"We are close, Myles!" I hear Jimmy's voice through a fog, as my vision is blurred and the view which is contained by trees and clouds, all mixed is going round and round.

"How much?", I breathe out, gasping for air, while the sweat comes down my face and I do not have the strength to wipe it away.

"Um... little." I stop and squat down, panting, wiping away the sweat, but when I glance at my hand instead of it I see blood. The two liquids must have mixed.

"Jimmy, go back. Your father must be wondering where are you."

"No!", he yells, and I hear a faint sound as if he was patting the ground with his shoe. "I don't leave you! No! No! No!" When I look at him, I see that he is shaking his head, and it immediately makes me so dizzy.

"We are here. Look, your house is there, right?" He points somewhere and I narrow my eyes to see where.

"Is it?", I ask, not sure whose is this big house that is blurry. Mine is not. I do not have a house.

"Mhm. It's. Come on, now! Chip chop!" He takes my hand, and before I can get up he is pulling me.

"Where did you hear that?"

"What? Chip chop?" He turns to me, and his face dances in front of me, as a ball going up and down.

"Yea..." I try to catch my unsteady breath. I have a feeling as if every time I slow down, he pulls me with his kid's strength.

"Not sure. Oh, yes!", he exclaims, suddenly and I bounce from the sudden noise. "I stealing and there was some kids and they was playing and when I asked them to join they said chip chop", he imitates them with a raspy and low voice, so I assume they must have been older.

"So I figure out that must be something like c'mon!"

"Mhm..."

"One more street, Myles."

"Mhm..."

I am not sure how I have not passed out yet. The sweat is sipping down my face, out of my hair, and the sun is so bright, burning on my neck, and on my open wounds where my shirt is torn. The blood on my body is dried, so I can smell it, its scent mixed with the sweat.

"Myles! Myles!" I feel someone jerking me, and my head feels so fuzzy and my vision is really foggy, not letting me see anything straight.

"What? What?" I open my eyes which I didn't know I closed.

"We arrived!", Jimmy's chirp voice squeaks. His little yellow face dances in front of me, and he smiles brightly, while his eyes are joyful.

"Where?" I turn to see the house where Scott lives with his wife. "Oh."

"Do you have a key?"

"The key. I d-do. Somewhere in my pockets." I try to reach for one in my jeans, but I miss it, and my heavy hand falls on my thigh. Instead, of moving it up, again, I feel Jimmy's little hands rummage through all the pockets I have. Jeans, front, back ones, jacket, inside, outside, until he finally finds it.

"Oh, you have a gum! Can I take it, pleaaaaasee!" His black eyes plead with me, while I struggle to focus on them, since they are foggy, dancing up and down, though slower now.

"Mhm, but please open the door first."

"Oh, yeah!" He tries to put the key in the lock and turns it, but he cannot even manage to put the key, repeatedly missing the lock. So, I lean on the door, panting, before I take the key from his small hand.

"Give it to me." I squat down, not being able to stand anymore, and open the door, with my head bowed, and Jimmy pushes it, revealing the house, where many bad memories happened. Though not many since Scott is less violent in the house, almost never.

I find myself surprised by the strength of the 13-year-old boy. But when I remember me and my brother at 13, I remember that he started fighting at this very age. Well, he started learning which took him about a year, since he was always weak because of the punches he got from our father that were slowing him down for a long time.

You would never believe this, but he was always weak, and ill and he would catch colds really quickly, something like Stella lately. And I was the one who took care of him, just how I did with Stella. Preparing him teas, soups or just being next to him, while he was coughing and having a fever. He was always so thin, but when he got in shape from all exercises, his body was built with muscles and he was not that weak, anymore. Though time after time, he would cough because of his allergies.

That makes me feel bad, and guilty for reporting him. Who is going to take care of him in a juvenile? No one is going to make him tea which is the only thing that manages to soothe his throat burning from the coughing. So, now I see him laying in the bed, covered in blankets, shaking and coughing. I approach him, put a hand on his forehead only to find it burning.

"Chris, do not worry, I am going to maks you t...." But then something cold buries in my stomach. I glance down to see a pocket knife and blood on my hands. When I lift my head I see him grinning in the dark.

"Gotcha like then in a ring."

"Where is your room?"

"Huh?" I turn in the direction of the voice.

"Where is your room?", the same squeaky voice repeats.

"Upstairs."

"Okay, let's go." Someone pulls me and I sway, feeling coldness shivering through my whole body, which begins to shake.

"Watch where you go." But as he says that, I trip over the stairs and almost fall, but someone catches me, only to let me go, so I feel something hitting my face, but no pain comes. I am numb to it, by now. Now, I only feel coldness, an extreme one. I lay on the stairs, I assume, hugging them.

"I-I c-can't."

"You have temperature."

I close my eyes and try to stop my teeth from chattering, as coolness embraces my body, more, taking the warm blanket from my body.

"Myles!" Someone groans and I am being pulled by something.

I just wanna lay and cover with a blanket. Or blankets. Or three blankets.

"Thank God this stairs weren't long. Or however American people say that." Then I hear some foreign language I don't recognize.

