Free You Can't Escape by Nancy Bush

as they approached the bank of elevators at the far end of the hall. He didn’t want to be in a closed elevator car.
    “We’re taking the elevator.”
    “I don’t want to risk being in the elevator with anyone else.”
    “You can’t make the stairs.”
    “I can. I will.”
    “Horseshit.”
    For a moment, he was pissed; then he almost laughed. “Fine. Hell. The elevator.”
    She slammed her palm on the button, then waited behind the wheelchair, inhaling and exhaling heavily, clearly fighting back her own anxiety. When the elevator doors opened, a man and woman in scrubs broke on either side of them and walked in opposite directions. Jordanna pushed him inside, then turned the chair around. Just before the doors closed, a young aide squeezed into the car. She gave them a smile.
    “You’re being discharged already?” she asked him, and he wondered if he’d been under her care. He was a little fuzzy about the staff who’d attended him.
    “Doctor okayed it,” he told her.
    She nodded, her eyes sliding toward Jordanna, who suddenly leaned down and kissed him on the side of his cheek, purring, “I’ll just be so glad to have you home, darling.”
     
     
    Boo looked through the dirty window to the late-afternoon shadows and longed to be with them. He always wanted to hide in the shadows. It was where he belonged.
    He said, pleading, “I want to go to the playground.”
    “There is no playground,” Buddy told him. “Not anymore.”
    “You promised,” Boo cried.
    “There is no playground.”
    But Boo knew Buddy was lying. They were always lying to him. All of them. They said they wanted to protect him, but they just didn’t want him to be with his friends. They didn’t trust him. He could feel the anger building and he wanted to wish it away but it wouldn’t be wished away. He could never wish it away. He’d tried so many times before. Bad things happened when he got angry, but sometimes he just couldn’t stop the feeling.
    “There’s a playground,” he stated belligerently. Belligerently. . . B . . . e . . . 1
    “I told you, there’s no playground. How many times do I have to say it?”
    “Don’t be mad.” But Boo could feel his own face tighten into its mad look.
    “I’m not mad.”
    “Yes, you are. You’re lying. You told me not to lie. You told me God’s watching.”
    “God is watching,” Buddy said, turning to stare fully at Boo in the darkening kitchen. “Every minute of every day, so you need to be quiet.”
    Boo glanced around nervously. Was it really dark outside now? Or, was he making it dark. He could do that. “I just want to play with my friends.”
    “They’re not your friends, Boo. How many times do I have to tell you? They’re not like us. They pretend they’re nice, but they’re tainted.”
    “They’re what?”
    “They’re tainted. Inside . . .” Buddy walked up close to Boo and crouched right in front of him. “Deep inside them is a dark place where they hide from the rest of us.”
    Like me? Boo wanted to shriek, but he kept it inside by chomping down on the insides of his cheek. “No . . .” he finally said. It was scary to argue with Buddy, but he had to. “They climb on the monkey bars and the pirate ship down at—”
    “Listen to me, you idiot. They’re not your friends and you stay away from them.”
    “Don’t call me names!”
    “Then do as I say!” Buddy straightened abruptly and turned away. Boo wanted to hit him. He almost jumped up and punched him in the back, but he knew it wouldn’t be enough. But he knew what to do.
    “I don’t give a gah-gah- god damn!” he blurted out triumphantly.
    Buddy was on him in a flash, yanking him out of his chair and slapping him hard across the face one, two, three times. Boo’s ears rang and he was sobbing by the time Buddy was finished.
    “You keep your filthy tongue in your head,” Buddy ground out, “or so help me I’ll cut it out!”
    “Sor-sorree,” Boo wailed, his throbbing face in his