Mio Amore Rosso

Big boys dont cry

Tim's POV 8yrs old.

I watched mommy and daddy leave through my bedroom window. My chin tucked into my arms as I leaned against the window sill and soft crys filling the empty room as I watched the car drive out of sight.

I wanted them to stay and didn't understand why they had to leave again so soon. They'd only just gotten back from their last trip.

My shoulders slumped forward in defeat. They hadn't even been home for more then an few hours and it was night time so I'd barely gotten to see them. Not that this was new. This is how it always was.

They'd leave for days, come home late in the evening, then they'd leave again the next morning, starting the cycle all over again.

Sometimes we'd have dinner together if they got home early enough, but I always had to be quiet. Never speaking out of turn. Always knowing my place.

Holidays were the worst and although I got more presents and toys then I could ever play with myself, they were never here to watch me open them. Never here to open my gift to them either. It was lonely. Too lonely.

Especially for a kid.

Alice, my nanny, walked in, sighing when she saw me still standing by the window. "Timothy, come along. You have a full day ahead of you." Her tone was stern, but soft. She was more of a parent at this point and the only real comfort I knew was from her.

Although, it was mostly in the form of words. Nothing physical, but I preferred it that way.

Quickly wiping my tears, I nodded, turning to face her as I sniffled. She offered me her hand, but I just shoved my hands into my pockets, looking down at my feet.

She shook her head, but smiled softly. "Go wash up, then come down for breakfast." She turned to leave, but stopped for a moment to look back at me from the doorway. "Remember Timothy, big boys don't cry."

With that, she left my room, shutting the door behind her. I wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed and hide there the rest of my life, but I knew Alice would just come back to get me if I didn't hurry up. So I made my way to the bathroom to wash my face

I scrubbed away the drying tears and snot from my cheeks and chin. I was always being told I was too old to cry, or that if I did cry, I was a baby, but I couldn't help it. The tears came so easily sometimes and I couldn't stop them. I felt so alone. My heart hurt so much.

I missed mommy and daddy all the time. It was rare that I got to go anywhere with them and even then, my nanny always came to, making sure that I wouldn't get in their way.

I just wanted to make them proud. The feeling that they left me because they didn't want to be seen with me ate at me like a plague. It made me feel sick and exhausted as I pushed myself to do things perfectly, so maybe they'd notice that I could be a good son.

I looked up into the mirror after drying my face and grimaced. Dark circles were always under my eyes and my skin was always too pale. My hair was always cut too short for my liking, but mommy liked it this way.

My clothes were always pressed neatly and were stain free. Making me look the part of the perfect child a least. Sometimes, I purposely spilled something on me just to get attention. Anything that wasn't the silence in a house that felt more like a prison.

I'd take yelling over being ignored anyday.

Finally, making my way downstairs, I felt cold air around my body, causing me to shiver. Maybe I had a fever. Maybe if I did, I'd get sent to bed. The thought thrilled me as I brought my hand up to my forehead, chewing the inside of my cheek as I did.