Tears or Heartbreak

Chapter 2:Home

Christopher stared at the lake  with a frown. He wished he could kick the water's ass but he knew that was the dumbest thing ever. So he had to bundle up his frustrations and keep them there.

It wasn't fair. He was only twelve, now who's going to guide him. Who was going to show him just what it is to be a man.

Everyone else had a dad and now his was gone. The funeral had ended a few hours ago, and he couldn't bear to go home. He couldn't take seeing his mother so sad and his brother seeming completely unaffected. This day changed his life forever. With everyone else distancing themselves from each other he felt completely alone.

Christopher looked at the water grudgingly. His fingers curled tightly into a fist and he rose to his feet. He couldn't take it anymore, with an angry cry Christopher dashed into the water. He kicked it, punched it, threw it, and he sank to his knees.

"Christopher?" A small voice called to him from behind.

Christopher turned around to see a pair of big beautiful grey eyes watching him. He wiped his watery eyes and turned away from her. The last thing he wanted her to see was him acting like a baby. "Go away, Lia." He mumbled.

There was a death silence behind him. Christopher let his head hang low and he let out a shakey sigh when he thought he was alone once again. "No."

He heard water splashing and he turned around, "Lia, I said-"

He was cut off by Lia wrapping her arms around his waist and laying her head against his chest. "I know it hurts," She said,  "but I am not going to let you push me away. I have to let you know, you're not alone." Her voice cracked with falling  tears.

Christopher wrapped his arms tight around her. "You're my best friend, I'll always be here for you." Lia whispered.

They stood there in the water holding on to each other. Christopher held on to her while soft tears poured down his cheek.
***
Christopher

I wasn't able to sleep after last night so I stood out on the balcony of my apartment watching the sunrise with a cigarette burning  between my lips. I had taken up smoking in eleventh grade, I had to find a new way to relieve stress. I probably shouldn't be smoking and taking pain pills at the same time, but it's too late now. I hope that my cut heals soon, I can't get my money if I lose a fight.

I refuse to get killed or beat to a bloody pulp because of some jackass that likes to pull out a knife in a fist fight. A month should be good besides I'll be out of town if anyone comes looking for me. I went back inside and showered before climbing out and brushed my teeth. I examined my face in the mirror, my black eye was lightening and the cut on my jawline was scabbing over. That guy got me good.

The truth is he didn't come at me first at least not verbally. He was a street fighter who I had beat recently and I felt like messing with him. I thought it would be funny to ask him how his eye was doing after I had blacked it three weeks ago. Now I know karma's a bitch.

I scoffed at myself in the mirror before painfully throwing on a sleeveless hoodie and some cargo shorts. My phone rang from my bedroom and i hurried to answer it. Jogging to the room I grabbed my phone, sat down at the edge of the bed and answered it.

"Hey, bro. Wassup?" I said.

"Hey, I'm on my way have your shit ready." Brandon said from the other end.

I felt the sheets move slightly and I quickly looked back before returning my attention to the call, "I'm ready."

"Okay,  and Mom said there's a gathering tonight so wear something nice." I felt fingers run under my shirt feeling against my abdomen.