always ask why //phan

fateful vandalism

~dan~

after a long day at school, i decided to skip my dnd club meeting and just go straight to my house. i dont think i can handle seeing another person without snapping.

the way they see me through blinded eyes drives me crazy. they always look at me like im just a baby bird with a thorn in its wing. they stare at the bruises with pity, yet they never wonder how they got there. they look at the scars yet never stop to think that maybe i put them there for a reason. no one ever asks why.

on the walk home, i decide to take a shortcut. i cut through the basketball court, hoping that no one from school sees me. i stay close to the edge of the pavement, avoiding the stares of the children at the playground.

i see something move out of the corner of my eye and turn to look. i see a boy, about my age, picking up a small rubber ball and gently tossing it back to a little girl. ive never seen him before; he must go to the local private school. his icy blue eyes meet mine and he smiles, warm and genuine.

i attempt to return the gesture, but it comes out as more of a grimace. i direct my gaze back to the ground in embarrassment and continue walking, quickening my pace.

as i arrive at my house, i slow down, suddenly regretting coming back. this structure is home to a lot of bad memories, and knowing my parents, it will house a lot more soon.

when i open the door, i am immediately greeted by the smell of beer and sex. there is broken glass on the floor and a hole in the wall, right where the family picture used to hang.

i sneak past my unconscious father on the couch and make my way up the stairs. as i turn the corner, a man slips out of my mother's room. this isnt an uncommon occurrence; my parents have been sleeping around on each other for so long that they dont even bother trying to hide it anymore.

although, once this disgusting stranger reaches the bottom of the stairs, he accidentally kicks a beer bottle against the wall, waking the beast that is my father.

"who the hell are you?" the drunken man saunters over to my mother's temporary lover, and the air is suddenly filled with the sound of fist meeting face. i cringe and turn back to my room, locking the door after i enter. i sit down at my desk, grabbing a sharpie to finish a drawing that was there.

i hear my mother's door swing open and frantic footsteps running down the stairs. "what the fuck did you just do?"

"this asshole was in our house!"

"i brought him here! he was just leaving!"

"well he needs to leave quieter. he shouldnt have even been here! i can't believe i married a whore."

a stunned silence.

"i cant believe i married a drunk."

"its all because of that kid! hes caused us so many problems. and its all because you insisted on not using a damn condom!"

ah, yes. the daily complaint. im the cause of their problems. ive heard it so much that ive started to believe it.

i hear more footsteps coming up the stairs. a fist bangs on my door, and i quickly jump up to unlock it, slipping my marker into my pocket. i stand silently as my mother's eyes stare back at me. "y-yes?

"this is all your fucking fault." i let out a roar of pain as a knee smashes into my stomach. a fist finds my nose. i try to fight back but immediately give up; i give into the torture, convincing myself that I really do deserve it.

once my mother leaves, i grab a tissue to aid my bleeding nose and pull on my shoes. i slip out my window and make my way into the night.

i hold the tissue to my face, applying as much pressure as i can handle. fuck, it's probably broken, i think.

i steal towards the playground that i passed earlier, thinking about the smile that i received from the handsome stranger. he probably thinks im weird. i cringe, thinking about how i couldn't even return the simple gesture without fucking up.

i slowly sneak over to the giant slide, slipping behind it and sitting down on the mulch. i lean against the still-warm plastic and notice a plush figure less than a foot away. i ignore it and take a fist full of wood chips in my hand. i spread out my fingers and watch as they trickle back to the ground, delicately falling back into their place.

i sigh and stick my hand into my pocket and realize that i still have my sharpie there. looking at the crude drawings and pointless scratches on the bottom of the slide, a thought crosses my mind but i shake it away. i spin the black marker around my fingers, trying to ignore the impulse im having.

before i can stop myself, i feel myself uncapping the marker and writing on the piece of playground equipment.

"always ask why. youll never know the truth if you dont. youll never understand if you don't ask why."

i sigh, regretting my decision. i eventually get up after sitting in silence for a long while. i walk back towards the hell that is my house, but not before glancing back at my words.

i never remembered to put the sharpie back in my pocket.