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 watched as she pressed a small cotton ball over my wounded wrists with an unreadable expression. It stung a little, but it didn't bother me as much as it was supposed to. I allowed her to carefully wrap the bandages over my scars, making sure it was tight but not too unbearable.
I tried my hardest to read her face to see how she was feeling about this current situation but unfortunately for me, I couldn't tell how she felt. I couldn't make out what emotion was swimming in her amber-brown beauties.
She let out a sigh, probably thinking about what happened to me. She was probably glad she found me because maybe I could've gotten in bigger trouble. Yes, I didn't want to go with her, but I had no choice.
She took me to where she lives which isn't quite far from my place. Once we entered the house with a few questions from her parents, but they chose to leave it alone and allowed her to tend to my wounds.
She instructed me to shower but I refused because I couldn't stand the feeling of the hot water touching my skin right now, especially with all my scars and bruises. Because I knew it wasn't going to clean the feeling of his hands on me.
Showering could never erase the way his fists would connect with my body or the way he'd force me down and slit my wrists. Not enough to kill me but enough to leave permanent scars.
After fixing me up and struggling a bit because I couldn't let her touch my scars, but I knew she had to clean these wounds before they got infected. We sat in silence with the television playing softly in the background while her parents were in the other room chatting, probably about me and what they were going to do about me.
Naomi fiddled with her fingers and stared out of the small window that revealed the beauty of New York under an endless night sky.
"Aren't you going to thank me?" She asked, causing me to widen my eyes a little and I could feel my face slightly heat up. I scoff and look at the TV, watching the Tomcat chasing the little brown mouse for a second before my eyes connect with hers again.
"I didn't ask for your help," I replied, using my nails to lightly scratch the palm of my hand. She stared at me and frowned; the feeling of anger filled her eyes. She turned her whole body to face me and folded her arms over her chest. I read her body language and narrowed my eyes a bit. I could tell she was pissed. This may be the first time I've seen her like this.
"Well, if that's the thanks I get then you can leave." I was taken aback by her tone and my lips parted a little in a bit of shock. I expected her to at least understand this and allow me to stay for a meal or some rest. I shook my head and looked down at my hands that rested on my lap. I glanced at the bandages and then at my palm, noticing it was becoming red due to me scratching it.
This was my way of apologizing. I don't speak, I just look down at my hands or the ground in guilt; almost like a dog would do. I can't apologize but I must in this situation. She did help me.
I slowly lift my head and look at her to notice her eyes softening at the sight of me. I stare at her with an apologetic look. She sighed and shifted her gaze to the TV.
"I didn't mean to be harsh," She paused and bit down on her lip, nibbling it a little before moving a little closer but keeping a comfortable distance from me. "I'm sorry." She whispers, awkwardly waiting for me to respond or at least waiting for me to react to this.
I sat still for a few seconds before looking at her hand that rested a few centimetres away from me. I hesitantly place my cold hand on her warm, soft one. She turned to look at me and her eyes studied mine, almost looking for something.
"I'm sorry too," I say, well, I whispered it because, in all honesty, I'm not quite used to talking to her like this. I mean I've talked to her a few times, but it was never like this. But I liked it. I like sitting this close to her and holding her hand. I like using my voice around her and I think she might like it too.
We stare at each other, taking in the emotions that come from our eyes. I quickly shift my stare to the small window behind her – the one she was staring out of a few minutes ago - my eyes widen a little at the stunning view that was painted right outside her apartment window. I had sprung to my feet and rushed over to the window and gawked at the extraordinary sight.
The way the lights shone from every tall building my eyes fell on; and the way the stars scattered the black void enhanced the beauty of the sight. I was in so much awe. This also felt different. When I look through my window it's out of sadness or frustration. But looking out her window I'm humbler and safer. I could feel the presence of my saviour behind me.
"Matteo." She said, as I slowly turned around and looked at her, a gentle smile on my face. I was slightly taller than her but we're only 12, so it didn't matter. I adored the way she called my name. It sounded better coming out of her mouth.
"Naomi," I mumbled, fawning over the way a smile bounced back on her face. We stayed like this for a few minutes. I wish we stayed like this a bit longer.
"Thank you," I mutter, catching a glimpse of a star in her eyes. A bright, happy star that glistened in her autumn eyes.
The night was silent yet comfortable for both of us. Her parents were happy to give me something to eat and a blanket along with a pillow for me to sleep on the couch. I knew I was going to be in so much trouble when I got home. But that didn't matter, right now I'm safe. Naomi was able to find a bigger shirt for me to wear and some sweatpants. I thanked her and her parents who grew to like me a little.
As the night went by, she went to bed and soon her parents left too. I was alone in the room, staring at the ceiling and I tossed and turned on the lumpy couch. I just couldn't sleep.
After what seemed like hours, I heard someone trying their best to not make any noise. I knew it was her. I lay still and listened to how she fiddled and messed around in the kitchen. It wasn't long though; I expected her to head back to her room, but I was wrong.
I could feel she was staring at me, probably debating on leaving me here or staying.
"What happened?" She asked. I move slightly and rest on my side, glaring at the black TV screen that shows my bruised reflection. It was just empty, almost like a void that could suck me in and trap me in another reality.
I don't bother answering your question because you wouldn't understand. You'd want me to go to the police or live with you, but I couldn't. If I did tell you, I'd be dead and so would you.
"Good night, Naomi," I whisper, before closing my eyes and pretending to fall asleep.
After that, you never asked me that question again.
