Can You Feel My Heart?

See

Think.

•••
Four Days Before
Was there anything he could do? Jake felt as if he had failed himself once again. And...he hated himself for it. He was always letting himself down, minimizing his own potential. He ripped a single piece of paper from his journal, removing his very first poem.

I cannot see,
For I am blind.
I was yours,
And you were mine.

But now,
You see,
We're out of time.
So this will be my final rhyme.

He read it over and over, his breath catching as he cried. He was so weak. That's what he told himself. He couldn't stop his father, couldn't leave. Look at him! He was running away from school, too afraid of the stares of his schoolmates.

He was slowly pulling himself apart, starting with his insides. He was mentally exhausted. Jake couldn't handle his own thoughts, he didn't-couldn't-trust himself.

•••

That night, his father opened his door. He raised his hand, about to strike Jake. When his fist fell upon Jake's face, Jake stood, his breathing ragged and loud. He pushed his father away and ran towards the closet in the corner of his room. There, propped against the wall, was a bat.

Jake grabbed it and went back to his father, looking him in the face. They stared at each other. Soon there was movement--on Jake's father's side. He yelled, and kicked Jake in the stomach. Jake grit his teeth. Then, without thinking, he swung the bat at his father's head.

Jake watched his father fall to the ground. He was unconscious, and

Jake wasted no time.

He grabbed his journal, his pens, and a notebook. He wrote his father a note on the back of his first poem.

"Fuck you. Fuck your life. I hope you die. I wish you'd die. Life would be so much better without you. Just fucking die."

•••

He ran away from the place he called hell, to a place he wanted to call home.
Yours Truly,
Quiet Observer.