Free Retard by Daniel I Russell Page B

yank him. He hurtled backwards, almost falling if she hadn’t caught him. She shoved Wesley through his open bedroom doorway, into the mess and stink that waited for him.
    He gripped the frame on either side, refusing to even step foot inside.
    His mother barged into him, her elbow connecting with the small of his back, knocking Wesley into his bedroom.
    His legs fell out from under him, and Wesley fell among the toys.
    Panting, his mother pointed. “Why does it always have to be like this? I want you to stay in here and be quiet for a few hours. That’s all! I’m sure even you can manage that if you fucking tried.”
    Wesley leapt from the floor, snarling like a rabid dog, his fingers hooked and aiming for her eyes.
    Her hard backhand sent him sprawling to the side and bounced him from the side of his bed, the sound of flesh on flesh like a gunshot. White, dizzying light blazed behind his eyes in a flash, and the pain through his cheek penetrated knife-deep into his face.
    Still he pulled himself to his feet, aware through the hurt that they were past the point of no return. He’d be paying the price regardless.
    “Stay in here,” said his mum, her words somehow firm and clear through gritted teeth. “Don’t make a sound.”
    She turned and stepped through the door, closing it behind her.
    Wesley flung himself against it, beating the wood with his fists and screaming at the top of his lungs. He almost toppled back once again as the door swung open.
    His mother filled the doorway, her nostrils billowing, face flushed.
    “Your choice.”
    Her own scream matched his own as she plunged into the room, face a mask of hatred.
     
    ***
     
    “Get up, Globin. The Realm needs you!”
    He tried to open his eyes but was granted only a blurry sliver for his efforts. His face didn’t feel his own. Amused by this, he laughed in the inner darkness but all that trickled from his mouth was a long, wet moan.
    Lifting his head from the pillow proved impossible, like a giant, heavy helm had been put in place while he slumbered. His arms and legs had been similarly bound.
    Am I though? Am I tied up?
    He sat up to find out. His head seemed to fly a quick lap of the room and slam back down onto the bed. He retched, his fingers flapping uselessly on the mattress.
    “You cannot let Dragonclaw win!” said the firm voice. “So come on, soldier. On your feet.”
    “You’re not real,” he whispered, drool pooling from between his lips. “Leave me alone.” Still he forced himself to at least sit. His body swayed. “I can’t see.”
    “Yes, you can,” said Sasha, her voice an exotic purr in his ear. “You just have to believe.”
    His eyelids refused to cooperate at first. His left, the one over the cheek that had become a jagged chasm, was swollen shut. He blinked the tears from his right.
    “That’s better,” said EagleEye.
    His mother had, of course, closed the door. His bedroom light burned. He had no idea how many hours he’d slept. The usual muffled voices and canned laughter from the television in the lounge below was strangely absent. Could it be the middle of the night?
    “I should sleep,” he muttered. “Sleep...”
    “No sleep for you, young wizard! There is evil afoot. For the Realm!”
    Why can’t you just leave me alone?
    He swung his legs over the side of the bed. The now familiar dryness in his throat had returned. He may be speaking through a mouthful of cotton wool, his face feeling a thousand miles away, but his throat and bloated lips were worse. He knew how far that could go.
    “There is no prison can hold a man,” said Globin, “greater than his own.”
    Wesley blinked with his one working eye, realising it was his own voice he heard, quoting the show.
    He flopped onto the floor, his head hovering over the messy carpet. The toy cars and pieces from mismatched jigsaw puzzles swam before his eyes.
    No. I have to keep moving.
    “And go where?” asked Yorin. “A soldier plans before he moves.”
    To