Lucas and Aaron
There once was a boy, who used his fists in times of rage- he didn't know how to communicate with people of his age. His parents couldn't understand- they wouldn't even try- and pumped him full of medicine until he'd learned to cry...
Reminder that there is an update before this one <3
This is short but I think it needs to be.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
[...]
Lucas' PoV
[...]
Smash
The chipped plate connects with the floor, spilling shards of broken pottery around it in a scattered circle.
I let out an unconcealed cry of torment, ripping a shaking hand through the knotted hair that clings to my scalp.
My breathing comes out in heavy gasps, my eyes clenched shut in pain as I bite the bruising knuckles pushed into my mouth- trying to calm myself. Tears drip down the trembling skin of my cheeks, wetting my scarred hands even further.
I refuse to give into the want, the need of this addiction.
Even if it kills me, I'll never go back.
Slowly I sink down to the ground, the freezing tiles of the kitchen floor jarring me back into reality. My eyes open, blurry and sore, leaving my itching eyelids weak with distress.
The forbidden stream of tears starts to stop, sinking back as reminders to 'be manly' fill my aching mind.
I breathe heavily, hating the sensation of my lungs straining to keep up.
I pick myself up, brushing away the drops of weakness and drag myself towards the comforts of my bed.
[...]
16th August 2006 Age: 7
A little boy hunches over in his room, bags collecting underneath haunted eyes and tears trailing down marred cheeks.
A singular drawing, or what's left of one it seems, lies crumpled in his hands. Sounds of taunting fill his mind as he surveys his ruined masterpiece.
Footsteps are heard, travelling up the stairs with hurried taps and further intensifying the child's nerves (to such delicate ears, these taps sound like harsh stomps).
"Lucas" A familiar voice calls, causing said boy to swipe at his flowing tears in increasing panic.
The footsteps near closer to his dark oak door, taunting him with promises of fear.
"Lucas", the voice is right next to him now, "why are you crying?"
A calloused hand yanks him up, not violent enough to hurt- yet firm enough to give a clear warning.
"I thought we had a talk about this Lucas, boys don't cry remember? Boys learn to suck it up and be men. You don't want to be known as the little crybaby that draws girly pictures when you get to big school, do you?"
The little boy shakes his head, tangled hair jumping side to side with the motion.
The owner of the voice smiles, not yet knowing the dangers this could cause, and takes the battered drawing out of small hands- putting it into the rubbish bin filled with other abandoned pieces of paper.
The little boy chokes in relief, letting out heaving held breaths, as soon as the adult leaves his small room.
Reaching towards the box of pens he has hidden underneath his blue bed, he draws a small picture on a fresh sheet of paper. Only this time it's not a princess fighting a dragon, nor is it a prince being saved by his friends.
No, this time, he draws the message that he's been taught to obey.
A circle for the head, Two dots for the eyes A hard line for the mouth; Five sticks for the body And three words right next to the prince's head-
"Boys don't cry" the young boy said.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
