The Rise of the Phoenix Read Online Free PDF Page A

again. Free of pain. Like getting a new pair every day. It was bittersweet really. He had hoped he could walk himself to death, envisioning wearing his feet away like the eraser on top of a pencil, until there was nothing left of him.
    He huddled in bus shelters at night. Or if he was lucky, he found a building that had been vacated. There were a few of those. Mostly, they belonged to Humans , but ready to be sold onto Others . “Give the rats derelict cages,” his father used to say. “And hope that one day the roof falls in and kills them. Like God’s hand.” Would he still wish that even now? Yes, maybe he would. Perhaps he would push the roof in himself.
    His legs screamed for him to stop, but he wouldn’t permit it. It wasn’t yet dark. “Just a little farther,” he promised himself. His throat was parched and burnt like fire each time he swallowed. Sweat trickled down his forehead and his back, but his skin was cold to the touch. A fever perhaps. Hot liquid seared his stomach, nothing he ate seeming to sate his excruciating hunger. He’d feed on anything he could find or steal. Mostly it had been scraps.
    Yesterday, he had plunged his hand into a rubbish bin, where some kids had thrown away half eaten burgers outside a known food chain, and had gulped down the discarded food in two bites. The smell had been too enticing and he had not been able to resist.  He hadn't even chewed really, just practically swallowed it whole.
    It hadn’t been enough, though. He had run away before he was tempted to throw the lid from the bin and search inside with ravenous desperation. His w olf had pleaded with him. He was so hungry.
    It didn’t make sense to him. When the pleading started, it crawled under his skin. He could almost hear the pained whimpers of an animal, but the sounds weren’t in his head, nor were they outside. They came from within. He clutched his head in those moments, trying to force the wolf back. He didn’t know how to think of him other than a separate entity. He was in his thoughts, separate, but the same.
    He couldn’t decide whether he hated the wolf or whether to embrace it. It was part of him now. It would always be part of him. Their blood flowed together. They were the same. Paired creatures entwined in the skin of one thirteen-year-old boy. But he was the reason his mother had died. The reason for the lingering cuts across his face, arms, and back from his father’s attack. They were almost healed now, the wolf’s doing of course, but they looked like scars now. One scar ran down his forehead, through his eyebrow, tailing off just at the side of his eye. He wondered if they would ever fully heal. He didn’t think they could. Just like his heart, it was torn in a way he never knew possible. How could it heal fully? How could anything go back to how it was before?
    He trudged along, body and mind heavy. Like the echoes of the sea caught in the womb of a seashell, the deafening roar in his head made it impossible to lose himself in his thoughts. They thundered with each step he took until he could no longer bear it. He needed to sleep. He didn’t want to, but he needed to. Sleep brought dreams. Dreams of things he would never have, and dreams of things he didn’t want to see. But whichever they were, they always reminded him of what he had done. Of all the pain that he had caused. The misery, sadness, and the lives he had destroyed. Sometimes, he dreamt that she was holding him and telling him that everything was okay. Perhaps those were the worst ones. They made his heart ache with a longing that cut so deep. Each time he awoke, for just a moment, he could feel the warmth of her embrace. He could feel where she had kissed him on his forehead and told him that it wasn’t his fault. Even the scent of her perfume came through the dreams and lingered in the air. But then that sinking feeling would come in, and his stomach would lurch as the truth of everything filled his mind.
    Other times,