Flares in the Dark

1.06 | a boy of hopelessness

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WALTER LIVED IN A RUN DOWN HOUSE, which was barely inhabitable with the garden overrun with weeds, leaking water from the drain spreading a disgusting odour through the air and stained doors and greasy windows which reflected the years of neglect the house had been through.

Walter was leading the group with slow, small steps like he was ashamed to show them the reality of what his world had been for his entire life. Broken glass littered the porch and there was a day old stain of something that Liam could only assume was beer. He was trying not to judge Walter, but it was hard not to pity the boy who lived in worse conditions than him.

If Liam was a boy of war, Walter was a boy of hopelessness. Which, in hindsight, was decidedly worse than whatever Liam had been through. At least during the war, there was a chance of victory, a chance to escape the chaos and commotion and to make a better life for yourself.

But hopelessness was much worse. Hopelessness denied the basic rights of existence, it gnawed at a person till the person was left raw and bleeding with no chance of survival. It played on and on in a repetitive, never-ending, monotonous cycle.

Dashed hopes. Sorry flung away. Overpowering sadness. Never enough. Each day. Everyday.

That was what Walter had to go through. On the good days. On the bad ones, there was also an added chance of his father not being drunk enough or high enough and a new cycle of beatings and verbal abuse would start. Walter would take everything, endure the pain, silence his cries through the struggle. Clinging on to a thought of survival and a better future.

Just a thought, though, not a hope.

Hopes signified a possibility, something that could happen or might happen if one tried hard enough or prayed enough. They propelled you to work, to make them come true. Hopes gave meaning to life, to days, even they never came true anyway.

Thoughts were just the opposite, it was meaningless, a mirage of a reality envisioned inside a twisted mind which would never come true, no matter what you did. Nothing ever comes true just by thinking about it.

Thoughts were also harmless. If a person knew they couldn't have it and still chose to fantasise about it, they wouldn't be disappointed when it didn't come true. Hopes gave way to hurt and resentment when they fail toled complete their purpose. Which was why they were dangerous. And which was why Walter couldn't afford to hang on to them.

There was also a stark difference between hopelessness and despair. Hopelessness, when you put it simply, is just the absence of hope. The absence of wishing for good things to happen because you know that can't. Despair, on the other hand, is waiting for bad things to happen because you think that nothing good can ever be true for you, and keep waiting in a perpetual state of despair for your entire life.

At least, hopelessness was substantially better than despair. At least, Walter wasn't withering away into his torment, refusing to let it wrap around him like a snake and cut off his circulation and blur away everything good he still held on to even after all this time.

Just before they could gather the courage to enter the house, Walter stopped them. He wanted to make sure they knew exactly what they were getting ready for and what could potentially happen if his dad chose this day to be only half drunk. There was a greater possibility of that not happening, but that small if loomed over their heads like impending doom.

It was better not to take the chance, just in case the if came true.

Hesitant words tumbled over each other in their rush to make their presence felt and Walter shrunk under the scrutiny of his friends, "We have to be careful and silent. Not one sound or he might wake up and chase after us. If he wakes up, we run. As fast as we can. Otherwise-"