The bruises were the worst part, he decided, as he watched them bloom on his skin like flowers awakening for the first day of spring. He saw the way they danced on his flesh elegantly, as if he were the stage for an old-fashioned ball. Their colors reflected the subtle shades of a sun done setting, leaving the sky a deep, dark, inky purple that goes on for ever and ever, until you get lost in its darkness.
Yes, bruises were far worse than cuts. They draw just enough attention to be noticed, and noticing led to questions, which led to lies. He hated lies, despite how easily they bubbled up to his lips. They came so naturally that even he couldn't decipher between himself and his lies any more.
He watched as they first noticed a bruise, as their eyebrows furrowed and they opened their mouth to ask the question. He hated that question. He watched their eyes shift from their simple content to the shady concern that was only a mask made for him and no one else.
He gives them the usual excuse, and their eyes clear. He can see that they've already forgotten. Well he hasn't, and he never will be allowed to until the day he dies.
Eyes aren't windows. They never were. Eyes are doors, locked from the inside, their contents only visible when opened. But his eyes were five inch steel doors with padlocks on the outside. He was trapped inside of his mind, a prisoner until somebody set him free.
There was her, too. She had been the first in a long, long time to look at him and actually see how thick his doors were. She tried, but all that she did was add another inch. Despite that, the never gave up. She really saw his bruises and his fake, fake, fake smiles. She saw him and she understood because she too, was filled to the brim with cookie-cutter smiles, endless days, and even longer nights.
She had gotten him to smile, truly smile. He had forgotten what that felt like, and he could still feel the echo of happiness on his lips for the rest of the day, and he thought that maybe, his doors weren't quite as thick as they used to be.
Yes, he thought. Bruises were definitely the worst part. And then he drifted away, becoming the nothingness he had dreamed of his entire life. The silence in his mind was blissful, and that's when he knew that he was finally free. Really, truly, completely free.
