The boy.
Everyone saw him the same way. He didn't care for anyone else, to everyone, he was the guy you shouldn't mess with. With the disgusted look on his face, you assumed he didn't like anyone, and he didn't.
He would call people names and cuss them out. He made sure no one made fun of him. He was tough, he stayed strong and the reason behind it, no one ever knew. Behind those dark eyes of his, lay multiple secrets that so many wanted to find out, but never could.
He had put up four walls inside his mind, blocking anyone from ever coming in and figuring who he truly was. He spent his days smoking the worries away, he took anything of everything to make himself feel better and for a moment, it did. He would even smile in his state. After the effects wore off, he was back to pushing everyone away from him.
He liked making people feel bad because it took his mind off how bad he was actually feeling.
No one knew the secrets he held. He tried so hard to forget himself, but every time he fell asleep, he would have the same nightmare that he's been having ever since he was only nine years old. You see, life as a kid for him wasn't all rainbows and cookies. In fact, it was far from it.
That night, so many years ago, he was sleeping up in his room and his mother had foolishly fallen asleep on the couch. His father stumbled in the house later on, drunk. He grabbed his sleeping wife by the collar and dragged her in the kitchen and went at it, hitting her. The little nine year old boy raced down the stairs in hopes to help her but he couldn't. He had to watch. Too small to reach the phone, he couldn't call the police. He was useless.
Ever since that night, he's dreamed of it, over and over again. He wakes up screaming every night, sweating and panting. He's angry, he breaks things, he's broken.
He's seventeen now, no father, and a mother trying to take care of him. He made a promise to himself, which was to never be as weak and useless as he was at that very moment, at nine years old.
He's made walls to protect himself from anyone ever getting in, and seeing how weak and vulnerable he is. He never cried, because crying meant he was weak and he refused to look weak. At first, he would act like he didn't care for anyone but himself. He pushed his friends away, drove them to think he was a total dick, and didn't care about them.
After years, he started to actually not care. He only had "friends" to deal drugs with and smoke with. He didn't care for them other than that. He has successfully pushed everyone away from him except his mother. He tries to push her away at times but no matter what, she was there. The boy with the dark eyes, will never give in. He's too broken, torn apart, and gone.
The girl.
Not everyone saw her the same way. To some, she was the quiet, shy girl who hardly ever said a word, and when she did, they all looked at her, surprised. To others, she was the loud, crazy girl. She looked innocent and harmless, yet she wasn't.
She cared for her friends, she would do anything to protect them from others who threatened to hurt them. She liked to laugh and make her friends smile. She took things to heart, she got offended too easily. If you were to call her names, she'd smile and call you something worse, but inside she frowned and agreed.
She was angry, upset and sad. She wanted to act tough and she wanted to be strong, and the reason behind it, she never knew. She sat down, drinking hot cups of tea and watched as life rolled by her. She spent her days worrying and carrying a big weight on her shoulders, but she wouldn't tell anyone. Instead, she put a smile on her lips and worried about others.
She liked making others feel bad, because if she did that, she wouldn't be the only one suffering inside. She was angry, and to take her anger out, she hit her brother who never hit her back, she punched walls til her knuckles hurt.
No one knew how she truly felt, and she didn't plan on whining and complaining on how she hated her life, because it wasn't something she should talk about. It was her very own and personal secret.
She wanted to be strong and tough but she was a bit over emotional and that didn't help her. She hated crying, because to her, crying meant she was weak and she hated looking weak. She tried to never let her guard down, and she tried to hide her emotions from anyone, even the one she cares most about.
She never felt the pain and sadness of loosing someone, until later on, at sixteen. She had an aunt. An aunt who loved her so dearly, she never frowned, she always lit up the room with her bright smile. But she was gone now.
The girl watched as her family cried at the funeral. They sat in the front row as the priest talked. She bit her tongue to keep herself from crying, she clenched her jaw and fixed her eyes on the wooden cross at the very front of the room.
She didn't even know she was crying until her mother wiped her wet cheeks. She wiped her face, furiously and bit down on her lip. The girl had yet to learn that crying didn't mean you were weak.
It meant that you were strong enough to let it go. You're strong enough to show that you actually care. She had to learn that it's okay to not be okay sometimes. That crying isn't a sign of weakness.
There was a big weight on her shoulders and she prayed that one day someone would lift it off her shoulders before it was too late. Before she got squished by it. But she was strong. She was tough and she held it, and carried it everywhere she went.
Some days were harder than others, and other days, she managed to carry it just fine. But those days were becoming more and more rare.
She needed someone to save her, yet no one ever knew she needed saving in the first place because of the smile she had put. No one knew that they needed to look beyond the smile, and see the broken and scared girl, who wanted nothing but to be actually happy.
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Hey guys! (: This is a new story i'm working on, I doubt anyone will read, but if you do, please don't judge it too hard :(
