Free Splintered Energy (The Colors Book 1) by Arlene Webb

He’d left the head on. It hadn’t been easy. These smaller ones had sweetness in their voices. They didn’t annoy too much, but now his head ached. It was difficult to block billions of noises, when irritation pounded along with the chaos of sound.
    Damon-Demon is a mean cruel freak . Everyone he tried to communicate with feared him. Tim shook, his airflow beating too hard and terrified, he’d leak water soon. Fluid welled in Damon’s eyes, too. He’d broken Jaylynn’s arm. Not easy, controlling invincible. “Damon won’t touch Tim. Why afraid? Teach.”
    “You didn’t have to break the window. Kevin’s mom will kill him.”
    A dead window mattered? Tim’s words didn’t have any tone suggesting they weren’t true. He scowled. “Damon knows kill. Where Mom? Teach. Now.”
    “You want to tell my mom you smashed her car?” Kevin yelled. “Are you crazy?”
    Overwhelming frustration throbbed within his aching head. Not only did Kevin not go faster, he pulled over and slowed to a halt. Damon could see the glow from whatever Phoenix was. Maybe if he went fast, he’d find his home.
    Damon couldn’t take much more of this. Something needed to break, something always broke, and he wanted to flee this confusing world. What actually happened when a head came off? Damon banged his forehead on the dashboard—metal dented—his pulsating head stayed on.
    “This is really weird. We have to do something,” Kevin whispered to Tim.
    “Want us to get you some help?” Tim’s trembling fingers patted Damon on the knee. “What’s wrong?”
    Many things were wrong, but a new emotion shook Damon. Tim’s voice texture rang frightened and concerned, and he’d touched Damon. The first time someone had chosen to do so.
    He lifted his head and wiped his leaking eyes. “Help Damon?” The glasses wanted to fall off. If his eyes showed, would his name be Demon again?
    “We could bring you to a hospital,” Kevin said. “They must have a mental or psych unit in Phoenix.”
    “Psych unit fix head noise?”
    “Sure, that’s what they’re for.”
    “Mom kill Kevin?”
    “Yeah, but I can make up some fuckin’ story.”
    “Take to Mom, then psych unit. No fuckin’. Damon don’t like. Go faster.”
    Kevin’s ugly mouth fell open. “Take you to my mom? You’re really whacked! I can’t go faster. I just got my license. We’ve been smoking. I can’t risk the police on top of the broken window. She really would kill me.”
    Damon wanted to understand. He wanted his home. Soon, he’d do what Demon wanted. He lunged out the broken window, leapt over the Mom-car and dropped by the door to Kevin. He adjusted for frailty, but the door handle crushed in his hand. He clenched his jaw, lifted Kevin out and placed him on the ground.
    Damon gestured. Tim wasn’t stupid. He scrambled out of the Mom-car, and tried to hide behind Kevin. They stared at Damon hopping into the control seat. “Teach.”
    Good water ran down Kevin’s cheeks. “Go on. Take the car, just leave us alone, all right?”
    “Teach Mom-car.” Damon grunted. How many times did he ask? He struggled not to smash the frightened Kevin who finally opened his mouth.
    “It’s an automatic. Push on the brake, take it out of park, go into drive.”
    “Brake?”
    “With your foot.” Kevin pointed at Damon’s left leg. “From park to drive, and push your other foot on the gas pedal.”
    Damon tapped the brake pedal down. For no good reason, the knob on the gearshift crumbled when he shifted all the way to OD. “Thank you.” He forced the door closed. Warily, carefully, going to kill something if it broke, he pressed the other pedal. The Mom-car shot out, tires squealed, and gravel flew.
    The stupid car refused to move at an acceptable speed, yet the night air soothed, music helped teach, and Damon counted every beautiful light he passed. He tapped the driver window. The shattered fragments sparkled as glass fell—another mess left in his path.
    Wherever