Kenneth's blood was ice. He couldn't move. Nor could he feel the heat that should've been seeping from her hands into his. Then again, there was never any warmth in those hands. Only the hot sting of her fist and palm across his face and back. He shivered and tried to muster up words, strength, anything. His fingers curled into his palm and he jerked his hand back finally. He pulled it close to his chest and inched back as he struggled to sit up. His hands and feet were slipping among the blankets and he struggled but managed to shy back. 

Still, she came forward. Rising from her chair, his mother cocked her head to one side and took a seat on the edge of the bed. Her hands didn't leave her lap, but her eyes leaned in towards him as she smiled. He wondered if there was venom behind her lips, waiting to be spat in his face. How many more scars could she leave?

How many more scars would she leave?

His back arched as he drew his knees to his chest and coughed. His fingers dug into the soft flabby flesh of his underused legs and he bared his teeth. "Go away." Surely she had to. There was the restraining order--

Kenneth mentally chided himself. He'd signed to void the restraining order for her financial support. He'd signed it all away because he was dying and he couldn't live without her money getting him those lungs. Why had he done it? His eyes darted around the space around her. No robots were in the room. There should be at least one, right? They could see the history, the reports, the files and all the accounts of abuse-related injuries in his medical files. The restraining order alone should be a dead giveaway.

They don't care. He shivered and leaned more into his knees at the thought, knowing it was true. They didn't care. He alone had no money, and she had all of the money. Why should they care if he ended up bruised and battered? They were no better than all the juries and judges that had refused to do anything for kids like him in the past. 

Turning, she tilted her head to one side, questioning him with her eyes. 

Kenneth pressed his lip together and kept to his corner of the bed. She wasn't coming any closer right now, but if she did--his eyes skipped to the metal food tray--he'd be prepared. He could fight. He'd fought off those guards. He could fight off her. 

"What's wrong? I had hoped you were doing well..." Her lips tugged into a pouting frown, but not the kind that conveyed concern.

Kenneth panted quietly and refused to respond. She wouldn't get anything out of him. Nothing. His chest ached, though. He needed to lay down and the pain was only going to get worse the more he sat here panting and wheezing into the air. With his knees in his chest, he could hardly breathe right as it was. Still, she was sitting too close. He couldn't lay down and become vulnerable. He needed to be upright and ready to attack at a moment's notice. 

His eyes trailed to her hands as she twiddled her thumbs in her lap. Her eyes were still on him, probably sizing up what was left of the son she'd chased off. Did she really care? Probably not, he thought and rested his chin closer to his knees. She was like a hawk and if he had to guess, she was figuring out the best attack point. 

Well, I'm not going to give it to her. He tightened his grip and ignored the painful spark inside of his chest. Breathing was good, and getting very hard. Where was Byrd when he needed someone? He pressed his fingers tight into his palm, wishing he was still holding her hand. Slowly, his eyes lifted to the VR headset and he reached out, snatching it back. His mother couldn't be allowed near that either. It was the only place in the world truly devoid of her. 

Slipping it down into his lap and against his stomach, Kenneth protected it against himself as he leaned his chin back on his knees and rasped loudly. 

The door creaked open and he heard the familiar sound of tread tires rolling into the room. Kenneth closed his eyes a little bit, though, faintly watching the outline of his mother. The bed creaked and she turned. He exhaled a little bit to see her shifting slowly to her feet and off the bed. 

Then a cold metal hand touched his arm and Kenneth jumped, yelling. He scrambled back again, tripping into the folds of the blanket and barely catching himself on his elbows as he rolled to one side of the mattress. The uncoordinated flight sent spikes of pain from his chest to his arms, though, and he sank back down after a moment and looked over at the bot.

"You should lay down. Your vitals are doing poorly." The bot pulled back the twisted up blankets and drew them neatly back up to Kenneth's chin. "I advise rest."

Kenneth leaned his head back into the pillow and gasped until the pain returned to a gentle dull throb. He reached over and grabbed the fallen VR headset, nodding to the bot. "I'm laying down," he whispered. "I'm laying down."

The bot turned and Kenneth listened to it recceed for a few moments. Then he pushed himself up quickly. "Wait."

His eyes cut over to his mother who now stood meekly by, still surveying the room. Her eyes turned, though, meeting his suddenly and sharply. His gut twisted over on itself and Kenneth slowly laid back down. 

