Purified - Bennoda

Prologue

The worn street was crudely painted under a light layer of ebony tar, surrounding streetlights revealing the cracks and eroding rocks from the road. Releasing a warm, soft gust, I sighed deeply, watching my feet gradually take the path home. Ignoring the pain and confusion, I approached my house, quickly entering.

"Chester, you missed dinner again," My mother scolded me as I closed the door, facing it to make sure it was secure. I felt my heart sink into my chest, not wanting to lie again. "I thought I told you to come home before the streetlights turn on."

"I didn't notice it was starting to get dark. I'm sorry," My excuse was rushed and rehearsed, having used it dozens of times. I noticed my siblings playing video games together in the small living room that was connected to the kitchen. A frown began forming on my face as I realized I missed seeing my father before he went to work - again.

"Your dad already left and I put the leftovers away," she informed me and I simply nodded, deciding I'd just eat cereal again, the product my father makes at the factory and can bring home for free. "I tell you everyday, Chester, and you still don't come home on time."

"I know, I'm sorry, I just lose track of time," I excused, having not expected her to talk further on the matter.

"Next time it happens, you're grounded," She threatened before going to sit in the living room with my older brother and sister.

After another long sigh, I headed to the bathroom and closed the door behind me, finally letting all the tears spill over. I stare at my reflection as I slowly remove my clothes, a lump catches in my throat as I eye the protruding bruises all over my arms and legs. As a clumsy kid, my parents never suspected much from them. Holding back a sob, I start running the shower, turning it as hot as it could go.

Stepping under the hot stream, I hissed at the pain that lapped at my skin, turning it pink. I took deep breaths of steam as I let the water run down my aching back. The tears blurred my vision and I suddenly felt lightheaded. I carefully sat down, the water beating on the top of my head. I struggled to open my eyes as I grabbed desperately at my own skin, attempting to scrub as hard as possible with my own hands. Unable to hold back, a sob slipped out of my throat and I buried my face into my knees, crying harshly. I thought about what happened earlier, confused and hurt.

My best friend, Charlie, didn't live the best life and that was one of the reasons I liked him so much. I loved showing off the toys I had and sharing them with him, even offering him to keep some. He was a few years older than me and his father died when he was just two years old, sending his mother into a spiral of depression. I rarely saw her and when I did, she was asleep or possibly on drugs. Neither of us knew that, however, we only felt the neglect. It was always fun hanging out at his house, though, as his mother wasn't home too often. We'd normally have the whole place to ourselves and since he had no siblings, he had two bedrooms.

I became friends with him when I was 4 years old and we automatically became best friends, inseparable. I stayed the night every weekend and even more days during school vacations and summer. By the time I reached 5, he started stealing my stuff and claiming it was his all along or that he had recently gone out and bought it. Ignorant, and a child, I let it go and didn't think much of it. Then, he started coming up with strange games that I didn't understand.

Today had been different, however, he wasn't so much trying to deceive or manipulate me as much as he was attempting to hurt me. He started getting more violent as I began to avoid the games he wanted to play. I wondered if he hated me, what I did wrong, and if I was to blame for what happened. He'd never been more cruel than he was today.

Turning off the faucet, I sat in the new silence that surrounded me. I could feel my eyes were bloodshot and tired from all the tears, as they were currently still dripping off my face and down my knees. Lifting my head from position, I groggily looked around the foggy room. I didn't feel safe for some reason. I grabbed a towel and dried off before tying it around my midsection.

Looking at my reflection once again, I see my eyes are red and puffy, my skin a bright pink and creating a strange blend between my bruises. I was confused and in pain that I couldn't understand. Changing into fresh clothes, I head to the room I shared with my older brother after noticing everyone had already gone to bed. I take my place on the top bunk, my brother fast asleep on the bunk below. I stared at the textured ceiling and thought back again on today. I figured Charlie must've been having some kind of problem today at home or was upset over something he'd get over. Thinking, then believing that he was going to be normal tomorrow, I cleared my head to sleep.

After a few hours, I burst wide awake with a feeling of dread and fear. I shake and feel tears swell into my eyes as I attempt to catch my breath, the nightmare still prominent in my brain. Every night I am woken up by these nightmares, some nights there are more than one. A part of me wanted to run to my mother and seek comfort in her arms, but my parents no longer cared about my nightmares because they were so persistent. They probably didn't believe I was even having them. Laying back down with a chill rushing down my spine, I let the tears welling up in my eyes slip onto the white pillow. Tomorrow would be better, maybe, I think to myself as I go back to sleep.

But maybe I should've kept my eyes open.

The next day, I woke up to an empty house. My mother had gone to work, along with both of my teenage siblings, my father finishing up his shift soon to come home and sleep until he had to go back. I poured myself a bowl of cereal and went in front of the television, upset there were no Saturday morning cartoons on the channels we had. I settled on a random show to kill the silence around me as I ate my breakfast.

A knock on the door made my heart drop into my stomach. Setting the cereal bowl to the side, I checked the window closest to the door and saw Charlie. I really didn't want to talk to him, I was still hurt over yesterday, but I opened one of the two doors that separated us, the one remaining clear to see each other's faces. He had a casual smile on his face, which turned to confusion after I didn't open the other door.

"Come on, let's go to my house," He suggested and I shook my head, refusing to speak to him. "Why not? Are you not talking to me?"

I shook my head again.

"About yesterday..." He trailed off, then looked me in the eyes, quickly turning his gaze away and stuffing his face into his hands. "I'm just... I'm so sad about my dad, I'm alone all the time. Please talk to me."

He peaked out from behind his hands a little, seeing I wasn't budging, but had a look of confusion. He started to cry.

"Please! I don't know what I'd do without you, I don't even have my dad," He cried and I started to feel bad for him. I figured yesterday was a one time thing and opened the other door. He tore his face away from my hands and grabbed my wrist, pulling me out of my house as I barely managed to close the big door behind me, just narrowly avoiding getting hit by the second door. I noticed he had no tears on his face as he pulled me towards his house, but I had no time to comment with the grip on my wrist.