Poor Bobby.

*Knock Knock Knock*

'I guess that's the police... why am I sweating?'

I get up and pass through the hallway to the door. As I'm walking, my nervousness starts becoming stronger and stronger. It feels unnatural though. I feel part of it that is mine, but it isn't that much.

'It must be my empathy.'

Realizing that it is my newfound power, and that I'm likely feeling the officer's nerves, I clamp down on my mind to try to prevent it from acting up. It's weird to be feeling other people's emotions. Opening the door with my good arm, I'm met with a man in a police uniform.

'That hat looks pretty odd.' I laugh a little in my head.

He speaks up after just a moment.

"Hello there."

"Hi." I respond. No one can say I don't know how to hold a good conversation!

"I got your call and was sent over to check things out here. May I come in?"

"Oh, sure." I wave him in.

As we walk down the hall, he again starts talking.

"You had said on the phone that your family isn't home right now. Are they still out?"

"Yes." I nod.

We get to the living room, and I pause for a moment to think.

'How should I tell him about all that's been happening to me? Maybe a tour of my room?'

"You said your arm was hurt as well?" The officer looks towards me trying to spot if I have any serious injury.

"Yeah. When my uncle threw me, I hit the wall, and I think my shoulder was dislocated or something."

"He threw you. Why did he do that?" He furrows his brows with a worried look on his face.

"Well... I made a bad breakfast." I say shortly as if that will explain it well enough.

"A... bad breakfast? What do you mean?"

"I overcooked the eggs and burnt the bacon. Looking back, I it was definitely a mistake seeing as how he ran at me, grabbed my shoulder, and threw me into my room. And yeah, my shoulder still hurts every time I move it."

'At least it isn't swelling a whole lot.'

The look of worry on his face increases even more as I get further through my little speech.

"Well... can I see your room? I assume it's upstairs?"

"No. It's the room under the stairs. It's been mine for as long as I can remember."

I walk him over to the small door, and open it for him to see the dark, dusty, and cramped room. That, in combination with all the worn items, bed, sheets, clothes, etc., doesn't provide a picture of a proper child's room.

--- Officer POV (Earlier) ---

*Sigh*

'Ah great.' I think.

I was just notified by dispatch to go check out a call they got about a child being hurt by their uncle.

I can think of two ways this is going to go. Either the child is calling about almost nothing, and I'll have to talk to him and his family about how they shouldn't call emergency services for nothing, or the other, which is something I really hope isn't the case. The kid could be in a bad situation.

Seeing as I am only about 15 minutes out, I start on my way.

--- Time Skip ---

*Sigh*

*Knock Knock Knock*

I knock on the door trying to prepare myself mentally for this crap.

'I'm likely going to be sighing a lot no matter what the issue is here. These calls are always a bit of a pain to be honest.'

A few moments of waiting later, the door opens. The kid looks scrawny and looks pretty nervous if the little bit of sweat and quickly shifting eyes is anything to go off of.

'Well... it could just be that he's skinny and is nervous around law enforcement.' I hold off on making a judgement based on my first impression.

I'll try to seem as nice as possible, just in case.

"Hello there."

"Hi." He looks proud at that. Well, whatever.

"I got your call and was sent over to check things out here. May I come in kiddo?"

I need to see the house to make sure everything is ok, especially his room. That's the most likely place I'll be able to find a real indication of what his real situation is like. The rest of the house is likely perfectly normal if he is being abused or something.

Walking down the hallway, we pass by the stairs, and through the door at the end of the hall that leads to an open kitchen/dining room/living room area.

"You said your arm was hurt as well?"

I try to speak as softly as possible. Not something I'm used to doing, but I try to.

"Yeah. When my uncle threw me, I hit the wall, and I think my shoulder was dislocated or something."

'Oh dear. This isn't looking good.' My face falls.

I ask him why. His face scrunches a bit, and he looks down.

"Well... I made a bad breakfast." What does he mean by that? Was he punished for something as menial as that?

I ask him to explain, hoping for a good explanation.

"I overcooked the eggs and burnt the bacon. Looking back, I think it was a mistake seeing as how he ran at me, grabbed my shoulder, and threw me into my room. And yeah, my shoulder still hurts every time I move it."

"Well... can I see your room? I assume it's upstairs?"

It looks like there are no bedrooms down on this floor. Only the kitchen, dining room, living room, and a couple small closets.

"No. It's that cupboard under the stairs." He squints his eyes and looks up a little. "It's been my room for as long as I can remember."

I pause.

'What?' I frown deeply.

He indicates me to follow him, and we walk over to the small door of the cupboard. I take note of the lock on the outside of the door.

The kid finally opens the door, and it takes a moment for me to process all of what's inside.

'Ratty blankets, old and chipped nightstand, lumpy bed, and a bunch of oversized hand-me-down clothes stacked in a corner. The whole room is covered in a thick layer of dust and wood particles. The room is like a hobo's hideout compared to the rest of the house. Oh no... I'm going to need to call this in.'