The room is dead silent when he stops talking. One side of his face is encased in the moonlight that floods in. The hollows of his cheeks are completely on display, as well as his heavy eyelashes that cast their own shadows.
He leans into me speedi...
more than tears, more than heartache, more than all of this."
-Tyler Knott Gregson
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She lay under the bed for so long she couldn't even imagine how long she'd been there. Her legs and back went numb long ego, and she ceased her tears only seconds ago.
A silver sheet of steel was pulled over the windows and forces every strand of light out of the room. Good, she thought, No moon, no stars, good, I don't wish to see them and they don't wish to see me.
When Alex was seven a group of white boys had called her a racial slur - one that hurt even if it was for the incorrect ethnic group. All day she had reddened, puffy eyes and imprints on her palm from her own nails. Eventually she begged her teacher to go home.
The school called her mother who in her typical style raised her own silent version of hell.
"You let these kids call her that?" She always had a quiet voice, and now was no exception. "Did you watch? Did you wait it out, until it finished? Kids will be kids, oh is that it?"
"No, no of- of course we didn't-"
"So my daughter and her friends are liars?"
"That's is not what we said-"
"It's not?"
"We are very sorry that interventi-"
"No, no I wasn't the one who was called a spic while a supervisor - a teacher nonetheless - watched. Why don't you apologize to her?"
This went on for only a bit before the teacher in question and the boys apologized to Alex under her mother's scrutinizing eye. Her nails curled over the handle of her bag when they got too close.
Her mother was at her side, uncurling her fists and smoothing her hands out. This action only brought on more tears, especially when she hugged her mother.
"Alex, Alex, Alex" a finger under her chin brought their eyes to meet and Alex fought the urge to cry again, only sniffling. "People who say things like this - thats their fault, that's their sin - pecado, Alex, pecado. You don't listen to people like this. It's pecado to listen."
Alex repeated the word after her mother. Pecado. Their sin. None of this was her fault, and with her mother repeating this to her, her heart ache lessened.
"Everything they said to you, everything they think about you - that's their business. What you are concerned about is what you think about yourself. Okay Alex? Because you're more than that. You matter. Don't let what they said hurt you in any way. Okay Alex?" She smoothed the back of her hands over the tears running down her daughter's cheek. "I love you, I love you."
