If It Doesn't Hurt, It's Not Abuse

(5) Late-Night Thinking

There he lay in his twin sized bed. The palms of his callused hands covered his hazel eyes, in a last attempt to keep the surfacing tears from falling down his red cheeks. His thick rimmed glasses had been tossed on the nearest thing beside him -a bed stand-.

"Sweetie, why would you do this to me. You cause more harm than good."

His door was shut and the house was quiet, but his head was everything but. The words his mother had spoken -yelled- to him echoed throughout his mind.

"You know better than this! I thought I raised you to be just like your brother, where did I go wrong? "

He wanted to stop her from saying such hateful things, but his legs wouldn't move. They stuck to the ground as if covered in molasses. Perhaps it wasn't because he wouldn't move, but couldn't. Maybe he was scared that she would make it worse.

Scared.

"You are just so terrible that it makes me want to cry! You're really making the one who raised you, cry!"

Toma Shinjo didn't know what he did wrong. He really didn't. But he did do something, that was obvious.

"I had to lie to your father for you pathetic... "

All he did was go to the store to buy groceries, he didn't tell his mother because it had simply slipped from his mind. He thought she would have understood. He was with a friend, she should be happy that he was able to make one.

"You can't do anything right!"

He thought she would have forgiven him.

"It was such a simple task! Useless!"

It had only been one mistake.

Just one mistake.

When he calmed down from his panicked state of mind, he rolled over on his right side to check the time.

The digital clock cut through the darkness -darkness? Was it already that late?- Providing a sense of light. The numbers were clear as day, 12:20. Toma stifled a gasp of surprise by covering his mouth.

Had he really spent that much time in his bed, clinging onto his thoughts? He wasted so much time there. So much.

"I'm so stupid..." He muttered under his breath, his voice raw from the disuse, while his tongue throbbed dully from bitting it to keep his cries lowered. A small metallic taste lingered in the back of his throat, which he was determined to get rid of.

With a small burst of energy, he swung his legs over to the side of his bed, his stomach growled from the lack of attention given. If he was going to do anything that night, it should be with a somewhat full stomach.

He fumbled with his glasses before shuffling his slippers across the wooden floor. The lights were all shut off in the house, so it was safe to assume his mother was not awake. Without realizing it, Toma let out a small breath of relief.

But why would he feel nothing but relief?

Didn't he love his mother?

"Don't you love me, Toma?"

" ... "

He was a terrible person, why didn't he feel any positive emotions towards her? The one person who stayed with him, despite the many times he messed up? Despite how ugly he turned out to be?

He shoved that line of thinking aside. Of course he loved her, he would need to be a monster to not. She loved him, and he loved her. End of story. Now was not the time for a late-night crisis.