How Can I Keep Walking?

Glaring Silence

"You can recognize survivors of abuse by their courage. When silence is so very inviting, they step forward and share their truth so others know they aren't alone."

And so suddenly, the world which seemed to filling itself up with air, was so suddenly popped by an uninvitimg needle known as reality. Allen knew who couldn't stay in Lavi's house forever and he wasn't about to bring Lavi into that house, let alone Lenalee. Of course, he didn't think Cross would go so far as to hurt someone who could easily bring charges up on him, he just wasn't crazy about the idea of letting the perverbial cat, out of the bag.
So when Sunday evening came, Allen knew it was high time to come home, to face Cross and whatever evil was in store for him but for some reason, he didn't have a bad feeling about going home, which was the strangest thing that had, had happened to him in awhile.
Allen got up and crossed the cold tile that lined Lavi's kitchen to his front door, his pale white feet seeming to blend right in with the cool, marble tile underneath. Lavi seemed restless and more reluctant than usual to let him go home but Allen pretended not to notice- he couldn't stay, even if he wanted to.
Allen slipped his shoes on, throwing on his winter coat and smiled at Lavi. "I'll see you at school tomorrow, okay Lavi?" Allen said with a soft smile on his face, as if he were trying to lull Lavi into a false sense of security, much like he caught himself doing from time to time.
"Okay, but you know you can call me whenever. Right?" Lavi said with a cheerful tone but it held thinly veiled worry beneath it. Allen nodded in response and gave his boyfriend a soft kiss before making his way out into the frigid, December cold. He enjoyed the way the air seemed to fill his lungs easier on the winter than in the summer, mainly because it was easier to regain his breath during a panic attack then it was during the seemingly oxygenless summer. Allen walked home slowly, allowing his feet to drag over the pavement to kick pebbles, observing people as they walked by and listening to their conversations with his head down. Allen felt at peace this way, if you take away the cold that seemingly bit at his pale face, making it a flushed red as his body fought to warm itself.
Either way, delaying the inevitable was probably the wrong decision, but it was a lot better than charging into his house at full speed; that was practically asking for a beating..
As he neared his small home: Can you even call it a home? Allen asked himself as he paused for a moment to mull over the question he had posed to himself. From what I've seen, homes can be a place of peace, families fight but they usually always forgive each other.. so if that' s what having a family meant, Allen didn't have one. Though it was no question he had no family, he had come to the sudden realization that he didn't have a home either.
Allen picked up his feet as he began to walk again, shaking off the bitter loneliness that had weld up in his chest suddenly. "You can't miss what you never had." Allen said to himself aloud, as if to clear his head as he silently walked up the old, cement steps that held this.. house. He extracted his key from his pocket, unlocking the door and he walked in silently, his head down to brace for what was certainly to come.
. . . . .
But nothing came. There was no sound, not the sound of the boots that he so hated crossing the floor, not the voice that made his skin crawl, not even the snoring that he thanked god for every night. It was silent in the small house. Allen raised his eyes to find the place a wreck, as if it had been ransacked and it was quiet. Not getting his hopes up, he silently walked into the kitchen and started to make a check list.
"No Cross in the kitchen," he thought to himself "or in the living room." He silently bounded up the stairs, still making no noise so as not to waste the figurative beast he lived in fear of every waking moment of his life. He opened his door with ease and it had been trashed, though he had nothing of value, only clothes. He made his way down the hall and checked the bathroom and bedroom in which Cross spent most of his time drinking or smoking. "Holy shit." Allen thought to himself and suddenly, he felt his cheeks become wet and he soon came to realize that he was crying.
Allen collapsed onto the floor and let sobs rack his body that he welcomed. These were tears of relief, tears that felt so much better than tears of disgust or pain. Cross wasn't there, and even if it was only for a day, it was a day he could let himself relax, where he didn't have to be afraid when the next attack would come. Allen would be able to shower and go to school in the morning with no problem.
After he had cried to his hearts content, he decided to get in the shower and wash off his worries and to clear his head.
After he showered he crawled into his little pile of blankets and for the first time in.. too long, Allen was able to fall asleep with no problem, sleep carrying him away to state of comfortable bliss, fortunately.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
Allen wasn't sure what it was, but something set warning bells off in his head in the middle of the night causing himself to wake from his sleep rather violently. Allen opened his eyes and above him, a dark, brooding figure seemed to loom over him, something poised in one hand and Allen knew this Silhouette all to well, it had been engraved into his memories for all the wromg reasons.
Allen was too scared to move, his fragile body starting to shake under the blankets when suddenly something connected with his cheek, causing pain to spread through his whole face before darkness consumed him once again.

--- authors note ---

Holy fucking hell. Merry Christmas and a happy fucking New Years; it's been too long GOOD GOD. Does anyone even still read this? Wtf. I hope you all liked it man.