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Oɱɳιʂƈιҽɳƚ 2007 Qυҽҽɳʂ, Nҽɯ Yσɾƙ
Eight-year-old Xaier sat on the couch, his small frame curled into a corner with his knees drawn to his chest. The television was on, playing his favorite cartoon, but his eyes didn't follow the screen. His gaze was distant, his hands gripping the hem of his shirt tightly. He hadn't eaten all day, hadn't laughed, and hadn't played. His usual vibrant energy was gone, replaced by a heavy silence that hung in the room like a dark cloud.
Gloria watched him from the kitchen, her heart breaking a little more each time she glanced at him.
For the past few days, after Xaier had been dropped off at her house, he was unusually quiet, an eerie stillness overtaking the boy who would normally be filling the house with chatter and mischief.
She had asked him countless times what was wrong, but he always gave the same answer: "Nothing." Yet his slumped shoulders, the bruises on his body, and the way he avoided her gaze every single time she asked him, told her the truth.
She wasn't blind to what Rylo had done to him. She knew the kind of man her sister's baby father was and the horrors he inflicted on Xaier, trying to mold him into something he was never meant to be. She'd heard the muffled cries coming from his room at night, and saw. the way he tossed and turned as nightmares plagued him.
That evening, Gloria decided it was time to do something. She couldn't undo what had happened, what ever it may have been, but she could at least try to lighten the weight on Xaier's young shoulders.
"X honey," she called gently, walking over to the couch. He didn't look up, only shrugged slightly. Gloria knelt in front of him, her hazel eyes searching his face. "Come with me, baby. I want to show you something."
He hesitated at first, but when she offered her hand, he slowly placed his small one in hers. She carefully led him outside to the porch where a table was set up with a clean drawing pad, paint, and brushes. The warm evening air wrapped around them as the setting sun cast a golden glow over the yard.
Xaier looked at the setup, his brows furrowing. "What is this?" he asked softly.
"It's for you," Gloria said with a small smile, pulling out a chair for him. "You like to look at art right? I thought maybe you could paint something. Anything you want."
He looked at her skeptically, unsure. "I... I don't know how to paint." he frowned while taking a seat.
"You don't have to know how Xaier," Gloria encouraged, sitting beside him. "Just put whatever you're feeling onto the paper. When it's hard to say what's on your mind, sometimes it's easier to draw it. Just give it a try at least."
Xaier hesitated some, but eventually picked up a brush. He dipped it into the paint and began moving it across the page with slow and uncertain strokes. Gloria watched him quietly, her heart swelling as she saw a faint trace of emotion returning to his face as he drew. And his lines were extremely smooth, she couldn't make out exactly what he was painting, but she could already see the potential.
