Living in Ravens was hell, even for a kid. This place made bad people, my own parents being no exception to the rule. I'm scared for my own future. I consider myself a good person, but I think living here too long will make me hateful and evil. I would like to believe my parents were once positive and nice people, but I have never seen that side of them.
I was in bed trying to fall asleep while ignoring my aching tummy. I was hungry.
Mom made enough food for all of us but scoffed at me when I thought I was deserving of eating the meal she had put so much effort in when I had been sitting around twiddling my thumbs not helping out around the house or with our finances. How would I help them though? I was only seven.
Eventually I had drifted to sleep, but my slumber was short lived when I heard the glass window across from my bed shattering. I slowly rub my eyes sitting up, yawning. This wasn't totally out of character for this town so I wasn't shocked that the house had been broken into.
If anything, the thing that surprised me was the carelessness of the intruder, usually the folks of Ravens were expert thieves and criminals, this loud entrance was sure to be a failure for the culprit.
I sit up sleepily, hiding slightly behind my covers knowing my parents would have heard the noise and would be in here in moments.
I courageously lowered the blanket from my eyes. I expected a careless drunkard or violent looking burglar, but I was surprised to see another kid. My mouth formed an "O" shape as I quickly examined his appearance. My little seven year old heart swooned looking at the slightly older boy with spiky pale blue hair, bored looking crimson eyes, and tattered maroon clothes.
The tiredness left my body, wanting to protect this kid. My parents wouldn't care that it was a child, they'd still punish the intruder.
Sounds of my parents' footsteps approached my room rapidly and I knew I had to take action.
I jumped up out of my bed, the boy looked at me confusedly, unsure of my intentions. It looked as if he was about to say something, but there was no time. I quickly approached him and braced his shoulders with my hands. For a moment our eyes locked and I finally knew what it was like to have a crush like the other kids on the block. He was so cute, I was flustered just from looking at him and lightly touching him.
The boy squirmed in my hold, but I quickly shushed him and shoved his small body into the closet next to the window. "Stay there," I whispered.
I took a step away from the closet hoping that he would listen to me. My door slammed open a second later and I was faced with my father holding a club to defend his household. His eyes quickly scanned the room and then focused in onto me seeing no one else present. He threw the club to the side. He approached me, bending down slightly to match my height better and gripped my chin forcing me to look up at him.
"What the fuck are you doing brat?" His hold on me was tight and I began to squirm trying to think of an excuse. "Are you trying to run away or something bitch? You coulda just fucking walked out the front door instead of shattering my goddamn window. No one woulda stopped you! God, it would be a blessing if you left kid!" He screamed in my face, undoubtedly turning to violence would be the next step in his rampage.
He released my chin pushing me back a few steps. I put my head down and cried out an apology, "I'm sorry Daddy, it was a mistake, I was just--" He slapped me across the face and grabbed my throat with one of his giant hands, pulling me up to his height. I began choking, desperately trying to claw his hands off of my neck.
Seconds before I would have passed out, he threw me to the floor and continued his attacks; kicking my sides, punching my face, and yelling at me. I whimpered and cried, secretly wishing the boy would come and help me, but simultaneously being grateful that he did listen to me and stayed put. It was selfish of me to want him to help.
In my eyes, the pain was worth it. My dad wouldn't kill his daughter, but if he had seen the little boy who had broken in, he would have no problem killing him.
Eventually he grew tired of beating me and picked up the earlier discarded club, grumbling as he left my room, shutting the door behind him. I sniffled a bit, then tried to hoist myself up to return back to the closet to let the boy out. I limped over and opened the closet door. I was surprised and disappointed when I saw he had somehow snuck out when my dad and I were distracted. At least he didn't get hurt, I thought.
I couldn't deny I was upset that I couldn't talk to him though, I didn't have many... or any... friends, and I just was pulled to him for some reason.
I tried to forget about him as I limped to the bathroom in the hallway to wash off some of the blood in the sink. I looked up at myself in the cracked mirror and puffed up my cheeks blowing out the air frustratingly. A big hand shaped bruise started appearing around my neck along with scattered bruises and scrapes along my body and face.
Guess I should try to get some sleep, Dad will probably send me into town tomorrow to get the materials to fix the window.
Stupid cute boy having to break my stupid window, I pouted to myself. Hopefully I'll run into the stupid, cute boy tomorrow when in town, I smiled at the thought, my heart feeling a little warm and fuzzy.
