There was a look in his eye, she couldn't tell if it was fear or defiance. Maybe a bit of both. She knew he was scared. She heard him cry himself to sleep at night. Sobs, long and hard, filled with a lifetime of frustration. She knew she should run to comfort him, she knew her first instinct should be to want to protect him, make him feel better. She was too lost in her own self pity. Too swamped up by her own pain. Her own suffering, she didn't need or want anyone elses. As she screamed at him, she saw he no longer felt pain from her words, he no longer listened to them. She no longer hurt him and that's what she wanted most of all, for him too hurt.
She'd once had friends, the kind you had to impress, the kind that you had the urge to fit in with. There was always a sense of urgency about the relationship, like if everything wasn't done to a perfect standard then the friendship would fall apart. These aren't the kind of friends you can afford to lose either. Oh no. These are the kind of friends that can make or break a life. She needed them, like you need your designer clothes, designer hair, designer boyfriend, like you need to fit in. It's all about how you appear to the world.
She sometimes looked at him and felt love. She wanted to love him. She did. For short periods of time she was convinced she loved him. Yet she still felt the hate at the bottom of her stomach. She could feel it waiting to burst out. He would just have to laugh to loudly, ask her to play with him and it would be there like a huge waterfall, drowning him in anger. He loved her, without a doubt. She could tell. The joy he got out of the slight attention she gave him. When she allowed him out of his bedroom. His tear streaked face would break into a smile. He didn't cry much during the day, he'd learnt that just brought more punishment. When she listened to him cry at night, she cried too, both lost in their own pain.
Her designer boyfriend didn't want to know when she told him, he was to busy with his friends, with being a young boy. It was him that had told her to prove her love for him, he told her it would all be alright, she was the one that had to live with the consequences. Her friends supported her, but she heard the whispers, she saw the looks. She hated herself. She looked in the mirror and was disgusted at what she saw. She didn't leave the house much after that, she didn't need school, she knew she'd be looked after, she knew what happened to girls like her, she knew it all.
When you see them for the first time you're supposed to feel a wave of love. She wanted to sleep. She didn't want to look at him, hold him, she slept. All the people who hadn't accepted her, they showered him with attention, they still looked at her with the same disgust. They still barely acknowledged her existance. She was insignificant now. She was fifteen years old. She punished them the only way she could. She took this gift of life away from them. She moved away. They were on their own, everyone was hurting.
Locked together in this confined space, she let him cry. He learnt no one came when he cried. So soon he stopped. She didn't hear it anyway. For short periods of time she'd be ok with him. She'd function as a Mother, but thinking was her worst enemy, it tortured her, thinking of her life before this thing came to ruin it. She hated that he needed her, that he'd reach out to her. She hated the attention he got. How everyone thought he was wonderful.
It felt good to hurt him, for a few seconds she had a release, she was free. Oh to be free. She knew she should feel guilt as he cowered in the corner, as he shuck with fear, she didn't feel anything. Just the frustration, she couldn't live like this. They were torturing each other. Years had gone by. She'd lost her youth and she was ruining his.
She thought about it for a while. Could she do it? Could she really do that to him? She hugged him first. He didn't know how to take this show of affection. His body never relaxed in her arms. She took his hand in hers and lead him to the bedroom. It didn't take long, she picked up her packed suitcase and left. She only stopped to make a phone call, she never looked back, hoping that one day she'd stop hating herself.
The police arrived not long after. The house was deathly quiet. They looked in each room till they came to the locked door, still there was silence, it didn't take long to break the flimsy lock, and there he was on the floor, five years old, playing happily.