Our Paradise

3

A light breeze blew through the park sending slight chills down Leanna's back. Her curly hair followed the flow of the wind carelessly -- she didn't bother fixing it. She checked her wristwatch, reading the time.

1:15. Late.

She simply smiled and huffed a short-lived sigh as she rocked back and forth on the swing. Glancing at her small backpack, she saw the brim of Lance's hat poking out and decided she'd try it on for size.

By the time the Cuban had finally arrived, she'd gotten plenty comfortable with the hat and almost didn't want to give it up. He sat on the swing next to her, staring off into the distance. The pair stayed silent for a while until Leanna noticed the long sleeves he was wearing.

"Lance, touch?"

The boy went stiff at the all too familiar words, cursing himself for being found out again. He looked off to the side, refusing to make eye contact.

"Lance. Answer me, please. Touch?"

He frowned to himself before extending his arm and yanking the sleeve up in a rather harsh manner.

"I did it, okay?! I cut again. Is that what you wanted to hear?" He snapped, still refusing to meet her eyes. The girl frowned as well, lightly grabbing onto his wrist and pulling it towards herself.

"Anywhere else?" She asked, being careful not to press onto the new cuts and bruises.

"Not from myself..." At last, he finally turned his head and met her eyes. Somehow, she still managed to show the same compassion and kindness she'd always had, even after he'd snapped at her so many times.

"Okay... where?"

"My back... my head... Dad said that if I didn't wear jeans to hide the bruises he'd do worse..."

The girl puffed her cheeks out slightly, her nose scrunching up the slightest bit. "I'm sorry. Have you treated anything?"

"Didn't have to, really. That bottle of vodka they smashed on my head seeped into everything and sterilized it." The boy added a broken chuckle as he spoke in an attempt to lighten the tense atmosphere.

Leanna pulled her lips into a straight line before reaching for her bag. She cleaned each wound carefully, making sure nothing burned too badly. Once the last few cuts had been bandaged, she placed a light kiss on each of his wrists, a smile forming across her features as she met his gaze again.

"Please don't cut again, okay? It's rough watching you do that to yourself after all of this is happening... you don't deserve any of it."

The two grew quiet once again, letting the calm breeze and occasional chirping bird lighten the mood a bit before they dove back in for more.

"What was the problem this time?"

Lance looked down at his shoes, studying each dirty, torn detail. "Dad had a bad day at work. Apparently, his files were late and it was my fault. He thinks I'm slacking at practice, too. Says I'm too skinny. Mom had a rough day with the kids... she forgot about Friday night practice yesterday and got mad that I was 'late'.

"Veronica thought I stole her brush and when she found it in her room, she assumed I threw it back in there... before I knew it, she'd smacked me upside the head with it and Dad had started his nightly 'Drink 'Til You Drop'. Mom didn't get help with dinner so I didn't eat. And then the usual... slapping and kicking... it all started after that. It's kind of a blur..."

Leanna closed her eyes and said yet another silent prayer, moving her lips as she spoke without tone to the Father.

Lance glared at the ground, his shoulders slumping forward. "If... if your... prayers are really worth the time... where's the result? Why is this God you believe in letting this happen to me?"