The Boy in My House

Mateo opened the door to his apartment. It was a small place in a building with only six apartments.

Mateo reached into his pocket to get his keys while holding Luar in his right arm. He struggled to unlock the door while carrying him.

The keys slipped from his fingers.

Mateo sighed and looked down.

He dropped Luar onto the ground for a moment so he could use both hands.

After finally unlocking the door, Mateo picked Luar back up and carried him inside.

The apartment had a small kitchen and living area. There was also a bedroom and a bathroom with a bathtub.

Mateo carried Luar through the kitchen and into the bedroom.

He laid Luar down on the bed.

Mateo looked down at him and thought to himself,

“This kid stinks like a pig. Ugh.”

Mateo removed the bloody bandage from Luar's injured arm.

He stared at the wound.

There was a large amount of dried blood around it.

Mateo went into the bathroom and opened the cabinet.

He grabbed a bottle of povidone-iodine.

Mateo returned to the bedroom and carefully cleaned the wound.

Luar remained unconscious.

Mateo cleaned away as much of the blood as he could before applying a fresh bandage.

When he finished, Mateo looked at Luar.

“That should be enough for now.”

Mateo walked back into the kitchen.

He sat down at the table.

“I should get some sleep.”

Mateo closed his eyes.

Four hours later, Luar was still sleeping.

He began to dream.

He saw darkness.

He heard laughter.

Tall black shadows surrounded him.

The laughter became louder.

Suddenly, Luar opened his eyes in shock.

He stared at the ceiling.

He closed his eyes.

Then he opened them again.

Luar looked around.

First to his right.

Then to his left.

He placed his hand against his forehead.

Then he looked down at his left arm.

His eyes widened.

His hand was gone.

“WHAT...?”

Luar stared at the bandages.

“I can't believe this happened.”

His breathing became faster.

“It was not a dream.”

Luar looked down at himself.

“I'm only eight years old. I have my whole life ahead of me. Why did this even happen to me?”

Luar slowly got out of bed.

He looked around the unfamiliar apartment.

“I must go to the washroom.”

He walked around until he found a door.

He opened it.

It was the bathroom.

After using it, Luar walked back into the main room.

He looked down.

He saw someone's legs.

Luar slowly looked up.

It was Mateo.

Luar froze.

He thought to himself,

“Could it be that he is one of the guys who cut off my hand?”

Luar dropped to the ground and covered his face with his remaining hand.

Mateo looked at him.

He slowly reached his hand out.

“Let's eat something.”

Luar slowly lowered his hand.

He wasn't sure whether he could trust Mateo.

But he eventually stood up.

Mateo walked toward the kitchen.

Luar followed him.

They sat at the table.

Mateo brought two apples.

He placed one in front of Luar.

“Not much, but eat this.”

Luar picked up the apple and took a bite.

Mateo sat at the other end of the table.

He looked at Luar.

“So... how is it right now?”

Luar looked confused.

“What do you mean, how is it right now?”

Mateo pointed toward Luar's injured arm.

“Your hand.”

Luar looked down.

“My hand is not alright.”

Luar continued eating his apple.

Mateo began eating his as well.

Then—

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Mateo looked toward the door.

“Who could I have at this hour?”

Mateo stood up and walked to the door.

He opened it.

A man stood outside with a stack of newspapers under his arm.

“Newspaper delivery.”

Mateo looked at him.

“Oh. Right. Thanks.”

The newspaper man handed Mateo a newspaper and continued down the hallway.

Mateo closed the door.

He walked back to the table and placed the newspaper down.

He unfolded it and began reading.

One of the headlines caught his attention.

Mateo read the article carefully.

It described a major event that had happened somewhere in the country.

Mateo continued reading for several seconds.

Then he put the newspaper down.

“It doesn't change my lifestyle.”

Luar looked at him.

“What lifestyle?”

Mateo looked at him.

Luar continued eating his apple.

“You're broke.”

Mateo's expression immediately changed.

“Who are you calling broke?”

Mateo leaned toward Luar.

“Remember your place, you pathetic little piece of trash. I literally found you dying on the side of an alley.”

Luar stopped eating.

Mateo continued.

“I saved your life, and you're sitting here eating my food. You're even eating my apple.”

Mateo pointed toward Luar.

“I'm the one whose house you're in. Keep that in your little mind, brat.”

Luar stared at Mateo.

For a moment, neither of them said anything.

Then Luar spoke.

“But how did you find me in the first place?”

Mateo looked at him.

Luar continued.

“I remember people cutting off my hand... but I don't remember what happened after that.”

Mateo became quiet.

He looked away.

How should I tell him?

After thinking for a moment, Mateo turned back toward Luar.

“This is how I found you.”

Luar listened.

“I saw the people around you when they cut off your hand. That's when I saw you.”

Mateo paused.

“I started fighting them and saved you. Then I called the police on the people who did this to you.”

Luar's eyes widened.

“Oh... wow. Really?”

Luar looked down at his remaining hand.

“You actually helped me?”

Mateo nodded.

Luar looked back at him.

“And yet I was acting like a little shit. Forgive me, Mateo.”

Mateo stared at him.

“I don't do forgiveness.”

Luar became quiet.

Mateo reached for the newspaper again.

He picked it up and started looking through it.

Then he stopped.

His eyes moved across another article.

“Oh... that's interesting.”

Luar looked at him.

“What?”

Mateo continued reading.

Then he said,

“I lost my job because of a few thugs.”

Luar looked confused.

“What?”

Mateo pointed at the newspaper.

“There's an event going on somewhere.”

He read the article again.

Then his eyes widened slightly.

“And the prize is 10,000 JPD.”

Mateo stared at the newspaper.

The amount of money immediately caught his attention.

10,000 JPD.