Short Passages

Regret

In the darkness of his bedroom, the boy weeped. Thick tears clogging his throat, and making it almost impossible to breathe as he wheezed and sobbed into his soft pillow. A never-ending cycle.

Outside, the sky was a cloak of thick grey. The clouds veiled the moon that attempted to spread its silver glow from behind it, casting a pureness to the clouds drifting in front of it. The wind seemed to cry a shrill voice, moaning and muttering as though it, too, mourned. Heavy raindrops battered at the window, misting the surface and running uneven crystal trails down the glass.

Turning over and lying on the small bed with red, swollen eyes, the boy watched in futile as his hazy memory flew past his eyes. Tampering with his brain, and drilling the scenes into his mind. All he could do was whimper and curl into a tight ball in shame, regret a leaden ball that stayed chained to his ankle⏤a presence that glued to him like a constant reminder.

He remembered sitting in the suffocating room they called the principal's office. Feeling the heavy gaze lay on him, almost feeling the weight burdening upon his shoulders as he shrank in the seat and averted his own gaze. The smell of papers wafting below his nose, the presence of his parents seated beside him. Their anger, frustration and vexation radiated off of them like tidal waves, rolling towards him in a blaze of heat. All he could do was squirm in the seat, eyes flickering everywhere but the man one desk away, and the two silently raging parents a little ways beside him. Despite the number of words spilling from the man's mouth like a flowing waterfall, only one word amongst the rest registered in the boy's mind. Its presence in the conversation ringing in his mind, a warning alarm blaring through. He knew it was the apocalypse then, and there was nothing he could do about it. The feeling of a rock plummeting in his stomach appeared, a terrible scream erupted in his mind. The unbearable urge to simply melt into the sombre shadows rather than endure the mist of punishment rapidly approaching was too strong, but he knew that miraculous feat was impossible.

He remembered slowly lumbering down the winding carpeted staircase at the dead of night, throat parched and dry, itching for a drop of moisture. What he found instead, was a lethal drop of venom forever staining his heart, as his footsteps halted to a stop near the bottom. He peered through the narrow gap of the staircase and the wall, just making out the two adults unchanged from their uniforms they had on earlier this afternoon. Their mouths open wide as they breathily shouted in an attempt to seem quieter. His eyes widened as they shoved at each other, gesturing to the computer screen that faced him and displayed a new school. Quickly, he spun and pressed himself against the wall and out of their view. Unable to stop the lone tear from escaping his eye and trekking down his cheek, the first tear followed by a second. And soon, a third, until a new onslaught of tears attacked him and he rushed hurriedly back into his room. Slamming his door shut in frustration, not caring if his parents would notice that he was awake.

He blinked as his vision repaired and he was lying on his bed once more. Tears now nonexistent, and his mind clearer. He sat up and wiped away any tear streaks on his face, his eyes hardening with resolve. It was then, that he realised he had caused this⏤dilemmas for the ones closest to him. Now, he had to do something that had never once crossed his mind before.