The sight of you brings a flood of foreign emotions I could not quite name. I look at you and my stare instantly softens as soon as they meet your enchanting amber brown eyes. My heart flutters at the melody of your laughter; my face feels warm at t...
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I'm seated between my father and mother as we eat in comfortable silence because they can't afford to talk to each other without arguing and tearing themselves apart. I glare at the salted broccoli that's left on my plate. I hold my fork and poke the green vegetable a few times before placing the fork down and groaning slightly in disgust.
"Eat your broccoli, Matteo." My mother demanded. Her gentle, summer voice was something everyone wanted to hear. I look at her and then at my father, noticing the difference between to two people. My mother ate delicately, almost savouring every bite while my father ate as quick as he could to get back to his office and leave my mom laying in her bed cold again.
I don't bother to pick up my fork again, instead, I push my plate a bit and rest my elbow on the table, waiting for my parents to finish eating because I didn't like leaving the two alone with all these dangerous objects on the table. I let out a sigh and thought about the week I just lived. My thoughts then went straight to her. It's strange how she was the first person I've spoken to outside of the house.
Naomi is such a gentle soul, With her round cheeks, and a bit of belly fat, you'd think she wouldn't be the most popular kid in school, but she is. My eyes soften slightly at the thought of her. She's the only person that made me not want to run away from this life.
"Your therapist called. She said she'd love to see you next month to see how things are going." My mother informed before taking a sip from her glass of wine. She looked at me with welcoming eyes and gave me a small smile before pushing my plate back in front of me. She gives me a knowing look. I rolled my eyes and pushed my plate away, glaring at her and she just sighed. She gave up. She always gives up when things don't go her way.
The table was quiet once again and that's when I stood up to go back to the room seeing that these two old souls didn't have the energy to fight tonight. "Sit down." My father ordered, not giving me a single glance. I stare at him and slowly sit myself down.
He took a bite of his steak and looked at me with hard eyes before speaking, moving the piece of steak he was chewing to his cheek, "You're not going back to that hag, okay?" He refers to my therapist as a hag. "You don't need her, you just need to open your mouth and speak," He paused for a moment to swallow his meat.
I wish he choked on that piece, so I could watch him struggle and beg me to help him. "Why can't you be like the rest of the kids, normal-" A loud bang caused both my father and I to flinch.
We turn to look at my mother whose hands are flat on the table, and she is giving my father the nastiest look I've ever seen. Her eyes burned with hate as she stared at him. She gave him a tight-lipped smile and tilted her head slightly, almost as if she was referring to me... because she was.
"Can we not talk about his issue right now, Emilio." For me not talking or communicating with my parents or socialising is an issue. She thinks that young children like me start to gain friends and popularity through talking and expressing themselves, but I don't.
