Free Retard by Daniel I Russell

lifted his feet and stood, losing her balance for a second before stumbling through the lounge to the kitchen and her pack of cigarettes waiting on the table.
    “I’m not going to prison,” she told it, shaking a stick loose and popping it between her lips. She lit it up and collapsed onto one of the chairs. “I’m not going to prison over him.”
    The cigarette tasted worse than normal, more chemical. Must be the drink.
    How long do fractured cheek bones take to heal? You never hear of people being put in face casts. Are they one of those that just heal themselves? Some of them just heal themselves.
    Christine shook her head. The smoke and the alcohol mixed all her thoughts about like a spoon swirling the contents of her skull. Even her inner voice was rambling and slurred.
    Three weeks until he has to go out…longer if I have to find a new school…
    Why did he have to touch that little girl?
    Three weeks…he might be healed by then…
    She leaned back and looked through the archway, past the stairs and into the lounge. Wesley still lay on his back, the light from the television dancing across his pale face, fast asleep. He wasn’t drawing on the walls or throwing plates around or generally screaming and bellowing for no reason. Her son was quiet. Still.
    Three weeks.
    She weighed it up. The only person who might come calling was Sally, and she could easily be dissuaded. Keep Wesley inside for three weeks and this whole mess would be behind them.
    Christine shook her head. He always did the opposite of what you needed, like the kid could read your mind and then do everything in his power to disrupt your plans.
    She puffed out a lungful of smoke and drained her glass, head reeling.
    Not anymore, she thought. Look at him. Quiet and…and…behaving.
    Three weeks. I can get through three weeks.
     

 
     
    10.
     
    His mum was on the phone, and Wesley knew it was a secret because she closed the door. She never did that. Who could she be speaking to? Probably Aunt Sally. There hadn’t been any special uncles for a while…and they didn’t know anyone else.
    It might be the school. Today is…Tuesday?
    The Fabled Four video had been rewound and played four times through that morning. Wesley happily watched under his mum’s thick duvet. She’d turned off the gas heating even though a cold wind had started to rattle the windows, and Wesley swore he felt it tickle his face every now and then.
    He watched the video in relative comfort, his eye no longer hurting. Heat had settled into the flesh of his cheek like belated sunburn, and Heaven forbid he touch it. That brought back the deep, agonising spark. His mum had spoon-fed him a bowl of soggy cereal, and he’d enjoyed a cold glass of orange juice. The urge to be up and off the sofa, to be doing something , was starting to return.
    “No, Sal! He can’t come here. I told you.”
    Wesley frowned from his mum’s raised voice. She might always shout at him but never Aunt Sally.
    “Something’s wrong here,” said Yorin. He sat cross-legged in the corner, honing the edge of his great axe with a whetstone. A steady metallic echo almost drowned out the television. “Dragonclaw keeps us comfortable and fed well.”
    “It is but a ruse, Commander,” said EagleEye, perched on the arm of the sofa, watching his own show with interest. “Why would we want to leave if are provided with every luxury?”
    “Because we are warriors,” Yorin replied. “Warriors who swore an oath the Realm. To protect it from evil”
    The door to the hall burst open, and Wesley’s mother, a strange, glowing green noose around her neck, was barged through and into the lounge. She tripped and fell face down on the carpet. Behind her entered Sasha, gripping the other end of her magical whip. Her jade eyes glowed within her violet veil.
    “Finally,” she said. “I located the one that trapped us and attacked Globin. Dragonclaw’s assassin!” She planted a sharp, pointed boot into the small