He cried a lot but today’s tears were different. Sadness was a word too small to describe what he felt. His eyes stung as he lay down his head on his pillow, moist eyelashes leaving a trail of blurry lines across the fabric. The softness of his mother’s hand smoothed over his cheek and he turned away from her quickly, not wanting her to spot the tears.
“I’m sure something came up…he’ll be home soon,” she whispered, pulling back her hand as if she had just burned it.
Silently, he shook his head, his hair brushing against the cold mattress. The soothing words hurt him even more because he knew they weren’t true.
“Liar,” he lisped, clenching the sheets in his fists.”Why does everyone lie to me?”
“Hush now,” the once so proud woman spoke the words she was told herself by her husband so many times.
She was astonished every time again at how brutally precise her ten-year-old son could be, grasping reality with both his hands, despite her efforts of hiding it underneath a blanket of excuses. This tiny boy, with arms as strong as kitten paws, would perhaps do what she never could in life, stand up for himself.
Scream the truth although he knew it would be broken into little pieces. At least he’d be free when speaking his mind,at least he wouldn’t lose himself in the oppression of his bitter father. Maybe this boy was the part of her that was still willing to fight.
“Mom…” his voice broke through her thoughts. “When I grow up, when I’ll be a big boy, mom, I’ll never talk to him again.”
———–10 years later———–
Up till this day, he had lived in a deep slumber, dreaming of ways to escape the father not caring for him, not even coming home on Christmas evenings. Up till this day, he had looked his father in the eye when the man asked him a question, he had replied, polite and well-mannered. Up till this day, he had been nothing but a little boy scared of losing the father he never even had.
When he woke up this morning, the daydreaming had turned into clear vision. The downy hairs on his chin stubbornly present again. He stripped himself from being a child and dressed like a man for the first time. His reflection in the mirror looked confused, but he was determined not to turn away from it this time.
Wearing an old suitcase in one hand and his pride in the other, he slowly strode into the livingroom. His father would have never looked up if his mother hadn’t gasped so loud.
“Well don’t you look all dressed up,” the man wove his right hand into his grey hair, not emerging from the chair he was sitting in.
The boy pressed his eyes shut, ignoring his father’s comment and tenderly kissed his mother’s forehead, whispering “Don’t blame yourself for anything.”
When he walked out of the door, ragged up clothes, a busted lip, he didn’t look back. Just seconds ago when his father had pinned him against the wall in a rage because his son acted as if he wasn’t even there, he had endured every blow and mean word. His silence was the biggest defense, the biggest way of showing he no longer cared. He had turned his head away from the angry face he had gotten so used to. His mother sobbing in the background, like a soundtrack to a movie.
He would never return home again.
Nights when he ghosted through the room, thinking about his mother alone in his old home, her pain of losing not only herself but also her only child, made the old tears come back. But this time, caring arms of a woman he loved would hold him. That little boy would come out again, no longer able to hide, but she made everything alright.
Because when he left the agony behind, all that was packed in that old suitcase was his hope to find love. He found it when a girl later called him inside her home after he’d been wandering outside in the pouring rain for hours, trying to figure out what to do next. She covered him in blankets and smiles and he never left her side again. Just like that.
The day his father died, he spoke again for the first time.
“I love you.”
☆✿ ☆✿☆✿ ☆✿·٠•●♥ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ♥●✿✿.｡.:* ☆:* ✿ *:☆*.:｡.✿✿●♥ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ♥●•٠·✿ ☆✿ ☆✿ ☆✿ ☆
Thanks for reading.It’s been a little while since I posted a story but I believe you should only write something when it’s from the heart x