"Yes?" asked the bot.

Swallowing, Kenneth tucked his arms under the blanket and around his torso. "N-Nothing."

A whirr and a click followed before the door creaked open and again the bot disappeared. Kenneth felt tears welling up in his eyes as he cut them down to the floor to avoid his mother's gaze. Alone with her, again. He'd had a chance. A chance to ask for help, someone to stay in the room, anything. Sure, the hospital probably had surveillance, but did they care enough to check up on someone like him?

He turned himself slowly onto the other side and put his back to his mother. His breathing failed to even out and he clutched at his chest as he panted into the thin air. Stop stop, all of this has to stop. Why did I do this? It wasn't worth it. Byrd will be fine on her own, she's just a random person who doesn't need me. The world doesn't need me. Make it stop...

He wanted to cry, or scream, or tear at his hair, but anything might set her off. If he let a tear slip would she slap him for being too emotional? He wasn't a man. Wasn't even a boy. He wasn't tough enough. Sure, he could fight in-game, but that wasn't real life. That wasn't her. His lip trembled and he bit down on it hard. His fingers curled into his shirt as he pulled the VR closer to him with his free hand. Escape only existed there, but it was almost the dead of night if the clock display inside the headset was any indicator. He swallowed. Byrd wouldn't be on, she had church and needed sleep. What was he going to do until she got back?

"Kenneth." 

His eyes shifted slowly towards her before dropping to the foot of bed and blankets separating them. Muscle locking up, he couldn't nod or speak. His throat was too tight to force words, though, let alone gulp down air. Silence lapsed for several moments.

"Kenneth, you shouldn't have left home. We could've dealt with this easier if you were home," she said, her voice dropping a couple of tones. Her eyes turned down to the floor and she frowned deeper. "If you had stayed you might not be sick."

It was all her fault. I wouldn't have left if not for you! The words wanted to well up into a strained yell, but Kenneth kept his lips pressed tight together and focused on taking deep slow breaths through his nose. He watched it spike and drop with each inhale and exhale he made. If he held his breath, would the bot come back and put and end to this conversation? He couldn't keep them in the room without providing them a reason to fear he was in constant jeopardy. He couldn't do that, not on his own. Tears welled back up into his eyes and he sniffled, turning his head away so she wouldn't see as he covered it up with a throaty cough. 

"Kenneth, answer me. You know you shouldn't have left." Her voice cut the silence in the room as he coughed. He hesitated and ended up hacking a moment longer as his breath caught in his throat and choked him up. He couldn't answer her. Couldn't summon words. 

He couldn't breathe. His throat was tighter than before and the room spinning again.

"Kenneth." 

He flinched and gasped, eyes bulging under the strain to breathe. His fingers were already at his chest, trying to press air to his lungs. Just pass out. If I pass out the bot will come in here and they'll rush her out or something so they can operate. He tried to cough up whatever was obstructing his breathing but there was nothing in his throat. Cold washed over him. Had she called his name again? 

A hand touched his shoulder and Kenneth jerked. He recoiled from her and crossed his arms over his chest, wheezing. Dark bots blurred his vision. For once, he didn't fight them. 

"Please exit the room so we may administer care." 

Never before had the voice of a bot sounded so inviting. Kenneth curled his knees into his stomach and coughed. The familiar sound of the bots tread across the floor was followed by several protests before the door clicked shut. Silence, blessed silence. She's gone. Not for good, but she's gone. The invisible noose released. Kenneth coughed and gasped, rolling to lay on his back as the bots came over and adjusted the oxygen levels again. They shined lights on his face and began to blabber to one another as Kenneth gazed past them at the ceiling. His fingers found the edge of the VR headset, though, and he gripped it tighter. A few more hours and Byrd would be awake. Then he could vanish into the VR world again with her. David was waiting for them. 

His grip trembled slightly, though, and tears welled up. They slid down his cheeks finally as he coughed and turned his head away. The bots retreated slightly around him, checking monitors and pulses again. Kenneth's eyes were dragged down to the VR headset, and then the door. He could escape, but he'd always have to take the headset off and return here. His blood ran cold and his breath hitched for a moment before releasing. I brought this on myself. 

His other hand fisted up into the blankets. I should've just accepted death.