"Scotty, why aren't you outside playing?" asked his mother. She was busy in the kitchen, making something with all those gadgets she had in there. He wasn't sure what she was making, but it smelled good. It was probably a new recipe. His mother was fond of those. "It's a lovely day and you could use the fresh air."
"I dunno," he answered, picking at a scab that decorated one knobby kneecap. He sat alone on the couch in the living room, trying not to look at all the other kids playing ball out in the street. Lazy dark curls brushed against his forehead as he flopped down on his back. "Just don't want to, I guess."
Her disapproving sigh was hard on him. It was not his favorite thing to do, disappointing his mother. He was afraid to tell her the truth, though, that he was scared to go outside. He'd never been scared to go outside until just recently and she wouldn't believe him. She'd probably end up sending him to his room without supper for lying – even though it wasn't really a lie – and that scared him even more. Last night had proven that he wasn't safe anywhere. Last night, they'd stolen him from his bedroom in a flash of lights and whispering sound...and woken no one else in the house.
"Well, I wish you would do something," his mother continued to prod him. He heard the scrape of a spoon against the side of a bowl. "It's not good for you to just be sitting around doing nothing."
"I'm not doing nothing," he protested.
"Then what are you doing?"
"Staring out the window." Even as the words left his lips, he knew how lame they were. If she peeked in, she would easily discover he was sprawled on his back. That was not going to aid his cause, but it was too late now. He pulled up his knee and continued to pick at it, wincing as the scab came free, the not quite healed wound beneath welling up with bright red blood. For lack of any other way to stop it, he smashed his fingers hard across it.
"Why don't you go get your glider and play with that out in the backyard if you're not going to play with the other kids, Scotty?" She was starting to sound annoyed. There was no way he was going to be able to get out of following her wishes, he realized.
With an embellished sigh, he replied, "Yes, Mom."
He rolled off the couch and headed for the back door to fulfil as much of the request as possible. His visitors had taken his glider and he knew he'd never have it returned. They'd never returned anything else, after all. Other than him, that was.