Chapter Text
The cold of the tile floor stings the soles of my feet as I cross the hall to get to the showers. The lights go off at curfew, but it’s already been dark for hours when I get home. Someone has to work night shifts if the elite are to have their fun under the cover of darkness.
James is already in bed. I used the phone at work to ring his school and warn him I wouldn’t be home until late. I told him not to use the shower, we only had around 15 minutes worth of water use a day, and I’d need every second to wash the filth away.
The shock of the nearly frozen water still stings, although I’m used to it by now. We haven’t had hot water in years, James hasn’t had it once in his life. In fact, the only heat in the house comes from us. The rest is dreadfully cold, especially late in the fall like this. I can’t see what I’m doing. Everytime I’m in this house I spend my time groping around like a blind man. It was harder at first, when I hadn’t yet learned how to get it all done in the dark, but I adapted.
The soap they issue everyone once a month isn’t scented, but I’d like to imagine it smells like the woods. I don’t remember much of it, I was only a boy then. I suppose I’m not much older now, although it feels like I’ve lived a lifetime.
My skin burns despite the cold, when I step out, I know it’ll be red and raw from how fast I drag a cloth across it in my desperation. I know I’ll never wash them off. The stink may be gone but the feeling will linger as long as I live.
I try to pull on my clothes as fast as I can. You learn that quickly too, when you have to use your towels as blankets because the ones you have are so worn they look like thread. I give him most of mine, I give him most of everything I have. All I have to keep me from freezing tonight is this worn white t-shirt and a hoodie that cost me two weeks worth of overtime. It’s not much, I still wake myself up in the middle of the night because I can’t breathe. I still walk into work sniffling with red eyes. My boss says it makes the blue more striking, so I guess there’s a win somewhere in there.
When I work up the courage to return to the one bedroom box I can barely justify calling an apartment, much less a home, I’m exhausted. I insisted he have the couch, but I feel myself longing for it against my will. He looks so innocent lying there, so peaceful. I wish the world would let him live like that a little longer.
I collapse onto the pallets we have leaned up against the wall and atop the floor to resemble something of a bed. It looks more like something you’d give a dog, but it’s better than having your face frozen to the floor when you wake up.
You’d think I’d be able to fall asleep instantly, what with the exhaustion I’ve been bitching about all day, in my head at least. In truth, I always end up staring at the ceiling for about an hour more. I know it’s a waste of time I could have to rest. Maybe if I took the chance I wouldn’t be so very tired in the mornings. Then again, what was the difference in an extra hour when I’d still barely be getting half of what the average human needs? I couldn’t sleep anyway if I tried. I’d just end up staring at the black behind my eyelids as colors faded in and out. “Insomnia”, my coworker called it when I complained. “You should see a doctor for that, there are pills you could take.” If only I could afford them.