Jimmy. Oh, no. He has to go. Maybe Alexia is here.

"J-Jimmy, go", I whisper, my teeth chatting, and my body trembling. "Alexia may be here."

"No one are here. Now shut up and tell me which is your room." I try to look at the doors and try to lift my shaky hand to point, but I fail, my head falling on his tiny frame, and he tries to hold me. I swear I can hear his wobbly legs, failing to balance my body.

"Okay, okay. I choose this one."

I hear the door creaking, and my vision is less blurry now so I can see the bed and rush to it, and fall on it, trying to pull the blanket and cover myself with it. As soon as I feel the blanket, I try to wrap myself in it, pulling it up to my face, but it's not enough. I need more. I am really cold. I am freezing. My jaw does not want to stop shivering, and my teeth are hurting from all the colliding with each other.

"I don't know what to do. I'll call dad, he'll know."

"N-no. Go, I'll be okay. Just cover me with something."

"I do. You have enough... coverage."

"Blankets. I need blankets. They are in the closet."

"Um, no... They are... Oh, I didn't know you has high heels."

What the hell is he talking about?

"Go. Please. I don't want you to get you in trouble. Please, J-Jimmy", I plead with him, shivering along with the bed, while clenching the sheets.

"Okay."

I wake up, not remembering the number of nightmares I had, since they were a few of them. I rub my eyes, to see that the sun isn't shining anymore, but it isn't night, yet. I inhale and exhale, and then I feel sickness and extreme urge to vomit, climbing up my throat. I push the sheets and before I can find the slippers that were given to me I storm to the bathroom.

I push the door and quickly kneel in front of the toilet. Before my weak arms can even open it, I start vomiting. I cough, and wipe my mouth, feeling a little bit better, but soon the next urge comes and I have the big pressure not only in my throat but in my stomach as well, that is growling the whole time I'm trying to make it empty.

When I'm sure I won't puke anymore I flush the toilet and stay a few seconds kneeling on the cold bathroom floor, trying to gain the strength to get up. Once I do that, I wash my face with the cold water, as I cuss Myles in my head for coaxing me to eat this morning. I knew this was going to happen, and I don't know why people force me to eat. If I'm hungry I'll eat, I'm not a toddler, no need to remind me of that. But I'm not hungry. Or am I a little bit?

My stomach growls and I look myself in the mirror. My hair is wet since I didn't tie it before I washed my face, plus the sweat on my forehead from the nightmares ruined it. My lips are pale, as my whole face. The biggest part of my face is covered by dark circles. I roll my eyes, and leave the bathroom, barely walking steadily to the room on my wobbly legs.

"Hey, I was trying to find you. You okay?", a nurse asks me. Why is every time the different nurse?

"Yes", I lie, as if my face can't answer her itself.

"Well, you don't look so well." See? "I think you should eat."

"No!", I cut her off. "No! I'm not hungry!", I snap at her, coming back under the sheets, shaking a little. Then, I notice that IV isn't in my hand, but the stand is still here, though without the see-through bag with water in it. "Where is the infusion?", I ask her.

"I took it off, it finished. Later, I'll put you on another one." Ugh, of course, you will, I keep for myself, or I mumble that I'm not sure. "Okay, if you don't want to it, then I should put you another IV, now."

"It's not that I don't want to, I can't! I'm sick!" I raise my hands in the air, frustrated. I hate all these people.

"Okay, then." She bites her lip, thinking a little. "What about I make you tea?" Oh, tea, instantly reminds me of Myles. And I miss him. What if something happened to him? What if Scott... He wouldn't, right? Oh, he would, he definitely would.

"What do you say?" The nurse brings me back to reality, and I nod.

"Tea would be nice, yeah."

I shrug, and she smiles, telling me that she is going to come back soon with the mint tea. Whatever. I don't care which kind, they all taste awful. Though, if Myles made it, I would take it, although I would probably first put an act, how I don't want it, and hate it (not that I don't, I do hate 'em with my whole heart), but watching him prepare it for me, caring and looking at me with worried makes me feel less lonely. Makes me feel as if there is someone who cares about me in this world after all. Who wouldn't leave me like my mom did, and Michael almost did.

I lay on the right hip and look through the window attending the day handing over the time to night and resigning and leaving the world in the dark. The sun can't longer be seen, it is hiding behind the dark sky, because it went for a sleep, tired from all the shining it has been doing the whole day. Now the moon is going to replace it, and do the same job sun has been doing, as they do each time some of them gets tired. They go in a circle, they are friends, but they can never meet, never talk, never say hi to each other, even though they save one another's ass, taking over the task of shining and enlightening us cruel creatures when the other's shift is over. Though, they meet each year when the eclipse happens. But that is not once, they have so much to talk about, to chat, to say each other, and that one time that happens only once in 365 or 366 days isn't enough for the too (half) circles who shine the brightest.

I wanna wait for the moon, to see even the half of it, since I, even though I always break during the night, that covers (but opens, too) my wounds, I actually enjoy how the contrast between the black blanket of sky and white, or sometimes yellow moon look breathtaking, but before it appears and my tea is brought, I doze off again, entering the world of nightmares once again.