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man’s breath on his shoulder. That helped him remember when the man had cut off his clothes. But what had happened after that? He couldn’t remember. He took a deep breath. His lungs felt full of water—like he had been swimming at the lake all day.
    The lights came on and the boy could see—the burlap bag had been removed. He blinked frantically to clear his vision. He didn’t know when he had last used his eyes, but they felt brand new to him. At that moment he would have given anything to be able to rub his eyes—they were sticky and uncomfortable.
    The room came into focus all at once—at first the cinder blocks looked impossibly close and then his eyes adjusted and his perspective was restored. He didn’t recognize his clothes. Seconds later he realized he wasn’t wearing clothes.
    When he wiggled his toes, the illusion was shattered. Every part of his body that he could see was painted. Tendons and bones adorned his feet. Muscles were painted up his legs. A clear tube protruded from his penis, dotted with a caterpillar of yellow liquid inside. His abdomen displayed pictures of what he guessed were internal organs. On his arms the illustrated muscles were drawn back to show the bones down to his hands. Another clear tube entered the vein in his right arm and travelled to a bag with clear liquid.
    The boy took inventory of his restraints—wrists, waist, and ankles were strapped to the chair. All of these observations took place in the course of two shallow breaths and a gasp. As he slowly exhaled, the movement of his stomach brought a new reality. Some of the internal organs were indeed painted, but some were his actual insides, visible through the missing skin and muscle of his gut.
     
     



Stephen
     
    “Hey Jack, just in time,” his mom said as he walked in the basement door.
    “Yeah? For what?” Jack asked.
    “I just got off the phone with Mrs. Alexander,” his mom said. Jack caught his breath; it was a few seconds before he put together who she meant: Stephen’s mom.
    “She said that Stephen should be here in two hours,” she continued. “I don’t know what she would have done if we weren’t home.”
    “So, four o’clock?” Jack asked as Ben walked in.
    “Yes, or a little before,” she turned to Ben. “Stephen will be here around four.”
    “Oh, okay,” Ben said.
    “I’ll be right back,” said Jack as he headed back outside. He wanted to make sure the campsite wasn’t trashed. Jack needed to look at their home with fresh eyes to see where Stephen would find fault. He came around the bushes and saw the tent, cooler, chairs, and fire-pit. Everything looked good to him so he tidied up and then headed back to the house.
    Ben had gone upstairs for his shower when Jack came back in the house.
    “You guys okay? You seem out of it,” commented Jack’s mom.
    “Sure, yeah,” replied Jack.
    “You like Stephen, right?”
    “Yeah, of course. I don’t know him that well though,” said Jack.
    “That’s true,” his mom said. “You spent some time together two summers ago, right?”
    “Yeah, he came to Ben’s house for a couple of weeks,” replied Jack.
    “Well good—you can pick up where you left off,” she said.
    Jack hoped not—where he and Stephen had left off was close to a fist-fight. He knew he would have to make the best of this situation, but he dreaded having to hear how much better Stephen’s house, family, and life were.
     
    **********
     
    That afternoon at three-thirty the boys went out and sat on the curb. All summer they had tracked the progress of the sidewalk construction crew moving through the neighborhood. They had decided long before to try to get their names in the wet cement when it was laid in front of Jack’s house. Based on their observations, they guessed their opportunity was still weeks away, but they hadn’t deciphered the order of the streets.
    A few minutes after four a cab from several towns away pulled up.
    “He must have taken a cab from