Sticks and Stones

A Mothers Arms

I tossed and turned. I even placed my pillow over my head but I couldn't block it out. I gave up and slipped out of bed quietly. I decided to check on Timothy and Sarah. I very covertly slunk out of my door and into the room next to mine then shut the door quietly. I turned and walked over to the bunk bed to see if either are awake. Little Sarah stared back at me from under her covers. Her eyes were glistening with tears. I sighed and scooted in with her and wrapped my arms around her to comfort her as she cried into my chest. The shouting coming from the heated argument from father and mom became louder as he threw something and shatters against the wall causing her to flinch. I covered her ears and hoped that Timothy was still asleep. I heard stomping, the slam of a door, then tires screech as fathers truck pulled off and left. Again. I tucked Sarah in once she's calm and go and hug mom. She's the only parent that cares. I can't stand to see her in pain.

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I stir from the couch to the smell of supper cooking. I glance over to see my mother preparing spaghetti. I attempt to sit up but a jolt of pain runs across my back causing me lay back down releasing a loud groan. Mom appears to my side looking worried.

"Take off your shirt Lucas. Let me see how bad it is this time." She asks in a worried tone.

I struggle to sit up and pull my shirt off. I turn around and reveal my back. I hear a small gasp.

"Is it bad?" I ask wincing as she places a cold rag on my back.

"Just lie down. You don't have to go to school tomorrow. I will think of an excuse to tell your father." She states as she stands.

"Actually.. I got suspended mom. I got into a fight today. They called father. That's why he did it." I struggle to admit. I won't cry I won't cry.

She gives me a sad look.

"Was it one of those hooligans that give you trouble?"

"Yes ma'am." I reply softly.

"Then I understand. I will try to talk to him when he gets home"

I lie down and watch spongebob as she cooks. I begin reaching for the remote to change the channel when I hear squeals of delight behind me.

"SpongeBob!! Leave it Lucas!!" They both say in unison. Timothy and Sarah have apparently finished their nap. I leave it on and watch. SpongeBob really isn't what it used to be I observe.

OOF

I look over to see which twin decided it was a good idea to jump on my stomach.

"Sorry bubba, Sarah pushed me." Little Timothy says while looking at me innocently.

"It's okay." I tell him.

I then grab him before he can get up and tickle him causing an eruption of giggles.

"Bubba stop! I can't breathe!" He says in between breaths.

I release him and he goes to sit on the other couch.

I get up and stiffly walk over to the kitchen and hug mom. She's the only one who can comfort me.

"After you shower you need to let me put some stuff on those open sores so that they don't get infected like last time." She said analyzing my back once more.

I nod in agreement.

"I will take one now." I say as I make my way to my room.

I grab clothes and retreat to the bathroom, locking the door. I make sure it's good and locked before I bend down and move a loose tile behind the toilet away. There I find my refuge. I pull out a razor blade I skillfully removed from a pencil sharpener. I look down at the straight lines on my arms and stomach. It has been a while. I decide I earned a few new ones to keep me sane. I sit and recall all of recent events. The dreams. The flashbacks. I nearly become overwhelmed. I drag the blade across my stomach once. Then twice. Then a third time. I loose count as tears cloud my vision. I loose track of where I am. A knock on the door brings me back. I look down at my arm and stomach and sigh.

"So much for control." I whisper to myself.

I put the razor back and replace the tile and turn on the water.

"I'm getting in the shower." I say towards the door.

"Okay." Came little Sarah's voice back.

She probably has to use the bathroom. I hurry and remove my shorts and boxers then step into the water. I regret it immediately. I am an idiot. I should've waited until after the shower to cut. Now I grit my teeth as I wash myself getting soap in sores. Some from father. Some from myself. I look down in shame at the crimson stained water flowing down the drain. I won't cry I won't cry.