Skies Do Fall

“And what do you want this time? To put a dent in my mom’s car?”

The gangly boy grinned at my response. “Sure, I’ll bite. Let me just go get my baseball bat and then we can party like its 1999.”

I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms, my resenting attitude clearly reflecting that he was not wanted here. “Are you here to make peace or something? I have things to see and people to do, so make it quick, skipper.”

The boy sighed, brushing the uncooperative brunette bangs out of his sight, before looking back up at me with wide, chocolate puppy eyes. “Look, I’m sorry for breaking your window. It was an accident and I, in no way, did it intentionally. Honestly, I have to know you to get to hate you enough to break your window.”

I knew I couldn’t hate the kid that much. Even in my old state, I never could hold a grudge for more than a day or so. It definitely wasn’t going to go unforgotten that the kid fucking broke my goddamn window, but I think I was going to forgive him. Just to relieve those huge, sad eyes absorbing my face. At this point, I had bigger, huger, GINORMOUS fish to fry rather than this pathetic lad standing before me, begging for forgiveness as if his sad, little life was revolving around my answer.

I opened my mouth, the boy’s pupils dilating to cover up a forth of the deep brown, and just when the words were formed on the tip of my tongue, there was a deafening boom that sent a shiver of rage to ring across my vertebra.

It was the sound of something expensive breaking.

My eyes fluttered closed as soon as the collapsing noise was heard and I reached up to pinch the edge of my nose in frustration, half praying that my ears had deceived me and the sound had really erupted from across the street. But, of course, my dreams were shattered when I peeked open my left eye to see the crime.

Our bench, the fucking bench my worthless father had created for us so long ago it was blurry in my mind, was now scattered in bits-and-pieces across the front porch. The boy stood astounded, mouth hanging open, wide eyes even wider and frantically searching around for the source while his hands were spread out before him in a guilty fashion that made common sense laugh at the sight.

I sealed my eyes tightly closed again before feebly asking, “Was that you?”

I could hear the boy shuffling around and after minutes of silence there was a barely audible, “Y-yes.”

I took in gulps of oxygen to douse the furious flames of anger tempted to burst from me, and then slowly peeled my eyes back open.

But my temper unfortunately skyrocketed at just the sight of the frightened skinny boy and, before I could register it, I was lashing out at him.

My hands were flailing with gestures as I screamed, “GODAMMIT! WHY THE FUCK DO YOU WANT TO MAKE MY LIFE A LIVING HELL?! WHAT THE HELL DID I DO TO YOU?! JUST GET OUT! GET THE HELL OFF MY PORCH RIGHT THE FUCK NOW! OFF!!!” I pointed to the direction of his house, my eyes popping out of their sockets in fury, my teeth clenched to hold back my beating tongue still yearning to create intimidating threats.

The boy’s eyes were wider than ever, his eerily light skin paling even more to morph into a ghostly white. He stared at me with horror, made some sort of frightened whimper, before scampering right out of my sight in a cowardly rush.

My hands were pressed so tightly shut that my fingertips had imprinted half-shaped ovals into my palms, and I pointedly gazed at the spot the boy had been standing seconds before. Finally, after observing the undoubting scene a million times over, I groaned and began to pick up the wooden pieces one by one, ignoring the sense of déjà vu settling in the corners of my mind.

That consideration of forgiveness had totally evaporated to be replaced with more anger, more stress to add on top of the dirty secret I was bearing with me at all times.

That boy was now on my Top Ten List of People I Hate, charting on number 2 right under my unfaithful, scum of the fucking Earth of a father.