“Get inside, Jasper!” Lori slammed the door over and over, screaming and cursing. Jasper didn’t say anything; he just looked down and picked at his reddened fingertips.

  “Good riddance. Waste of a man. Whatever you do, don’t grow up to be anything like him.” A moment of silence hung between them. “Don’t look at me like that, Jasper. Just go to your room, will ya?”

  Jasper’s face went blank. He slowly walked over to his room and mumbled under his breath, “I don’t want to go to my room.”

  “Excuse me?” Lori snapped back, shifting her anger from Miles to Jasper.

  “Why should I have to go to my room? I didn’t do anything,” he responded earnestly.

  “Don’t you talk back to me, Jasper.” She grabbed his ear and twisted, the sharp sting of pain echoing in his own skull. Something inside him snapped — hot and sharp. Whatever softness he had left for her burned away in an instant, incinerated by a bitter rage that rushed through him uncontrollably.

  “No!” He hit her hand off of his ear and pushed her backwards. “Get your hands off of me!”

  Surprised by his response, she yelled back, “Get the fuck out. Go sleep outside for all I fucking care. I hope you starve tonight.”

  He turned around and opened the door. “I’m hungry every night! You never buy food! I’ll just come back when you’re already asleep!” He slammed the door behind him, numbness tingling in his chest, and went over to Marcus’ house to play Mario Kart.

  Jasper hesitated for a moment outside Marcus’ front door, steeling himself before stepping inside. The familiar scent of incense masking something more pungent hit him immediately as he entered.

  His eyes adjusted to the dim light, revealing the cluttered living room where Marcus’ older brother, Jon, and mother, Teresa, sat surrounded by haphazard piles of small, plastic packets. The coffee table was coated in white powder and scattered with tiny baggies. Jasper barely noticed it anymore.

  Jon worked with a stoic efficiency, sealing each packet with practiced hands, while Teresa handled the funds with a weariness that echoed in her tired eyes. This was nothing new to Jasper, so he said his hellos and walked straight to Marcus’ room.

  At 10:30 p.m., he walked back home as some man was leaving his apartment. He opened the door and saw his mother passed out drunk, scantily dressed on the couch with some cash thrown next to her.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  As he walked past her, the open pill bottles and the empty beer cans, he covered her with a throw blanket and walked to the kitchen, scouring for anything to eat as his stomach rumbled.

  As he searched, his mother’s phone rang and she wiped the sleep from her eyes as she set up her next appointment. Jasper found some crackers, grabbed the half-eaten sleeve and ate them in his room alone in a moment of emotional dissociation.

  At school, it was like none of the drama from his home life existed. School offered a respite where a happier and more carefree Jasper emerged.

  Sometimes when Jasper would go quiet and stare at nothing, Aurea would grab his hand to bring him back into the moment. She never asked what he was thinking about because it didn’t seem like he was ready to tell.

  As the weeks went by, Jasper never hesitated to share simple, affectionate moments with Aurea, whether it be a kiss on the cheek or a small heartfelt gift, like a pretty flower he walked by.

  That next early morning, however, Jasper's world was rocked by a violent altercation he overheard. A bottle shattered against the wall in his living room before the yelling woke him up.

  “Give me my money and get out!” Lori screamed.

  A man roared back, “I’m not giving you shit!” The man’s voice was distinct. His words were cut short by a heavy, productive cough—a deep, wet thudding that sounded like boots stepping through thick mud. It wasn't a sick cough; it was a permanent one, a rattling vibration that ended in a sharp, phlegmy catch.

  The door slammed. Jasper bolted out of his room. “Mom? What happened?” he cried.

  “Get back in your room, Jasper!” she barked.

  “What if he comes back?” his voice shook.

  Lori spun, grabbed the broken bottle, and yanked him by the ear again. Jasper hit his bedroom floor hard. His eyes darted to his wooden bedframe—where he’d carved his name back in first grade.

  “You never listen!” she hissed, pointing the jagged glass toward him. He scrambled backward, heart pounding, scooting into the closet like she wanted. She slammed the closet door and locked it.

  “No! Let me out!” Jasper begged, beating the door with his fists. No answer.

  Lori’s gaze flicked to something on the floor. A note. “What’s this?” she asked, snatching it up. “A love note?”

  She scoffed, “Love’s not real, Jasper. That girl will break your heart. Just wait.”

  But he believed her—Aurea—when she circled yes. His breathing sped up. His fingers went to their familiar punishment—rubbing them on the pokey stubble on the closet floor and picking the resulting scabs until they bled. Red smeared across the wood floor, mixing with the old, crusty stains.

  Suddenly his tears stopped. His breathing steadied. Everything inside him went quiet.

  He stood and slammed his shoulder into the door—again and again. Too small. Too weak. Too tired. Finally he sank down, pulled some clothes off hangers, made a little nest on the floor, and curled up, shivering until it was time for school.

  Those last few hours had been terrible for Jasper, but he was looking forward to seeing his girl at school soon. When the morning bell went off, Jasper was almost to class. He maneuvered around the adult standing at the classroom’s front door and rushed over to his seat.

  As he sat down, he noticed Aurea was standing up. She stared down at the ground and quickly left the classroom without making any eye contact with Jasper.

  Not understanding what was going on, he noticed Aurea’s friend, Christy Judes, waving something at him to catch his attention. She passed him a note that he quickly opened and read.

  “Aurea wants to break up.”

  Jasper's hands trembled as he clutched the note, his heart sinking, the crumpled paper feeling like the weight of the world pressing into his palm. In the silence of his mind, questions and denials clashed; disbelief and shock etched onto his face.

  He looked up slowly, his eyes darting across the room in search of Aurea. But she had vanished—like their fleeting moments of happiness.

  He crumpled the paper harder. She didn’t even have the heart to do it herself. His mother was right. Love’s not real.

  Feeling the sting of tears coming, he shoved the note into his pocket and walked out of the classroom without a word. No one noticed. They never did.

  That day, he walked off campus and didn’t look back. It was the first time he ever skipped school. It wouldn’t be the last.