Care For Me Not, I'll Hurt You Too Much

You woke moments later to find yourself once again curled up against the window sill shivering. Your thoughts must have overpowered you once again and forced you into and uneasy sleep of several minutes. You slept so short a time because a loud noise woke you up just minutes after you had fallen asleep.

There were two boys in the room next door, except the light wasn’t on. You were able to see that there were two of them -one slightly shorter than the other- but you weren’t able to see who they were. The light in the hallway was on, but the room was still very dark. Apparently the two boys had opened the window in the other room so you were able to hear them kicking open the door clearly, seeing as how you were still sleeping in your open window.

“Nice, going Genius. Wake the entire neighborhood why don’t ya?” You hear one of them whisper.

“Sorry.” The other apologizes.

“Just throw it on the floor in the corner for now, I’ll just fix everything later.” The one who spoke earlier said with a yawn.

You hear a soft thump as one of the mattresses that they had been bringing in landed on the floor. From the light from the hallway, you could only see their dark outlines as they rummaged around in the room for a while, they just didn’t bother to turn on the light. You were hoping the entire time that they didn’t look out the window and see you staring at them, or that they just turn on the light so that you could see what they look like, to prove your previous fears incorrect.

Your hope is crushed once again as they leave the room quickly without another word or without the light in the room coming on once. You sigh and rub your face, attempting to clear your head for as much as you could to be able to get into bed.

The light comes on again.

You look back and are surprised to see a rather young looking boy looking around the room, judging it. His face is taking on the first sign of blemishes and his pointy nose seems to be something that he will eventually have to grow into. The large glasses resting on the very edge of his nose are no aid to the fact that he hasn’t really grown as much as he should yet. His hair is a light-ish brown color that is trimmed above his ears. His face catches you off guard and you find yourself gasping at the sight. He seemed so familiar.

You could swear that you have seen that face somewhere before, but you don’t know when or where. You stared at him as he place the three labeled boxes down against the wall. He looks briefly into one of the smaller ones and pulls out a small spiral notebook, now sitting cross-legged on the floor, flipping through the pages.

You tried to rack your brain for as much as you could to just remember where you had seen those eyes, that face, that form somewhere before. It came up with a hissing blank. He seemed so familiar to you, but you had to admit defeat and tell yourself repeatedly that you had never even met this boy. He seemed to be too young anyway. He was probably around fourteen or fifteen anyway. No one you know is fifteen. You hardly know anyone.

You watched slightly in awe before you pulled back into your room for more shadow cover. You keep glancing back and forth between the boy and your floor, imagining him to be the nightmare-ish person you had dreamt up earlier.

Your mind wanders aimlessly as you watch him flipping through random notebooks that he keeps on pulling out of the box on the floor. He seemed so familiar. His eyes -even though you could barely see them and he was so far away- seemed to scream at you like you have seen them somewhere before. Just the shape of them seemed familiar, you don’t know if the color was the same, but the same almond shape was identical with the practically featureless face that you were comparing them with.

You searched his face. That boyish roundness was slowly disappearing, making his rounded chin more prominent and older. His frame was thin and he seemed to be growing taller faster than the rest of him could catch up. He seemed like a walking stick, but he seemed to have a nice face that was kind, even though his stony expression never faded. You were wondering what he would look like when he grew older, when that hard face faded away into something more joyful.

You laughed to yourself lightly as a thought popped into your head. He’ll have the ladies falling at his feet.

Even though you didn’t know this boy -who seemed to be your new neighbor- you looked upon him like a little brother. You just wished that you were able to know his name.

A muffled yell comes from downstairs that barely makes its way through the window. His head snaps around quickly as he leans back.

“Coming!” he says in a slightly puberty caked voice.

You smile once again to yourself as he shoves the notebook back into the box and stands up with surprising grace, considering his lankiness. He must have gotten used to it. He walks quickly out the room, turning the light off as he left.

You don’t know why you didn’t just lay down then, it was nearly midnight by now. Instead your head peeked out the window slightly. You saw two of the six boys holding up one of the couches and one end was teetering violently from side to side. Then you saw the young boy you had been watching earlier practically fly off the porch and steady the couch. They say something to each other then, but you’re too high up to hear exactly what. Whatever it was, it was apparently funny and they all carried the large piece of furniture into the house laughing.

You actually considered then, going downstairs and going next door. You actually considered offering them help and claiming to be their new neighbor. You saw yourself, in completely different clothing, with a different hair style. You became something that fitted in with today’s society, you became someone. You wondered what they would do. What would they really do to you if you went over there and offered them help dressed and beaten like you are now? They’d stare at you, watch you to make sure you didn’t steal anything, then they’d play ‘Nice Neighbors’ and be as fake as they could with you. They’d put up their walls; cover their faces with their masks. They’d shut you out or with a large possibility, they’d turn you away. They’d see your scars, they’d see your tattered clothing and hair, then they’d shut their door in your face.

You spared them the trouble, and you spared yourself the physical embarrassment. Instead you closed your window quickly and laid down in your now dark room. Turning on your side with difficulty to ease the tension put on your wounded arm, you close your eyes after staring at the wall and listening to the silence of the house, and the muffled family movement outside.

Who would ever want you?