Shattered

Chapter 2

November 14th, 2003

I climb on the stool to reach the cabinet, but I forgot to open it beforehand. I try to balance the stack of plates with one hand and a knee, while I open the door, but the stool wobbles and I fall, taking the plates with me. The plates shatter, glass around my body. Miraculously, I'm unharmed. My father comes into the kitchen. "What did you do?" he roars. He sets his bottle down on the counter. "Those are our good plates!"

"I'm sorry daddy. I didn't mean to."

"I told you to be careful! You disobeyed me! You've left me no choice. I have to punish you so you can learn a lesson." He pulls his cigarette out of his mouth. "Come here."

"Daddy, there's too much glass."

"I TOLD YOU TO COME HERE!" he bellows.

I warily take gentle steps forward, but a small shard of china catches on the underside of my foot and digs in deep. I let out a high pitched scream, the kind of sound only a 6 year old girl can make. Tears stream down my face. "Daddy! It's in my foot!"

"Keep coming!"

I whimper, but don't say anything more, knowing it's no use to argue. I take another step, pushing the glass even farther into my heel. Finally, I collapse in front of my father, crying.

"Give me your arm."

"Why?"

"Give me your arm!" he says louder this time, voice booming. I give in and hold out my arm to him, unsure of what is about to take place. He rolls up my sleeve and holds his cigarette above my skin, the end glowing orange. My eyes widen.

"No daddy, please!" Whether or not he heard me makes no difference. He pushes the cigarette into my skin. I scream. He holds it there for a few seconds, and when he removes the burning paper, my skin underneath is blistering red. He repeats this for a total of ten times, five on each arm, relighting it whenever necessary.

"There. Maybe now you'll think twice before disobeying me."

I stare at my arms, the perfectly spaced pattern of dots. I look at my foot. Only the one piece was able to cut me, and it did so at an angle, so I am able to grip the edge of the china. I bite my lip and pull it out, the pain excruciating.

The next morning, my foot has healed quite well. I'm glad I had the foresight to pull out the glass. The burns are another story however. Most of them have blistered and turned a sickly brownish yellow color. My mother dresses me in a pink long-sleeved shirt. I wince and grit my teeth as the rough fabric goes over the burns, popping several blisters. Pus oozes, some running down my arms, some soaking through the thin fabric. She winces. "Sorry darling," she tells me in an empathetic voice. She yanks a too-small coat onto me and shos me out to bus, warning me to not say anything about my burns.

I am able to make it through most of Monday without saying anything about the horrible pain of my injuries, until recess. The rest of the kids are playing freeze tag, so of course I join in. The boy who's the tagger darts around, freezing a few of my classmates. I see a "frozen" girl near me and I attempt to save her. I am just about to touch her with my outstretched arm, when the tagger whips out from around a corner and very forcefully tags my arm. I scream in anguish, the sound blending in with the happy shouts of kindergarteners. I roll up my sleeve to see that my bottom-most burn has completely ruptured, leaking sticky, clear liquid. The children gather around me, trying to learn what happened. One girl "figures it out" and runs away, squealing, "Boo-boo girl!"

All the other kids' eyes widen. They run, screaming. Only one boy I've never seen before is left staring. He watches me sitting in the grass, crying and shaking. He slowly approaches me and kisses his finger, and with the most gentle hand, touches my wound. I wince, but no additional pain is felt. "All better," he whispers so lightly I almost think I imagined the words. He sits down on the cold ground with me, and for the rest of recess, says nothing.

The bell rings and my head snaps towards the building. I quickly pull my sleeve back down. I turn back towards the boy, but he's gone. I look all around, but he's nowhere to be found. I get up and go back into school, expecting him to be in class, but he isn't.

Tuesday's classes come, and the boy doesn't make an appearance. I sit, waiting for the bell to ring to let us go to lunch. My eyes stray away from the teacher and towards the door. It is open a crack, and in the shadow of the frame there the boy is! He waves, then slips away, vanishing.

The bell rings and I go to lunch, and, with no luck, I look in every corner to see if I can find him. I sit down with my usual group of friends -no one- and begin to eat. About halfway through my meal, I look up to see the boy sitting across from me. I jump back, startled. "Oh! Goodness. I didn't see you sitting there!"

He just stares at me, mute.

"What's your name? I'm Demetria, but everyone calls me Demi."

"Arsyn," he barely whispers. He stands and begins to leave.

"Where are you going?" I ask.

He shruggs his shoulders. "I can't be around you much just yet. Maybe I'll be back tomorrow." And just like that he's gone. Blending into the crowd and disappearing.

The next day, Arsyn is in class. I'm ecstatic. No one seems to notice him, but then again, he never says much. "Can you be around me now?" I ask.

"Yes."

...

Two weeks later, we're completely inseparable. We always eat lunch alone, together. We hang out after school everyday, going on adventures in the woods near my street, or watching the sun produce stunning colors as it sets over the lake.

As we sit, staring out into the infinite water, I present him with a gift. In art class, I made a set of best friend necklaces in our favorite colors. Orange for him, light blue for me. He looks at it for a second, and immediately lights up. "Thank you Demetria," he says, loudest I've ever heard him. He puts it on and smiles. "I'll never take it off," he pinky swears with me. "I'll wear it forever."