The life of a kind boy takes a crazy turn when a man gives him a deal.
Jake’s Story
Jake, 5 years old
“Mommy?” I cried through the house, limping. “Mommy? Help!” I had just been outside on my bike and fallen. My knee has been scraped pretty bad. The blood stained my old, to big, worn out jeans crimson. “Mommy!”
My knee stings and I feel tears slipping down my face. “It hurts!”
I limp into mom’s room. The minute she see’s my knee she whisks me away to the bathroom.
She starts digging through the shelf, looking for something to clean my knee.
I see her grab a brown bottle and whimper. “No stingy stuff, mommy, no stingy stuff. No.”
Mom frowns and strokes my hair. “Jake, when it stings it’s helping. Let me see your knee.”
She cleans it and puts a band aid on it. “There you go Jake, good as new. Go play.”
I smile and run outside. My bike is just where I left it. I look at our house. It’s small, shabby, and not in good shape. Most of it is broken. It has four rooms. Two bedrooms, a kitchen/living room, and a bathroom. And one closet by the door.
I hop on my bike and zoom around the neighborhood, until it all becomes a blur.
I barely saw the man out of the corner of my eye. He had on a complete black outfit, and was tinkering with a small sliver object.
In my five year old mind, he couldn’t have mattered less.
I couldn’t have been more wrong.
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