I sighed as I opened my eyes to see the glow of red in my room. I was sure it was coming from a forest fire nearby but I couldn't be bothered to freak out anymore.
I did in the beginning but it started to happen more frequently causing many of our neighbours to move away in fear of getting caught in the fire but we were too poor to be able to afford moving.
Plus, I'm not sure what was worse anymore. Getting burned alive or getting beat up to a pulp. It's been getting worse recently because the guys wanted to 'have their last bit of fun' as they liked to call it before moving away. I was starting to lose myself quicker in the past weeks but as each letter from my brother arrived, I was reminded that I still had someone to live for. I had a resolve and I couldn't bring myself to dig the blade deeper than I did each time.
In case you're wondering why a nine-year-old child would do this to himself, I'll give you a little insight on how getting treated like a real-life punching bag feels like.
Imagine, getting beat up so often that you start feeling like you deserve it. You start to question your existence on earth. You want to pull out all of your own hair so that someone else couldn't do it to you because you know for a fact that they would be so much rougher.
Visualize getting pushed off a tree house that you built for yourself as a solace from everything that was happening around you just because your bullies knew that it won't kill you physically. That day, I had lost a part of myself and I never managed to find it again. Every time it happened, I lost a little bit more of myself. Each time, my light dimmed by just a fraction and it would never come back on.
I'll save you the details of how crappy you look after each of these events but I'll let you know one thing. It definitely kills you inside a little more each time and there's absolutely nothing that you are capable of doing about it. It hurts me so much that I only have one thing besides my brother that can help me stay sane and that's nature but now even all my favourite hideouts are being ruined by the fires. Hell, I like watching the fires. I loved watching them so much but it saddens me to see that I'm about to lose another piece of my will to live. Another piece of me.
YOU ARE READING
The Andromeda Boy
Short StoryHis name was Shiki but I didn't know that. I didn't care and I still don't because I didn't change, he did. Now, here's his story. Read it, digest it and forget it. It's his story, don't make it yours.
