Ending Innocence (boyxboy)

Chapter One

“We can easily forgive a child who is afraid of the dark; the real tragedy of life is when men are afraid of the light.” 
― Plato

 Luca’s POV.

Innocence is one of the great mysteries of life. Children, who have it, don’t want it, and do their best to lose it. Adults, who lost it along the way, would kill to get theirs back. No one knows why it’s like that, but that’s just life. We live and then we die. Some of us suffer, and others lead comfortable and fulfilling lives. I am not innocent nor do I have a nice, easy life, to be honest I don’t think ‘innocent’ was ever an accurate description of me.

Describing me as innocent is like describing a cold blooded killer as pure, or saying that a child molester has a good soul. I don’t see myself the way my family do. They say I’m a good, beautiful person. But all I see is the darkness. All I see is the evil inside me, the sick person I really am.

I stand in front of my bedroom mirror and look at myself. There nothing there, though. I see nothing but a shell. A body given to me so I can live. I hide everything in this shell. My silky black hair hides everything I don’t want people to see. Down to my shoulders, it’s long enough to hide my eyes. Those are dead of course, dark brown and dead. I don’t see anything in front of me that worth the waste of oxygen. My mutilated soul died long ago.

I can hear birds outside my bedroom window. They sing a morning song no different from the birds back in Texas. Texas, the place I come from, the place I have escaped. New York birds should sound different, shouldn’t they? Instead I hear and see everything as the same. Nothing new or enticing, it’s all dark. The morning sun shines through my semi-open blinds. Mamma will be happy though. She loves the birds; she loves everything that has a beauty to it.

I hear a knock on my bedroom door and I turn to see mamma standing there. She looks tired. My dear mamma, the beautiful woman who gave me life and loves me, stands there like a shell of her former self. We stand there unspeaking for a moment. I ache to hug her, to make her smile like she used to. The smile that always light up her face has been replaced by concern and worry. Worry is something our family has a lot of, all our worries come back to me.

Her black hair has no trace of grey. Her olive skin and dark brown eyes are full of love, the once full of life eyes now look dull even with love there. She’s small. Her entire body fits into clothes made for children and she’s very thin. For forty ones years of age she looks very good. Not a wrinkle in sight. She looks like she’s had a tough life though. With dark circles under her eyes and the concern and worry that shows on her face every day.

“Luca, will you come down and eat something?” She asks. “I’ll make your favourite breakfast and we can have chocolate spread with it.”

“I’m not hungry mamma, why don’t you go down and I’ll join you in a few minutes. I just want to finish getting ready.” I tell her. Her face crumples like she’s about to cry, but after a brisk nod she walks back out the door. Sighing I turn back and adjust my clothes. The dark sweatshirt and jeans clings to my skin. My wrist bands hide the truth while fitting in with my clothes and appearance.

I open my bedroom window and stick my head outside. The fresh air assaults my lungs and I breathe it all in. Our new house is situated in a suburban area. New York is a lot different from Texas, the air is different, and the houses are different. Although, I doubt the people are different, everywhere people are the same at the end of it all. Living on a street full of people feels strange. In Texas we had no neighbours and now we have over three hundred families nearby.

I wander into my bathroom and brush my teeth. I never feel clean. My olive skin looks almost perfect to the naked eye. But that scar. The one on my face to catch people’s attention is there. The hideous mutilated skin runs right down my face, from my eye socket to my chin and down my neck. It cannot be hidden, especially with the red raw skin around it. Most people see a burn, I see torture and pain. I see the need for more pain. I look almost like a pirate, the scar is so vivid on my skin and most people don’t have them like that.