Page 1 of King of Ruin

“And when all was said and done, the little boy knew what the old man said to be true. ‘No matter how small you are. No matter how insignificant you think yourself to be. You have the power to save the world, you just have to believe it.’” The skin on my mom’s eyes wrinkles in the corner as she smiles at me, closing the old book.

It’s her favorite bedtime story, and even though she reads it to me every night, I still don’t believe anything in it.

It’s kind of like listening to a story about mermaids and unicorns, or wizards and dragons. It would be so cool if it were real, but some stuff is better left in between the pages of the crumpled book we found at Goodwill.

Still, when she reads it to me, patting her big, round belly, it’s the only time she seems happy. Like the shadows that always follow behind her finally disappear, even if just for the ten minutes it takes for her to fill my head with all the dreams she wants me to believe in

And they are just dreams.

My father spent the summer making sure of it. It was on my seventh birthday that he showed up and taught me a thing or two aboutreality.

The word is hard for me to say, and I don’t know exactly what it means, but I understand how it feels. And it feels like pain. Hot, scary, and dark.

The man with the shiny head comes to get me every Wednesday at the same time. The first time it happened, my heart nearly exploded. I was so excited. The long, black car with dark windows and glossy seats made me feel like one of those movie stars I see on TV. I thought maybe my dad had lots of money and was going to give me some as a birthday gift so I could buy Mommy that footrest she whispers about wanting.

She’s always on her feet. Working and working and working until it’s way past my bedtime. But I always stay up and wait for her to come home no matter how heavy my eyelids get. I want to tell her how many steps baby Fi walked that day. Or the funny faces she made when I gave her broccoli. Fi hates broccoli.

But on Wednesdays, I don’t get to tell her. The nice lady who lives two doors down has to instead because the shiny headed man comes and gets me.

He takes me to the man with a belly bigger than my mommy, and cheeks pinker than Santa. For a while, I thought hewasSanta. His house is giant, bigger than ten of my schools stacked on top of each other. He has men running in and out of the place, always asking what they can do for him, just like elves.

When he opens his big arms, and laughs, his whole body shakes with joy. I thought maybe that’s why he couldn’t be around to help me and mommy. Because he had the whole world to worry about and presents to deliver.

And for a moment, a small moment, I thought maybe the stories were real. Maybe it meant that dragons and unicorns were too. And if that were true, then maybe someone small like me could be enough to change the world.

In those moments, I was the happiest seven-year-old that ever lived. And in the next,realitycovered me in complete darkness. Like a storm that moved over the perfect picnic. And with the first smack of his hand, the sky cracked open and flooded over me, stealing whatever dreams of happiness I had.

He taught me that I was nothing more than a tool he would shape with fire, just like the Play-Doh I mold when playing with Fi. He taught me who I am, and that I willneverbe able to save the world.

My name is Ezekiel Liam Kane. I am the son of Lucy Kane, and the don, Phineas Murphy. I am to tell no one of who I am or where I go on Wednesday nights. I am to wait, watch, and learn.

And one day, my father will call on me to do something that will set my mother and sisters free. Free from the cracked walls that let spiders in when the weather gets too cold. From the four buckets we have to put on the X’s my mommy drew in marker, so it catches the rain that drips from the ceiling.

Free from the men that come around late at night when I’m supposed to be in bed sleeping and yell bad things at my mommy before hitting her.

And I’ll do anything to set us free.

So I say yes.

Yes to the pain.

Yes to the fear.

To the dark closets, and horrible sounds.

To learning to lie to my second grade teacher, Mrs. Whim, about the dark colors on my arms and under my eyes. And about why on Thursday mornings I don’t do too good on spelling tests.

Even though almost a year has passed since my first yes, I know one day, when Wednesday comes, it won’t be cloudy anymore.

Baby Fiona coos from her small crib, drawing both me and Mommy’s attention. Mom is due to have my new baby sister tomorrow so she came home early from work today. It will be the first time she’s here when the bald man comes.

She worries so much when I’m gone, that when I come back, she inspects my body three times over, treats any wounds, and then cries before taking a short nap. I don’t think she sleeps while I’m gone.

Lifting Fi on her hip, she pushes her long brown hair over her shoulder so Fi can’t grab it. “Did you like that story, baby girl?”

Fi giggles and waves her hand. “Yah, yah. Gin, gin.”

My mommy laughs, the sweet sound filling the tiny room and making me smile even though the bright clock on the wall says it’s almost time. “Alright, I’ll read it again. But first, let’s get you a night time bottle.”

---