Save Him

2.

Taelynn.

"I'm home mommy and daddy" I yelled through the house and I dropped the keys to my Jeep in the glass bowl that sits by the door. "In here sweetie" I heard my moms sweet voice call from the living room and practically ran into the living room and jumped across her and my dads lap; snuggling them.

"Baby we need to talk" My dad grabbed my face and looked at me. "Is your boyfriend hitting on you? You know I'll fuck him up" My eyes widened and I jumped up, confused.

"No; what are you getting at?" I looked at them.

"Well we found this poem; and I'm not sure how to feel about it. Your dad doesn't hit you while I'm gone right? I'd get a divorce right now and kill him" My mom spoke up and I tried not to laugh because they were being serious right now.

"No mom; I've never been hit before. Can I see this poem?" She handed it to me and I noticed it wasn't my hand writing and it's clear as day that Quincy name is right on top of the paper; my parents always half look at something; I took a seat and read the poem.

••
Sitting alone under the night sky so black,
Nobody knows what he's holding back,
Pulling his sleeves past the black and blue,
Once these bruises fade they'll come back anew.

Looking up at the stars so high,
Sometimes he wishes he could melt into the sky,
Out of his eye drops a single tear,
As he realizes he has to face his worst fear.

At the thought of home he shutters,
And a prayer for help he mutters,
His angry father's face shakes in his head,
And his broken heart fills with dread.

The front door creaks as he steps inside,
Jumping over beer bottles he runs to hide,
Sliding under his bed he tries not to make a sound,
Too late: the floor creaks as he touches the ground.

He tries to hold back the tears, he hits him harder when he cries.
But they slip out as the heavy steps get closer, he's terrified,
The door slams open, the pain is about to come,
His dad's clothes smell like smoke and rum.

He lifts him up by a chunk of his hair,
Taking the first punch he begins to swear,
He cries for help, but it's to late,
He won't stop till he's got out all the hate.
••

I put the poem down and wiped some tears as they fell on the paper. I folded the paper back; and it felt like my heart was being ripped out my chest.

"This is the boy from school that I told you about, You think he's going through this?" I sniffled and my dad pulled me in for a hug.

"Your little crush since ninth grade?" My mom smiled and I rolled my eyes.

"I don't like him. I have a boyfriend" I smiled. "But What if this poem is true? How do I approach him?"

I had never experienced nothing like this; or had a friend that went through anything like this so I was clueless to the fact. I've literally always had the perfect life; I could remember times I would speak to him and he'd ignore me. My friends would all pick with him; and I'll always stand up for him. Just because we didn't grow up in the hood or come from a bad background doesn't me we could treat people any type of way.

I noticed his clothes and shoes; but I didn't care. He was fine; and I don't like him or nothing but he seemed like a sweetheart and what he wears or how little he had didn't mean he didn't deserve friends.