The Little Things That Matter

It's Been Too Long

//just a little something I wrote a two in the morning when I couldn't sleep.//

The rain hit the window harder than it seemed, the glass only letting a small patter be heard. It was raining again, that meant no going outside. It's not like outside was very fun, at least not for this particular 16 year old boy.

Thomas Miller was an average highschooler. He had two parents, a brother and sister, friends, people who loved him. He went to school, did his homework, didn't study, day dreamed most of class, and conversed with friends. His life was like everyone else's, or, that's what he told himself.

Thomas never felt like everyone else, he was more quiet, more.. sad. It wasn't anything that raised flags, just little things. Things no one noticed.

The way he looked at something longer than he should've, or how his eyes never seemed to focus. His mouth was always closed, his teeth chewing on the inside of his cheek. His thoughts, something far dangerous than the others.

But no one noticed.

They didn't notice the way he stopped talking, the way he held himself differently. They didn't notice the dark circles under his eyes, or the scars on his wrist. They didn't notice the way his clothes were just a little too big for him, or how he never got anything for lunch.

It was the little things. The things people don't usually notice.

They didn't question when he started wearing long sleeves or jackets. Even when it was hot out. They didn't stop to think about the way he let his hair cover his eyes, as of he hadn't noticed. They overlooked the way he looked at others, as if they were the enemy.

They forgot how close they were with him, how they used to tell each other everything. They forgot how much they trusted him. They forgot how his laugh sounded, how his smile looked. They forgot the sparkle in his eyes whenever he got excited.

Thomas was a normal kid. Except he wasn't.
He should be happy. But he wasn't.
He was normal. Yet he was strange.

No one stopped to think twice.

So there Thomas sat. Staring outside the window, seeing the grass get wet and the trees blow in the wind. How the sun was hidden behind the rainy clouds, how the cars drove slower than usual. Few people were outside walking, those that were had umbrellas.

His dull, grey eyes flicked to the closed door. His head slowly turning to look as well, as the wooden door slowly began to open. The creaking was deafening to the boys ears, the light an add to the dim lamp.

Thomas watched as an older lady walked in, long blonde hair with bright blue eyes. Her usual work clothes on, a brown sweater vest over a white blouse. A brown pencil skirt, with black leggings. Along with nice, shiny black shoes. She looked like a shrink, one from those shows. It would've made Thomas laugh, the old Thomas maybe.

He looked away from her as she began to speak, he didn't usually talk to the people here. He didn't trust them, they only saw what they wanted to see. That he was sick, and needed help. He wasn't sick. He knew what he needed and it wasn't them. He didn't hear what she said, and focused on outside the window. He did hear her sigh, and took a glance at her out of the corner of his eyes.

He pulled his eyes away from the window to look at himself, he hasn't been able to look anywhere else than the window. Knowing full well what he was going to see and knowing he wasn't going to like it.

Thomas looked at his hands, turning them palm up to look at them. Small, clean, soft. That's how people described them. How they used to be. They were still small, and soft. No longer clean. He rubbed his thumb from his right hand, on his left hand. Trying to rub off something that wasn't there.

He didn't really remember what happened, just lights, bright lights. And noises, loud noises. Like sirens. Then, next thing he knew. He woke up there. There. There..

This place.. it's.. familiar? Has he been there before? No, not that he can remember. Where was he? Did someone tell him? A hand went up to his temple to rub it, annoyance hitting him hard. He left out a sigh, to let the women know his displeasure.

"Thomas? Don't you remember what happened?" The lady asked. As if she expected him to know. Of course he didn't know. Why would he? As if knowing his thoughts, she slowly made her way to his bed. His bed? He was sitting on a bed? Thomas shook his head. Why didn't he remember? Did he remember a couple minutes ago?

"You had an accident. They brought you here. Don't you remember?" She asked. An accident? Oh.
Oh.
He remembers.

//Should I continue? Let me know.//