Turns out, he hadn't been eating or sleeping well the past few days. I sat across from his sleeping figure on the couch, laying on the floor and thinking about what to do. I heard a rustling of blankets and sat up. "You alright? You collapsed." I said, and he put his hand up to his hair.
No wonder girls always walked with him, he was a good looking guy. Tall and broad shouldered, with soft brown eyes and messy brown hair to match. He apologized, and I brushed it off. "Also," I said as I stood up and walked over to sit at the end of the couch. "You can stay." I stated, and gave him a warm smile. He started to tear up again and lurched forward, grabbing me in a hug. "Thanks so much, thank you so much."
I picked him off of me and gave him a skeptical look. "I know it's sorta none of my business... But since your staying at my house," I fiddled with my fingers. "What happened?"
✿
"My father hasn't always been right in the head. It's not like he's mentally ill or anything, he's been to a doctor once or twice. It's just that his ideals and way he works is..different from everyone else's." Baley put his hands together and tightened his grip. "After the accident, when I went home, he shouted at me for causing such a big mess and all that." He held his head low. I really felt bad for him. "So I decided to get back at him, just a small thing." He held his hand up to his face, like he was trying that trick in comics to erase one's memories. "I went and got his pack of cigarettes and I was going to light them on fire. Really, it was a dumb idea. I knew he could just have gone and bought more." Baley turned his gaze to match mine, staring at me with eyes that were stricken with pain and sadness. "He found me, and..."
Really, I thought he would have started crying. My aunt Claire says that boys can cry just as much as girls, maybe more, because they've been resenting the urge to all their lives. But the expression that clouded his face was worse than if he had broken down in tears. His eyes were dead and hurting, a silent scream for help in this world that has taken him prisoner. His voice cracked and broke with a heaving cough as he finished.
"He made me smoke each cigarette."
YOU ARE READING
White Crayon
General Fiction"If you ever feel down, or you feel like your worthless, just remember the white crayon. No one can use one. No one needs one." One second children are laughing and the next someone got hurt. It could be someone else's fault, or purely coincidental...
