Writing Contests

Hidden Pain

Sorry to disappoint you cause no this isn't the winners.

1.22 K READS OMG IM FREAKING OUT NEVER THOUGHT THIS WAS POSSIBLE THANK YOU SO SO MUCH!!!!!!! So, in honor of that I though that if I can It would be cool if I myself could write and entry for my prompts. Please please please do tell me if y'all like it cause I don't write in 3rd person, but I decided to try it out so please tell me what you think. Obviously it won't be counted, but this is my contest "entry" for Hidden Pain.

Zeke was woken violently with a knife embedded in his pillow. He sighed and sat up in bed, cursing at himself for sleeping in again.

"I won't miss next time." An awfully familiar voice barked from just outside his room.

Zeke change out of his pajamas, hoping as he did everyday that this day would be different. It was useless wish, but it was all that kept him going.

"I hope I won't be going to work hungry!" His father hollered again.

Zeke gritted his teeth and ran into the kitchen. "Sorry." Was all he said before tossing two eggs into the frypan.

He poured the omlette into the plate and handed it to his father. His father said nothing. No gesture of thanks, he didn't even glance at his son.

Zeke was used to the silent treatment and went back into the kitchen, making his own meal as slow as possible.

Zeke stepped out of the kitchen and set his own breakfast on the table in time to hear his father getting the keys.

"Keep your stuff out of the way before I throw them out."

Zeke turned in time to see a flash of brown flying towards him. Before he could react the basketball hit him in the side of his face. Zeke caught his breath as the ball dropped to the ground. He slowly exhaled trying not to clutch his face pain.

His father stood at the doorway watching Zeke unflinchingly. He didn't do as much as blink when the ball hit him.

"I want the house clean when I get back," he said before leaving the apartment.

Zeke didn't relax till it had been atleast twenty minutes since his departure. He took an hour to clean the house, but knew it would look the same in a few nights.

**********

Once he had finished cleaning he glanced out the window to make sure his father's car wasn't in the parking lot for any reason. Once he was sure he silently snuck into his father's room. His heart hammered against his chest. Even alone a shadow of fear covered his heart.

He knelt down and opened his father's drawer. He brought and album and set it down on his lap. Opening it he saw what he was looking for.

Smiling back at him was a tall women with unruly black locks flowing around he shoulders. Zeke liked to believe that he looked mostly like his mother. They shared the same black hair with eyes to match, but that's where the similarities had ended.

Physically, he didn't look like any of his parents. He was tall, lean, and shy; nothing like his mother who stood proudly with broad shoulders and a crooked nose.

Sometimes Zeke wondered if things would be different if she was with him today. If she was still alive.

Now that he was alone, Zeke didn't try to stop the tears rolling down his cheeks. He continued to flip through the album until the doorbell rang.

Panic and fear resonated in him. He hastily put the book away and ran to the restroom to wash his face. His hand was trembling when he went to open the door.