Terminally Abstract

Chapter 7

"You really know how to make me cry, when you hit me with those Ocean Eyes. I'm scared. I've never fallen from quite this high, falling into your Ocean Eyes." - Billie Eilish

NO! This can't be happening! My knees collapsed to the floor, sending a stinging pain to my knee caps.

"Michael! Michael, come out!", muffled hollers came from my window. Pressing my face against the glass, Arthur is standing outside.

"Looks like your friend needs youuu, Michy.", my father grumbled. I gagged from his reeking breath, overrun with the smell of alcohol.

"Yeah, more than you need me.", I said, standing.

"Don't you play smart with me, boy!" My father raised his hand, poised for an attack. I covered my face but it was too late, his heavy hand slapped my face. I couldn't stand this anymore.

"Father, leave me alone." I spoke sternly, stone-ly, and this wave of courage came over me, and...pure horror. I clenched my fists. I'm tired of people like Arthur always defending me; for me to always run away. Can't I have control of my own god damn life?! I can't keep running.

Something caught the corner of my eye. A mirror. I saw the same stone glare my mother had always given me. She'd given my father this look countless times while he was drunk. Until the day he hit her, her defense broke into shambles and never came back up. It was 3rd grade and nothing had changed, years of love wiped out by one action. It seemed as if his stress was too much. We never felt so terrified in our life. The years of neglect from my parents seemed to have added up until now. This is it, this is now, but I'm already back in their tracks.

But he wasn't against the idea this whole time. It's now, quite the opposite.

I crumpled under my own reflection. My father sensed my meekness and smirked.

"Pathetic, aren't you? Just like your stupid mother! You ruined her! I don't need cowards in this house. Why'd you have to be fucking born?!" He lead a shaking step. "Go then! Get out! GET OUUUTT!!!" He groggily grabbed the nearest item, my canvas and hurled it towards me. It was sent a few inches above my head, but his hand left it's mark. I scrambled downstairs and caught my mother crying. Instead of her ice cold glare, she gave me a pleading look. There was no time. I knew that. As I got to the door, I began to feel nauseated. My legs were limp and I hurled my weight against the door.

"Michael!" Arthur's voice boomed against my ear drums.

"I tried, Arthur. I really tried this time." Mucus made my breathing ragged. My eyes turned to water. "I really tried.", I croaked. "He wasn't like this before! He was different." I began to sound like my mother from 3rd grade.

Arthur gripped me.

"This won't get any better if you defend him now." He looked back at the house and to my shivering body. "Stay at my house tonight. There's nothing else you could do."

"I have to go back." I need to finish what I started. It was a fight I'd never win, but I don't care.

He gripped me harder.

"I don't trust him with you. Look, you're already bruised up! Let me help you, I want to protect you." I looked away to my house. Flames spewed out through the windows and gushes of water heaved up the chimney.

I was shaken.

"Michael! Snap out of it!"

"Please, let me stay at your house." Arthur gave me a sharp nod and I gave him a glazed look.

___________________

I blinked and found myself on his doorsteps. The full moon shone a magnificent marshmallow light. She was pure and innocent. Arthur wore white. I hadn't noticed Arthur's hand holding my own, pulling me along. Warm and mildly damp,  he was nervous. Yet, his grip maintained me from floating right off the floor.

His house was dark and small. Memories of past play dates were inhaled, how the past seemed so white. My eyes were heavy and the room spun.

"Michael, we're here." His room was white. A small dresser and bed occupied most of the space. A blue and yellow theme danced across his posters, figurines, and lamp.

"Come on, Michael. Don't disassociate now! Look at me! Look at me, Michael!" I found myself on the cool floor, swiped my hand along the tiles, feeling each individual, then along Arthur's face, who was crouching.

"Arthur." I groaned. His eyes were anxious tidal waves and he heaved me onto his bed. "Arthur" I groaned once more. "I-I...like. Thank you." Arthur sighed in relief. Nice one, Michael. I closed my eyes and didn't blink until the next morning.