A Little Story About Love

Part 1

Max

I stood in front of the door, key in hand. Beside me lay my cello, and as much of my old life as I could fit into two suitcases. I slid the key into the lock, and the door clicked open. I lugged my things through the door and looked around at my new room. The door opened into a large room with two beds sitting against opposite walls. A smaller room to the right held a lonely couch. A door next to that room led to a tiled bathroom. On the opposite wall, a door opened into a small, empty room, an office maybe. I wasn't supposed to have a roommate, so I lay, staring at the rough ceiling for a while.

I must have dozed off, because the next thing I knew, someone was pounding on my door. I groaned and stood up, stumbling my way to the door. I opened the door and was enveloped in a strawberry scented bear hug.

Elle let go of me and grinned, "guess who's your roommate?!" she squealed.

I stared at her for a moment, and then engulfed her in a bone-crushing hug. "Come in," I said, forcing a smile.

"Oh don't give me that bullshit Max, I know when you're faking it," Elle said as she slid past me.

"Sorry." I picked up her bags and carried them inside where I found Elle already opening doors.

"Wow! This place is huge!" she grinned.

I grunted in response and sat back down on my bed. Elle looked at me sadly, but didn't say anything. There wasn't much she could say. Although I was thrilled that Elle was here, it was hard to be very enthusiastic after the events of the last few days. But Elle understood, we had been best mates for as long as I could remember. We had been by each other through every adventure and every bump in the road.

Elle ran a hand through her blonde and pink hair and sat next to me on my bed. She wrapped her arms around me and I melted into her embrace. She held me like that for a long time. All that I needed in that moment was the feeling of someones arms around me, protecting me, supporting me, loving me.

**********

One week ago.

The sharp blow sent shocking waves of pain through my body. I should have expected it, but it still managed to surprise me. Jake, my stepdad stood over me angrily. He swung at my head again but I managed to duck the blow in time. My mother sat at the table, slumped over, sobbing into her hands. My two brothers, Colin and Tyler stared dumbfounded at Jake and I. My family had never seen Jake hit me. It was a regular occurrence, but no one knew. I said the bruises came from falls, or bullies at school. Nobody questioned me.

Jake's insults dimmed to a dull background noise, only the occasional word made it through, making it more than clear that I was no longer excepted into this family. My eldest brother, Colin, began to argue with our stepdad, fighting for me. But he was soon silenced by my mother.

I felt emotionless, empty. I don't know what I really expected, but I never could have imagined this. Jake hit me a few more times, yelling profanities and insults. I blocked him out, not wanting to hear his words. This continued for at least and hour, and then my parents grew quiet.

I looked up at my family, my mother's expression had hardened, my stepdad had a wicked smile on his face. He had never liked me, and now he had every excuse to hate me outright.

"You're leaving." My mother said coldly, "we will not harbor such an abomination under our roof. You're going to boarding school."

Jake smirked down at me, "Do your research and pack your bags, you leave next week."

I felt nothing. No emotion passed through my mind. I was numb.

**********

My parents let me choose what school I wanted to go to, and so in no time I was shipped off to one of the finest art schools in Australia. The next week went by in a haze. I was like a zombie, just going through the motions, settling into a new school. Nothing was going well, Elle did her best to cheer me up, but nothing made much difference. At one point I found a door open on the same floor as my room which led to the roof of our school. I took to sitting alone on the roof most nights, to get away from everything hanging over my head. Sometimes I would drag my cello to the roof, and pour myself into my music. Sometimes I would dance, dance for hours until my feet bled. It set me free, providing an escape from my dark thoughts and emotions.