I roll my wheel chair to the front door, hoping to go out and hide myself in the darkness of the night. I don't want to be bothered, or anybody to talk to me. It has been one of those days where the pain in my bones has been difficult to live with. The door squeaks as I open it, I hold my breath, hoping nobody hears it.
"Jerome, where are you going?" My mother ask.
I hold up a trembling hand. I grimace in pain as I take my mother's hand. "On the screened in porch like I do every night."
"Turn on the light this time so you can see."
"No! I yell, not meaning too. "Someone might see me," I say. My mother opens the door for me. "I know you don't understand, but please just let me have it my way."
My mother looks as if she wants to aruge, but she dosen't, she she kisses me on the cheek and leaves.
I wheel my chair into the far corner. I haven't always been in a wheel chair. I think it was around the young age of three that I was introduced to my way of getting around. I'm 13, trapped inside an old man's body, I have Progeria Syndrome. My voice is high-pitched, wrinkles cover my skin, and my hair is coming out, and what little I have is already gray.
I sat in the darkness night after night because I will not subject myself to hurtful name calling or people using me as something to stop by and sight see over. I'm sure my time is nearing, my chest tells me my heart is failing. I will not worry my mother, if I die tonight it will be better for me and her. My mother has stuck by me through three hip dislocations and now I have cardiovascular disease. I feel smothered by her care, but I love her and I know she means well.
I love being out here at night, so I can smell the fresh air, and pretend I'm normal. Out here in the night I can't see me and neither can anybody else. I often wonder what's going on in the woods across the street. Maybe there's a worm dangling from a fishing line waiting to catch a fish. Maybe there's a tent set up for two love birds, nestled together inside a sleeping bag making love. I realize I'm breathing hard, and my penis is like a rock. Yeah, I think about sex, but that's all I can do.
I listen to the kids playing in their back yards, I smile when they complain about having to go inside. Dogs barking, cars passing by, lightning bugs giving off flashes of light, I hear and watch it all from the shadows of my own domain. I hear something else, it's me gasping for air. I close my eyes to rest them, but my heart has other plans.
"Jerome, time to come in." His mother leans over him. She screams as she realizes he is gone. She takes his lifeless body into her arms and holds him tight, and she cries in the darkness.
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