.
"You know... Nothing special. Listening to music, reading some anatomy pages."
Aunt Mathilde sighed, her maternal gaze heavy.
"You should take it easy. And your friend group, what was it called again?"
A fake smile. She knew very well what they were called. She just wanted me to talk.
"The Hardy Boys!" Uncle Hernandez exclaimed, laughing as if it were the joke of the century.
I forced a laugh. That stupid name... Hugo came up with it. After being rejected for the umpteenth time, he declared, dramatically: "We should be tough guys. Guys who don't care about heart stuff."
Me, I didn't care about "heart stuff" already. So I nodded, as usual.
The rest of dinner proceeded with small talk. Their vacation memories, landscapes, restaurants... I nodded intermittently, an actor playing his part.
"You should go to bed early tonight. Tomorrow's a school day," Aunt Mathilde reminded me as she collected the dishes.
"Yeah, I was already sleepy," I lied.
I climbed the stairs, their "Goodnight!" echoing behind me like an overly cheerful echo.
It's not that I didn't like them. After all, they were the only family I had left. They'd always been there for me since the tragedy. My mother dying before my eyes, I developed a sort of traumatic psychosis. I saw and heard strange things. I was literally going crazy, if not for the antipsychotics and antidepressants for my recurring nightmares.
I felt almost like a burden to them. But since they had no children, they always considered me their own son.
At least I was good in school. Which helped me not feel totally embarrassed in their presence.
*Click*
I entered my obviously empty room, with its monotonous appearance. It generally included a single bed, two desks with chairs, shelves for books and personal items, and a wardrobe and drawers for clothing storage. The walls were often decorated with posters of my favorite artist and windows for natural moonlight.
A soft melody escaped from my AirPods, drowning out the oppressive silence of the room. A deep bass vibrated against my skull, giving me a strange floating sensation. I stared at the ceiling, following the irregular paint patterns with an empty gaze.
Then a vibration on my mattress brought me back to reality.
*Hardy Boys / Toxic Boys*
*'Yeah... The group's name was pretty embarrassing.'*
The group chat displayed several notifications.
[Yuki]: Meet at HQ, niggas.
[Hugo]: Will there be girls?
[Hassan]: There never have been, why would there be now?
[Me]: No, too tired. I need sleep.
[Ben]: You're always grumpy.
[Carter]: He's being all mysterious. That damn junkie.
[Me]: I'm just on antidepressants, does that make me a crackhead, you son of a bitch?
[Yuki]: I confirm, you're a damn crackhead!
[Ben]: Luckily there'll be beer to calm you down. I'd be afraid that junkie would stab us to death.
I clenched my jaw. *'Those damn bastards.'*
[Hugo]: It's been a while since we all got together. Now that we're all back in town, we need to meet up.
[Me]: We'll see each other tomorrow, there's school.
[Hassan]: I'm already on my way, I'll pick you up.
I sighed.
[Me]: Yeah…
I dropped my phone on the bed before getting up.
"I should take my meds, but I'll be too drowsy."
At that moment, a blinding light flashed through my window followed by a small *beep* of a car horn. Hassan was already downstairs, impatient. It wasn't the first time he showed up like that.
I dragged my feet, put on my jacket, and quietly descended the stairs to avoid alerting Uncle Hernandez and Aunt Mathilde. Once outside, the fresh air woke me up slightly.
Hassan was leaning against his black Ford F-150 Raptor, arms crossed, a smirk on his face.
"I see you're all here," I said, noticing the rest of the group a few feet away.
"And we all saw how you came down like a girl," Hugo quipped with his usual mocking tone.
I raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"
Hugo, a Caucasian with messy hair, a casual demeanor, always talking about girls he'd never get. Next to him, Ben, a mixed-race guy with curly blonde hair, still wearing his black neck warmer, acting like Kakashi since he started reading Naruto.
And then Yuki… That damn Yuki. An Asian with locks pretending to be African-American. Even his tan seemed suspicious.
"Alright, let's go, guys," Ben said, opening the truck door.
I got in the back while Hassan started the engine.
"Watch out for the seats, it's a Ford F-150 Raptor!" he declared proudly.
Carter, a rather scrawny African-American sitting next to me, snickered. "What do your parents do again? I hope they're not in the organ-selling business?"
Hassan rolled his eyes. "Yeah, there are frozen livers in the cooler in the back."
Everyone burst out laughing.
The ride lasted barely ten minutes. The streets were quiet at this hour, the lampposts casting a yellow glow on the asphalt.
Our "HQ" was nothing more than a dilapidated wooden shack, hidden in a small wood on the outskirts of town. We'd built it four years ago with planks stolen from an abandoned construction site. It was our sanctuary, the place where we could be ourselves without adults bothering us.
Hassan cut the engine, and we got out of the pickup. The smell of damp earth and rotten wood hung in the air. Ben opened the creaky door, and the inside lit up under the light of an old bulb hanging from the ceiling.
A few mattresses were scattered on the floor, a rather expensive TV sat on a rickety table, and a console rested next to a mini-fridge filled with cheap beer.
Hugo immediately grabbed a can and raised it like a toast.
"To our damn return!"
The others took some too, except me. I sat in a corner, hands crossed, staring at the black TV screen.
"And you, Kaiser, did you become a monk or what?" Yuki asked, sitting next to me.
"I just don't feel like it, that's all."
Ben snickered. "Still as annoying."
"So, how were the vacations, niggas?" Yuki asked with a smirk.
"You can shut up, Kaiser. We all know you did nothing but think about Linsey and snort coke, ahahah!"
I raised an eyebrow. "Since when do I snort coke? And don't overuse the N-word, dude."
The other burst out laughing without responding.