Laura

The small boy of not more than four shivers in cold. He hides inside the old closet in the storage room, on the very bottom shelf behind a box of worn-out toys that he's not allowed to touch. His right-hand covers his mouth while the other clutches a tiny piece of paper to his chest.

He must not make any sounds or else the old man will catch him. It arrived a few minutes ago and he instinctively runs to his hiding spot.

His heart beats so fast as if a drummer is making angry music inside. He closes his eyes and prays that the old man is too drunk that it'll just pass out cold on the floor. He wants everything to stop; the bruises on his body from the last beating haven't healed yet. He doesn't want pain anymore. But his wishes rarely ever come true.

A loud banging sound echoes through the four corners of their small apartment followed by the thundering voice of the old man, "Where are you rat? Where are you hiding? Answer me, right this moment!"

The boy starts to panic, sweat dribbles from his forehead to his bended knees. He breathes out deeply, through the darkness he checks the paper in his hand and straightens it. He swallows the build-up of saliva in his throat, he knows he'll be alright as long as he got her.

However, the fear surrounding him is too much. He swears the old man can hear the drumming in his chest and to make it worse the growling of his stomach. He almost forgets about his hunger, he doesn't even remember the last time he ate. But, it isn't the right time to think about food, there are more aggravating things at hand.

Please. Please, don't let him see me, he whispers repeatedly inside his head but fate never sided on him.

The door of the storage room opens. "Come out now or I will break every bone in your body!" threatens the old man.

The boy stiffens in his spot and stops breathing. In his young mind, he thought it could help him. Nonetheless, the door of the closest opens and the soft artificial light blinds him for a few seconds that he become disoriented.

He doesn't notice the hand that grabs his foot and drags him out of his hiding place.

"Ah! Let me go please, I'm sorry!" he pleads when everything goes back to him.

The old man snickers, "How many times did I tell not to touch my things?" He snatches the paper in the boy's hand but the kid gives a fight. "Dammit, when did you learn to fight? Huh?" He throws the boy to the floor with a loud thud.

Pain immediately registers in the boy's body, he wants to cry but refuses to let the old man see his weakness. Instead, he manages to stand and hides away the thing in his hand behind his back. "This is mine! Don't take it! She's my friend! She is mine!"

The old man's face reddens with anger. "Give that to me! She doesn't belong to you!" He tries to grab the kid's hand once again.

"No!" A hand connects to the boy's face and he drops to the floor. The paper in his hand flies through the air and drops just below the old man's feet.

The smiling face of a woman greets the old man and all the anger in his body doubles. "You thief!"

The boy sniffs back his tears and cradles his hurting cheek. "I am no thief! She's mine. She's my friend. She gave it to me!"

"Why are you talking such nonsense. That thing is hidden in my closet and you stole it! You little rat!" the old man raises his hand to hit again.

"But Laura says she's my friend! And that this is her gift!" the boy shouts making the old man's had frozen in the air.

"How did you know her name?" The guy drops to his knees, the effect of alcohol leaves his system. The kid hasn't learned how to read. It's impossible that he knows her name without anyone telling him but there's no one in the house! But how is it possible? "Tell me how did you know her name!" He grabs the boy's shoulders, slightly shaking him.

"She told me!"

"Don't you dare lie to me! That's impossible! She's... she's--" The old man couldn't finish the words, he doesn't want the pain that comes with that word.

"But I am not telling lies. She told me in my dreams. She says she's Laura and that no matter what happens. I shouldn't get angry with you. She told me to have patience because you're sad. You're sad that you couldn't be with her anymore." There's a tremble in the kid's voice, he's scared. "She visits me every night in my dreams...telling me stories about you two, how you met in the beach on a summer vacation of her senior year. She also told me how you were happy when you heard the news of my coming. And then how you got devasted when you lose her..."

Tears flow down the old man's face. And for the first time, he looks at his son's face with love and affection. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I've been a horrible father to you. Oh god, what am I been doing?"

The boy hugs the old man, his thin scrawny arms wrap around the man's shoulders. "It's okay, Laura said you just have a stubborn head. She said you'll love me too that I should just wait. And I always love you."

The guy pulls out from the embrace and holds the boy. "I promise to do good this time."

The boy nods. His father pulls him again in a tight embrace. The boy is elated and he couldn't be more than happy. He looks from behind his father's back and smiles. "Thank you," he mouths through the air, looking ahead as if talking to someone.

Author's Notes: Laura or Lora comes from an African word that means dream. This is my try to join a writing prompt. And this is prompt #16 Dream of @JonicaBradley