Lauren Melissa Ellzey - Boy at the Window

The door clicks open. Light spills from the hallway and across the bed. Daniel closes his eyes at the blinding intrusion. Even though his shoulder aches beneath his weight, he cant bring himself to uncurl from a fetal position. Midnight approaches, yet he hasnt slept a single minute. He loves the nighttime, when the clinic is finally quiet and his daydreams whirl for hours on end.

Having trouble falling asleep tonight, Daniel? asks the nurse in a sweet tone meant for six-year-olds, not sixteen-year-olds. It must be hard to rest when youve only got two more nights here.

Daniel blinks. Rickety wheels squeak toward him. The shadowy shape of a portable vitals monitor settles beside the bed. As his eyes adjust to the new light, he makes out Mrs. Chaneys salt-and-pepper ponytail and wispy arms. Her scrubs brush together as she approaches. She kneels until their eyes meet, but Daniel widens his focus like a camera lens blurring a landscape.

Sweetie, why dont you take a sleeping pill, she states without a hint of question. She leaves, only to return moments later with a small plastic cup of water and an even smaller paper cup that rattles.

Sit up now, she says, but her arm already supports him up from the waist. She shakes the paper cup next to his hand. Daniel places the capsule on his tongue. She passes him the water cup. He swallows the pill. He doesnt need any help resuming his fetal position, his light brown hair brushing against the coarse hospital pillow.

Good night, Daniel, she whispers as she wraps a blood pressure cuff around his forearm even though hes reclining. The familiar whir of pressurized air hums as Daniel shuts his eyes. Mrs. Chaney smells like ammonia, and he considers whether that might be the scent of fear. He pretends to be asleep for the nurses benefit, but he isnt anywhere near tired. His daydreams call him to a world even better than sleep. Hell stay awake and go to Neverland.

As Mrs. Chaneys loafers pad out the door, Daniels footfalls pound into the earth like ripened apples cast from heavy trees. He wishes he could lighten his steps, but he cant manage to run swiftly and softly at the same time. The cacophony of his comrades retreat echoes through the forest. Neither bird nor squirrel makes a sound. All of nature keeps a sage silence. If the Lost Boys are fleeing, nothing good can be in pursuit.

Daniel spies a hollow trunk and takes shelter. He needs to catch his breath and conjure up a plan. This mission marks his third failed attempt to reclaim the Lost Boys stolen treasure. Sure, the Lost Boys themselves had not-so-chivalrously nabbed the chest of golden sea stars from the merfolk, but Daniel always intended to return the gold. The people of the sea would much prefer it if the Lost Boys borrowed their treasure for a few weeks, over whatever the wicked pirates have planned. Pirates never return anything, except an eye for an eye.

I can smell the rotten stench of your fear, boys! shouts none other than the most deranged pirate of them all: Captain James Hook. The callous timbre of his sea-faring accent rekindles a sharp pain in Daniels shoulder. A bloody crust stains the green fabric of his tunic where the captains hook-for-a-hand grasped him just as hed leapt from the pirate ship. While the pirate managed to tear through his skin, he failed to pull Daniel back aboard. Daniel can only hope that all his boys have been as fortunate.

Come out, you cowardly rascal, Hook howls from a safe distance.

Daniels ego sparks, then roars. Cowardly is the complete opposite of his character. He hates the word almost as much as bedtime or boredom .

Proudly, he exits the hollow and cups his mouth with his hand. Chicka-chicka-roo! he crows, calling the Lost Boys into position. From the trees, they will wage war. If Hook wants a fight, hell have to pay the price.

* * *

When the door opens again, sunshine peeks from the edges of the drawn curtains. Daniel struggles to open his eyes. At some point in the night, the sleeping pill must have overpowered him. He summons up the last remnants of his daydream before he fell into unconsciousness. The Lost Boys were rounding up for a doomed battle against the pirates.

Good morning, Daniel, Mrs. Chaney says, but she might as well be talking to the walls. Believe it or not, Im still here. Ms. McKinley is running a bit late, so my shift has gone longer than expected.

After she reaches to secure the blood pressure cuff, she casually checks Daniels blemishless wrists. The same wrists that Captain Hook has bound twice-over with rope. A storm brews in the blackening clouds as the pirates lug the captured Lost Boys back to their ship. Once aboard, Daniel and the Lost Boys are left on deck, exposed to the brutal pelt of frigid rain. While his comrades have lost all hope, Daniel slips his trusty sword from his waistband. The sharp blade slices through his binds.

Captain James Hook! he shouts tauntingly.

When Hook bursts onto the deck, Daniel lets out a mocking peal of laughter. In no time, he and the pirate captain are tangled hook-to-sword. All the while, the storm rages about them. The pirate ship takes on too much water, old wooden boards groaning as the vessel careens wildly. Lightning flashes, illuminating Hooks toothy scowl, but Daniel glimpses Tinker Bell above the pirates shoulder. A mischievous grin flickers on her incandescent features, signaling to Daniel that all is not lost.

Mrs. Chaney moves toward the door, but then turns back toward Daniel. Are you still tired, sweetie? she asks.

The sleeping pill maintains a firm grip on Daniels limbs. From his bed, he watches as Mrs. Chaney heads to the window. She pulls the curtains back, unleashing a glorious waterfall of Southern California sunlight into the room.

So, the thunderstorm has passed. Captain Hook and Daniel gaze in awe as a rainbow embraces the sky. Tinker Bell takes advantage of the distraction to tie Hooks boot laces together. Daniel never misses a beat, though, and he reinitiates the duel. When Hook lunges forward to parry Daniels sword, he loses his balance and plummets to the ships deck. Both Daniel and Tink erupt in triumphant laughter. From behind a mast, the Lost Boys cry out in victory before charging the captains quarters.

The golden sea stars are ours once more! Daniel tries to shout, but his voice cracks and withers, laced with sleeping medication.

After a sigh, Mrs. Chaney continues, Breakfast is ready in fifteen. Wash up and change, and then why dont you come meet us in the cafeteria?

In the three weeks since he arrived at Mercy Mental Health Hospital, Daniel has learned to recognize the orders concealed within the nurses questions. Or has it been four weeks? Or two months? How many adventures has he undertaken with the Lost Boys?

When Mrs. Chaney withdraws behind his closed door, Daniel begins the struggle to rise. His arms are weary from swordplay, but he knows that an unwashed face smacks of barbaric hygiene. His legs tremble under his weight. Still, he drags his feet against the cold tile of the tiny bathroom. Cheap hospital soap and warm water dry out his skin, so he rubs a sheen of lotion on his chin and cheeks. The supposedly scent-free cream wafts into his nose with the sting of disinfectant.

After swiping a toothbrush across his teeth and tongue, he stumbles to the dresser. Trading plain blue pajamas for a plain gray T-shirt and sweatpants feels tediously unnecessary, but the hospital attendants frown upon pajamas in the cafeteria. As he fits his feet into slippers, he realizes that hes forgotten to fix his hair. A second visit to the bathroom has him combing his fingers through the messy brown waves that fall doggishly to his eyebrows. He catches his own reflected gaze. The world seems to slow around him.

There, in the mirror, a boy stares back at him, and even though Daniel knows that its his own reflection, he barely recognizes the pale, lifeless figure. Daniel cautiously lifts a hand to knock on the glass, and the boy in the mirror follows. He and his reflection lower their fists in tandem. As a cold sweat breaks out across Daniels forehead and palms, his throat pulses in time with his thrashing heart. He takes a step back. The reflection reciprocates. Daniel ducks under the cover of the sink, burying his head in his knees.