SOUL

he comforts her after she is hurt

October 15th, 2014

Leo sat slumped at his desk, staring blankly at the open textbook in front of him, but his mind wasn't on the words. It wasn't even in the room. His thoughts were still back on the football field, playing out the game over and over in his head—the game they'd lost because of him.

He could still feel the sting of the football slipping out of his hands, the sound of the fumble echoing in his ears. The ball had bounced wildly, and the other team had pounced on it like wolves. He'd watched helplessly as the opposing team recovered, running the clock down, and there wasn't enough time to fix it. His mistake. His loss.

The weight of it was suffocating. His teammates hadn't blamed him, not outwardly anyway, but Leo could see it in their faces, the disappointment. He could feel it, gnawing at him like a deep ache that wouldn't go away.

He leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair, letting out a frustrated sigh. His mind wouldn't stop replaying the moment—the split-second where everything had gone wrong. He was supposed to be better than that. He was better than that. But it didn't matter now. The game was over, and they'd lost.

Leo rubbed his temples, trying to shake the thought from his mind. He needed a distraction, something to take his mind off the game. But then a sound drifted in through his open window, cutting through the stillness of the night.

Screaming.

It wasn't loud, not at first, but it was unmistakable. A woman's scream, muffled and strained, followed by the crashing of something breaking.

His heart immediately dropped into his stomach.

Leo stood up, his legs moving before his mind could catch up, and he rushed to the window. The sound was coming from next door. Mary's house.

His chest tightened as he peered out the window, and sure enough, there was Mary, sitting in the tree that separated their houses. Her legs dangled from a branch, her body hunched over, like she was trying to disappear into the leaves. Even from a distance, he could see the tension in her posture, the way her head was slightly bowed, her shoulders stiff.

He knew exactly what was happening inside that house. He'd heard it before, seen the aftermath on Mary's face too many times to count.

Without thinking, he opened his window wider and leaned out, calling to her softly. "Mary?"

She jumped, startled, her head whipping around to face him, her wide eyes filled with panic for a moment before she realized it was just him. Her hand flew to her chest, and she let out a shaky breath, trying to calm herself.

"You scared me," she whispered, her voice trembling.

Leo held up his hands in apology. "Sorry. I didn't mean to."

The night air was cool, but the weight of the moment made it feel suffocating. Leo could see the faint gleam of tears on Mary's cheeks, the way her lips were pressed tightly together as if she were trying to hold herself together. The sounds from her house had quieted for the moment, but the tension still hung heavy in the air, like it was waiting to erupt again.

"Are you okay?" Leo asked gently, his voice softer now, his eyes scanning her face.

Mary blinked rapidly, her fingers clutching the tree bark, and nodded quickly. "Yeah," she said, though the waver in her voice betrayed the lie. "I'm fine."

Leo wasn't convinced, but he didn't push her. Instead, he hesitated for a moment, then pushed himself up onto the windowsill. "Can I sit with you?"

She didn't answer right away, just looked at him with tired, tear-filled eyes, then nodded slowly.

Leo climbed out of his window and made his way to the tree, moving carefully along the familiar branches until he was sitting next to her. He didn't say anything for a moment, just sat there, listening to the faint breeze rustling through the leaves, the far-off hum of the town in the background. He could feel the weight of everything pressing down on her, the unspoken heaviness that she carried with her every day.

He watched her for a moment, saw the way her eyes darted back toward the house like she was bracing for whatever was going to happen next. The house loomed in the background, dark and foreboding, a place filled with more pain than she deserved.

"Is there anything I can do?" Leo asked, knowing how helpless the question sounded but not sure what else to say.

Mary shook her head, her voice barely audible. "No. There's nothing anyone can do."

The words were so quiet, so resigned, that they twisted something deep inside him. She had said them like she'd accepted that her world was always going to be like this—that there was no escaping it. The thought made his heart ache, made him want to tear down the walls of her house and pull her out of that nightmare.

But he couldn't. Not tonight. All he could do was sit with her.

"Can we just sit here?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Leo nodded.

And so they did.

They sat together in the tree, the soft sounds of the night surrounding them, and for a little while, the chaos inside her house faded into the background. Leo didn't speak, didn't try to fill the silence with empty words. He just sat there, close enough to remind her that she wasn't alone.

Mary leaned her head back against the trunk of the tree, her eyes fluttering shut, and for the first time that night, Leo saw her take a deep breath. The tension in her shoulders eased, just a little, and for a brief moment, it felt like the world had stopped spinning so violently.

Leo glanced over at her, watching her in the pale moonlight, and his heart clenched. He wished he could do more. He wished he could take her away from everything that hurt her. But right now, all he could give her was this—this moment of quiet, this moment of stillness in a world that never gave her enough of it.

"Thanks," she whispered after a while, her voice soft, almost lost in the breeze.

He looked at her, his chest tight with emotion, and nodded. "Anytime"

And he meant it.