Loving Stars

first chapter: In another life,

When I was five, I knew this boy. His name was William Johnson, but everyone called him Billy.

Perhaps the teachers would have called him William if he was naughty, but he never was.
I could only describe Billy as a cheerful, silly and shy yet energetic boy with big brown eyes. He was that kind of a boy who would wave at strangers from a grocery cart in supermarket for no reason.

Sometimes when I looked at him he reminded me of smiling dummies in shopping centres, creepily staring at you through glass that couldn't be thick enough for you not to dream about them the night after.

However, he was an ordinary boy, drawing quarters of suns in corner of papers, smelling scented markers and hugging his mommy's leg when she came to pick him up.

I found him interesting.

I remember how he approached me on my first day. I was lonely and I was sitting in a corner of the room, watching others play.

Suddenly sticky, bright red popsticle was right in front of my face. So close that I could smell its sweet, cherry favor.

He sat next to me, because he thought I looked sad, he said.

I told him how I daydreamt about being an astronaut, immediately.
As if the fact was life-threatning

I want to see stars, I told him.

Billy told me that he was afraid of heights and when I asked him why he thought about it.

"I don't like mommies games. They are silly."

I didn't understand, but didn't want to sound dumb so I just nodded.

I wish I hadn't...

Billy was the only one who sat with me in the corner and chatted with me.
Billy was the only one who brought me postickles.
Billy was the only one who told me that my giggling was cute.

So, when Billy cried and held his hand after police officers freed him from his fathers grasp I was the first one who gave him a hug.

The tears were streaking down his redenned cheeks and wrinkles on his forehead expressed his pain and worry. But he didn't worry about the forming bruise on his petite wrist or the metal taste of blood in his mouth.

No. He was worried about his daddy under the bad sir who looked at the mostouched man with disgust. He pleaded and it broke my little heart seeing him so helpless.

That day I learned nothing is as it seems...

I never forgot that cheerful boy who wasn't so cheerful after all.
I can see the boy smiling with the bright red, cherry popstickle in his petite sticky hand, but also the boy with tears on his cheeks begging officers to let his daddy go even if he had hurt him.

Because Billy loved... he just wasn't loved back...

I never saw Billy again.