scars

04

Four months.

It's been four months since he's seen my scars.

Since those four months he comes to the shop everyday.

The small shop at the end of the street hidden by trees and bushes.

The same shop that I was left alone at as a child.

His dark brown hair sits nicely around his face.

Covering the top of his forehead.

But not too much.

His eyes always full of excitement when he walks in the small shop and see's me sitting here.

He orders the same thing everyday.

A small coffee, and a bagel.

Before he orders he always comes to me first and asks what I want to order.

And everyday I shake my head and look the other way.

I'm not fond of food.

Specially, when someone else is buying it for me.

He talks about his day.

How his parents are separate.

How he misses his father.

"I don't have a father. Or a mother."

His eyes look up from the bagel he was eating.

His hands drop the bagel, and reach for mine.

His warm soft, hands grasp hold of my fragile, cold ones.

"I'm sorry" he whispers.

so am I, I reply in my head

His eyes stare into me.

They don't look away.

"It's rude to stare." I say to him.

He's never stared at me before.

Never.

But today, some things different about him.

He reaches down for his bagel, and finishes the last few bites.

His eyes are still trained on me.

"Don't hurt yourself." His voice soft and quiet.

He pushes the chair back to get up.

Throws away his trash, and just smiles and walks away.

And takes my heart with him.

Don't hurt yourself.

It rings in my ears. Over, and over again.

I'm trying, my mind screams back at him.

That's what I say every time I pick the blade up again.