Save Me, I'm Lost

Gordon was waiting for Tom in the living room when he came home.

"And where have you been?" his step-father asked with a stern look on his face. "You know your mother told you to be home before the sun went down."

"I'm sorry Gordon. I got lost."

"Lost? Tom, you've lived here all your life," he interjected.

There was no escaping punishment now. Why do parents have to be so overprotective?! He had no more excuses.

"Go to your room," Gordon demanded.

"But.."

"No buts, son. You will thank us one day. This isn't exactly the safest town in the world," he explained.

Tom sighed and went upstairs to his room. He changed out of his clothes and put on a pair of baggy sweatpants. Then he sat on his bed with his guitar and angstily strummed away.

"Curfews piss me off," Tom grumbled. But he was just upset about getting in trouble. He knew Gordon was right, that this town wasn't safe. There were so many gangs out after dark and though Tom was strong and could easily take out a few guys to protect himself, that wouldn't be enough. They'd come after him until he and everyone he knew was beat into a pulp. That was just the trouble about this place. His parents had talked for years about moving, but after living there for all their lives they couldn't just pick up and move.

His thoughts then turned to that boy, the one that lived in the park. Was he safe there? He probably wasn't, but what did Tom care? He didn't even know this kid. In fact, he was kind of creepy for just coming up to Tom like that. Homeless people were creepers.

There were a few homeless people in the city but everyone just ignored them. If you gave them money or anything they would just crawl back for more. Living on the streets like they did, the gangs eventually found them and either asked them to join their gangs or beat the shit out of them.

There had been a homeless boy once, in his teens. He refused to join this one gang and they beat him so bad that he bled to death. And no one was held responsible for the crime. Maybe because there was no one seeking justice for this dead kid. No one really cared about him.

An involuntary shiver of fear went up Tom's spine as he thought about how easily that small, frail boy that lived in the tree could be beaten to death. He was just skin and bones. If he was found and pushed around a bit, it would take nothing just to break a bone or two.

Tom got off the bed and leaned his guitar against the wall. He went to the window and looked out at the dark night.

That feeling of emptiness crept over him again. Tom had always felt empty, like there was something missing from his life.

Sure, he had friends and he had girls. But they weren't true to him, they just got him by in life. He wasn't content with living a simple life. For him, nothing changed. Nothing ever was different. Noncomformity was impossible.

Nothing stared back at him as he looked out the window. It was only the dark, dull, bleakness of the town. There was nothing new or exciting. Nothing in the city had changed in decades. He prayed for a change nearly every night.

His thoughts drifted back to the boy. Could he really be the change that Tom had asked for? He didn't believe it.

He was still conflicting whether to go back to that park or not.

It won't hurt to go. He is different, at least. Isn't that what I wanted? Why not give this creepy kid a shot?

Tom went back to his bed and laid down. He fell asleep and dreamt of a gang brutally beating the poor kid in the tree. He woke up in a cold sweat, tears rolling down his face.

He would go back to that park, and he would change that boy's life.