Her messed up freedom; His caged perfection

3

She ran.

Down the railway she called her second home.

A simple railway she called her running track.

A dim, sunlit railway she called an escape.

Faster and faster.

She kept running.

The tears that blurred her vision ripping away from her eyes as the wind hit her face violently while she tried to sprint away from all reality. She rubbed her face desperately in attempt to kill the tears, only for them to appear again and again as stabbing feelings of rejection and loneliness returned every time she opened her eyes.

It was only when she spotted a small figure ahead of her that she decided to slow her steps. Shivering and weeping, she approached what seemed to be a boy curled up in a tight ball as if waiting for impact.

~HER PERSPECTIVE~

He shook in fear as my steps drew closer, as if every step I took had the potential to make the sky fall and crash over the earth.

By now, my tears had disappeared. I was too intrigued in the person, the outline of his timid figure exaggerated in the glow of the sunset. I got close enough to kneel beside the shaking figure. He wept quietly, becoming aware of my presence. "Please don't h-hurt m-m-me.." he stuttered while I just sat there, taking in his features from his dark brown, slightly curly locks and pale complexion. To think that this boy assumed that I would hurt him made me feel both confused and powerful.  

I said nothing. 

I just sat there wondering why he would think I would hurt him, and though I knew I did nothing wrong, I felt a rare feeling. It was guilt. 

I don't know why it was guilt, but I couldn't bare watch his slightly rosy cheeks be ruined by tear stains. He still never lifted his head even though he knew I was there.

"W-why haven't you hit me yet!!" He suddenly shouted, sending a slight shock through my chest. "You've never had a problem with beating me ever before! Not once in 15 fucking years! Why now?!" He screamed and cried harder into is hands. 

I could do nothing. This boy was expecting the person kneeling beside him to beat him. But why? Has it happened before in the last 15 years? 

"Just beat me already, mum! Do it! I don't care anymore!" He cried. Still, he never lifted his head. 

I didn't know what to do, but I knew I couldn't hit this boy like his supposed 'mother' did. Instead, I reached out to the boy and stroked his soft, brown hair gently. He flinched at my touched but then relaxed, likely confused in the situation. At least now he knew he wasn't in immediate danger and the stranger I was didn't have the same intensions as his mother.

I let out a deep breath which helped ease the lightning speed of my racing heartbeat. We sat in silence for a few minutes as the boys crying slowly died away and he rested his head on my thigh, obviously exhausted. The sun was disappearing behind the horizon and I knew that it was going to become quite cool soon. 

He had stopped shaking and was slowly falling asleep on my lap. Once I heard soft snores echoing through his warm breath against my leg, I picked him up and moved us to the side of the track under a tree and lay on the soft grass. As I drifted off to sleep, I could only think of this boys parents and how awful they must've possibly been to make him feel so traumatised. For now, he lay beside a stranger under a tree by the train track. And I could tell he'd rather it this way then go back to wherever he came from. 

I looked over at his sleeping figure, eyes closed lightly and his lips only slightly parted, releasing a soft hum as he slept. Over his pale skin, a deep blue and purple bruise.

Alas, he was beautiful.

///

Perhaps he was broken just like her, but she still saw beauty. Even I, the author, is aware of the famous saying 'beauty is within', but the broken girl was very sure that the sleeping boy who lay beside her was completely and utterly beautiful. 

//He was beautiful//

~ Yours Truly ~