guarded (boyxboy)

two: brown eyes and comfort

A year and a half. A year and a half it took for me to finally accept myself. A year and a half filled with locking myself in my room all day, rebounding with violence and vandalism at night. Many nights were spent in a holding cell before my foster parents had to come bail me out once again. A year and a half of bringing trouble and frustration, let alone pain, to everyone around me. My foster parents and siblings eventually gave up on me because they didn't know how to help. And I don't blame them. A year and a half after that day was when I realized that what I was doing to them was wrong. That she wouldn't want me to be like this. That I'm better than this.

A year and a half, and I was being moved once again.

~~~~

Kody

"You have to talk to me, Kody. That's why I'm here. That's why we're both here."

I sighed once again, my fists clenching. "We don't have to be here. I can leave. In fact, I'd prefer to leave." I said, not opening my eyes to look at her. I rested my hands on my stomach, feet crossed and head resting on a pillow. I hated this. I hated it so much. I felt vulnerable and everything about being here made me feel like there was something wrong with me.

And I'm not so sure that there isn't.

I heard her sigh. "Stop being so stubborn." she said, and I opened my eyes to look at her. "I'm only here to help, and by talking about it, you can get some of the burden off your chest. You'll feel better." I mentally groaned. Talking about that day would do anything but help. I knew it, but Delia didn't understand. She would never understand and I wasn't about to help her. 

I was fed up with this. "What do you want me to say?" I said, sitting up. "What do you want to hear that you don't already know? Because the last time I checked, you know the full story. You were told the full story. I wasn't told," I paused, my heart rapidly beating. "I lived through it. I was there, I saw everything, heard everything, and felt everything. I was a part of that story you were told, and I don't want to go back!"

Delia was looking back at me with a blank expression, clipboard sitting in front of her on the coffee table. A deafening silence filled the room. She stared at me, but her mouth stayed closed. I scoffed and leaned back on the couch, crossing my arms and perching my feet up on the table. She told me that I would feel better about talking about it, but I didn't feel better at all. I felt worse.

"Kody!" I heard a voice, and I jumped up from my seat on the swing.

"Samantha!" I called back, watching as she ran closer to me. I closed the shrinking distance between the two and pulled her into a tight hug. I pulled back, my excitement dropping into desperate horror as I took in her appearance. 

Bruises of all colors decorated her face and arms and her cheeks were stained with tears. Her normally bright blue eyes were now a dulled stormy gray pool of pain. "Kody.." She whispered, bottom lip trembling, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." She wrapped her arms around me and dug her face into my chest, and my heart twisted at the sight of her so broken.

I rested my chin on the top of her head and rocked us, gently sitting us on the ground. "Shh, it's alright, Samantha. You're okay. I'm here." She continued to tremble in my arms, but her whimpers quieted down at the sound of my voice. I gently pulled back to look at her. "What happened, Sammy? Was it your dad again?" She nodded, tears trickling down her cheeks, and I felt my own pricking at the corner of my eyes.

"H-he.. um.." She paused, gathering a fistful of my shirt. "He had a f-few drinks..." That was all I needed to hear before she was in my arms again, sobbing.