Scott felt frozen. The room suddenly felt far colder than it was. His mind reeled as he stared at the pile of clothes on the nightstand. They were Luke’s clothes—or rather, his clothes now—and he could already see the childishness of the whole outfit. It felt like another slap to the face. The soft fabric of the shorts shimmered faintly in the hospital lighting. He picked them up gingerly and winced at the feel of the lightweight, silky material between his fingers. It was what a kid would wear on a lazy summer day, running through sprinklers or playing video games, and yet, it was what he had to wear now.
He sat on the edge of the bed, legs dangling over the side, and forced himself to get dressed. The silk-like shorts slid up his legs awkwardly. They barely made it halfway down his thighs, the elastic waistband snapping into place around his slim hips. It was humiliating. Scott, a grown man, now confined to wearing clothes meant for an 8th-grade boy. The soccer top followed, emblazoned with the middle school’s team name across the chest. It was tight, the fabric clinging in ways Scott couldn’t stand. Every movement reminded him of how small he’d become, how childlike and powerless he now was.
He sat there for a moment, staring at the mismatched socks on the floor. Of course, Luke couldn’t be bothered to match his socks. One was striped blue, the other solid red. He could almost hear Luke’s bratty laughter in his head as he yanked them on. Lastly, he grabbed the pair of briefs—brightly colored, covered in some ridiculous cartoon he didn’t recognize. His face burned as he pulled them up, knowing that these were what he would be forced to wear now.
As Scott finished dressing, the door opened, and in walked Luke’s mother. No, not Luke’s mother, he thought bitterly. My mother. He had met her before during parent-teacher conferences, during which she seemed so aloof, never particularly concerned about the chaos Luke brought to school. He had found it infuriating at the time, and now here she was, grinning like everything was perfectly fine.
“Luke, sweetheart, you look adorable in those clothes,” she cooed, as though this situation wasn’t a complete nightmare for Scott. “Your father and I talked about it, and well... it just makes more sense for everyone if we keep calling you Luke. We don’t want to confuse the neighbors or the teachers. So, from now on, you’re Luke Redmond, our little boy. Isn’t that nice?” She didn’t even wait for a response, the decision already made without his input.
Scott—Luke now, as far as everyone else was concerned—just stared at her in disbelief. His whole identity was being stripped away layer by layer. His body, his name, his life. He wanted to scream, to argue, but what good would it do? He was just a kid now, trapped in this tiny, powerless body, with no one to take him seriously.
Mrs. Redmond turned on her heel and beckoned him to follow. “Come on, sweetie, let’s get you home. You’ve got a whole new life ahead of you, and I think you’ll love the house. It’s much bigger than the one you’re used to!”
Scott—Luke—dragged his feet behind her, feeling like a prisoner being led to his cell. The Redmonds lived in a mansion, something he had only glimpsed from the outside before. Now, it would be his home, his cage. They arrived at the house in what felt like a blur, and Mrs. Redmond walked him through each room with a smile on her face.
“This is the kitchen. I’ll make sure to pack you healthy lunches for school. And here’s the living room. Your father and I like to watch TV in here after dinner, but we’ll find a show you like too, I’m sure.” She walked with a kind of dismissive cheerfulness that made Scott’s stomach turn. The house was massive—far larger than anything he could’ve afforded in his old life—but it didn’t feel like his. It was just a hollow shell of luxury.
“And here’s your room!” she finally announced, pushing open a door to reveal a brightly decorated room with posters of video game characters, a large bean bag chair, and shelves full of action figures and toys. Scott wanted to gag. This was what his life had become—a child’s life, trapped in a world where everything he once valued had been taken from him.
Mrs. Redmond patted his shoulder. “You’ll get used to it, Luke. Now, why don’t you get settled in? We’ll call you for dinner later.” And with that, she left, closing the door behind her with a soft click.
Scott—Luke—stood there, staring at the gaudy, childish room. He felt sick, trapped, and utterly alone.