I never thought he would really leave, but I was curious as to why he finally got the guts to tell me off. He was always quiet and took his beatings like a man. I soon found out when he quit coming to school. Well I really found out when I seen the next mornings newspaper. His father was a convicted murderer, and his mother had been his victim.
Not only had he been subjected to my abuse, but his parents as well. The newspaper didn't have a single nice thing to say about either of his parents. It hurt to see his picture in the newspaper beside a strange man. It said his Uncle was taking him under his roof. His eyes were sad and he was smeared in blood and covered in bruises.
He looked like he was on the verge of suicide. If I ever got the chance to see him again, I would fall to my knees and beg for his forgiveness. And it turns out he was right. I didn't know what love was until I loved and then I fucked up.
Come to think of it, I never knew what his smile looked like, and he always looked so scared. I couldn't tell you if he was frightened because of me or his parents, but either way, he was broken. He was glass, and I shattered it.
Over the years the other kids grew, but I didn't. I was once tall for my age, I was strong for my age. Now I'm the opposite. I'm lanky and short. Now I'm the subject of bullying. But I don't complain, he didn't.
I wonder where he is. Wyatt could be anywhere, and I wouldn't know. I haven't the right to ask. Tomorrow begins another agonizing year. I'll be bullied for my dyed red hair, my black nail polish, my eyeliner, my skinny frame, and my pale skin.
They'll tease me about my green eyes too. Again they'll say I look like a fucked up Christmas tree. I don't even like Christmas. I've never had fond memories of it anyway. I readied myself for bed. Right when I was about to fall asleep I heard my father bust an empty bottle against the wall and a cry from my mother. I was in the living room in minutes.
He beat me relentlessly as my mother begged for him to stop. He only stopped when I couldn't stand. He mumbled something about having a worthless family and left again. "Honey! Are you okay? Let mommy patch you up, come on," I followed her to the bathroom, struggling to even move.
YOU ARE READING
Broken Objects
Romance"One day you'll realize just how much I loved you, and then you'll regret treating me the way you did," my voice was trembling with rage, sadness, and fear. "You'll never know what real love is until you learn to love and then you fuck it up," My sm...
