Gravity

prologue / the boy with the tired eyes

I don't remember much from that day, but I remember hearing him screaming. I hadn't expected it to be who I saw that night, the beaten and bloody boy laying on the floor outside his block. Prior to that night I had only seen this boy with the brightest smile and happiest eyes, so it was hard to see him laying there seemingly broken to pieces.

I was watching from the end of the hall that night, watching his father scolding him while hitting him with something I could only assume was a belt. Each time the boy screamed or yelped out in pain would result in another painful hit. He eventually stopped making noises at all, barely even flinching. It was only then that he looked up from the floor, meeting my gaze; the boy with the tired eyes.

The man who had caused all his pain turned around and calmly entered the door behind them as if nothing had happened, leaving his son a bruised mess on the floor.

I gathered all my courage and made my way over to him, kneeling down to his level. The boy's wide eyes scanned me, untrusting, full of fear. Upon closer inspection, I noticed multiple whip marks and bruises upon his beautiful skin. How had I not noticed them before?

I bit my lower lip in attempt to keep my tears from falling; I felt terrible for the boy. He flinched and held his eyes tightly shut once I'd offered my hand, causing me to quickly move my hand away.

"I'm not gonna hurt you," I promised him, gently resting my hand on his. "It's okay."

His shivering body slowed as he looked up at me again, his dark pupils reminding me of the midnight sky seen in my books.

After a short moment, he turned his hand around to weakly squeeze mine, letting me help him to his feet. Once we were both stood I was reminded that he was tall; much taller than I was, and very thin. The boy's hair a midnight purple, messy and tangled, rested on his pale, bruised skin.

Without a second thought I reached up, gently and carefully brushing the hair from his face, revealing his tear-stained cheeks. For the first time, he let out a slow, steady breath.

"That... feels... nice." he mumbled, averting his eyes from mine.

Just as I was about to pull away, I decided to continue stroking his hair. The boy's shaking stopped almost completely, his eyes shutting, leaning into my touch. Even the slightest of movements felt so good to him; had nobody been gentle with him before? I focused on my fingers, being as gentle as I could as I scratched his scalp and played with his beautiful hair.

Suddenly a low thump could be heard faintly, then approaching footsteps. The boy's eyes snapped open, his weak hands pushing me away.

I really didn't want to leave the boy alone, I wanted to continue to make him feel safe. I knew there was nothing I could do to save him from what was to come, so I listened to him. I made my way back up the hallway, giving him one last glance before I turned the corner. I chose to ignore the sounds of struggle and drunken slurs.