The Identical Boy Read Online Free Page B

Awake. He knew without knowing why that shortly he would become a boy too, the same age as him, and then they would share secrets and hoot and laugh and run.
    'Are you even listening to us, boy?' screamed Mum, snapping Sam out of his mind and into the scene.
    'Sorry? Did you say something?' asked Sam, genuinely. Dad's heavy hand struck Sam across the face, sending him tumbling to the floor.
    Sam did not yelp or cry or scream. He lay on his side, slightly dazed, and turned his head to his parents, who loomed large and violent before him. 'Sorry about school, won’t happen again.'
    Mum and Dad looked at each other with mute surprise.
    Sam pushed himself to his feet. 'Can I go to my room now?'
    One blink. Two blink.
    'Yes,' said Mum. 'Yes, off you go. And … and you just think about … everything.'
    'Yes, everything,' Sam agreed, as he walked out of the room, up the stairs, and into his bedroom, shutting the door softly behind him.
     
    ***
     
    It was dark.
    Night.
    Scary late. The sort of hour during which even the most determined of young boys feels worry for being awake. But Sam didn't feel worried. Sam was curled in bed, eyes wide and unseeing, alive alive-oh.
    'Awake,' came a scratchy voice from under his bed. Scratchy but much clearer than earlier.
    'Awake,' said Sam.
    'Friend,' said the voice.
    Sam nodded. He knew the creature would feel his agreement.
    'Dream now.'
    Sam nodded again and his eyelids fluttered. They shut once. Then again. Then for the night.
    And now Sam dreamt. For the first time in so long, no hand reached out to guide him Between, and he dove deep into the dream.
    In his dream, he ran and he laughed. He held a sword and he was chasing something, his friend beside him. Ally, too.
    'Get the creeps!' Ally shouted, and the boy and Sam laughed as they ran Sam's parents to ground.
    They wept then, the parents, and begged and wheedled and whimpered, but the decision had already been made. The boy nodded and Sam pushed his sword through his mother’s neck. The look of surprise on her face made the boy snigger, and that made Sam laugh too.
    He pulled the sword clear of Mum's neck and she collapsed. Turning to wet paper, she sagged and tore and was washed away.
    Sam turned to Dad, but Dad would beg no more. Dad shouted and swore and spat.
    'Look at him,' said the boy. 'Look how he curses and screams and threatens. What do we even need him for, really? We have each other, don't we?'
    'And Ally,' said Sam.
    'But she's a girl. That won't really do.'
    Sam chopped off his Dad's head with one swipe of his sword and watched as it rolled away and away, still cursing all the while, until it was just a dot, and then nothing at all. A red slug slime was left in its wake.
    He turned to see what Ally made of the whole thing, but she wasn't there anymore.
    The boy was laughing again. 'Let's go find Dad's head. We could kick it, or pull out its tongue. Something fun, anyway.' The boy ran off ahead, following the blood ribbon.

~Chapter Eight~
     
     
    Withi n a day, the creature could stand on two feet and shuffle weakly across the floor under its own steam. Sam stole biscuits and bread from the cupboard, even a few slices of ham from the fridge, and fed it by hand, allowing it a few mouthfuls of milk to wash the food down.
    Soon enough the creature was too large to fit in the box under the bed and so Sam made a nest for it inside the trunk at the end of the bed that housed his toys. He cleared out the plastic figures and replaced them with a few hand towels, t-shirts, and an old Christmas jumper. He lifted the creature, which weighed very little, and placed it in its bed.
    'Have you been sneaking food again? This ham’s halfway gone,' said Mum.
    'I told you, I haven't touched your bloody ham, woman!' replied Dad.
    'I don't even like ham,' said Sam, truthfully.
    'Oh, well, I suppose it was ghosts then, was it? Okay, then. Fine!'
    At night Sam would tell stories from his imagination to the creature. It would peer at him