Living with a Heartache

Alex’s POV

I was up and about by 5, thank god I wasn’t out for a week because I would have homework to do. Instead, I loitered around the house, humming tunelessly to myself while I studied the intricate details of everything that entered my sight.

“Maybe it’s not my weekend, but it’s gonna be my year~” I half sang half muttered to myself. I bent down to study the patterns on the couch in the living room. The stitches crissed-crossed each other, forming a slight breakdown of colours as the threads travelled slowly down the main body of the couch.

“I wanna feel reckless, I wanna live it up just because~” I hummed while wandering around the dimly lit house. The sunlight peeked through the windows, casting pretty yellow slaps of light onto the wooden mahogany floor.

Time seemed to slip by, pretty soon half an hour had passed with me just singing and looking at things. I liked to do that when I wanted to be alone. Think a little; let my mind wander off by itself.

Patrick’s POV

I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t bring myself to hate Alex. I just sat on the roof outside my room for 2 straight hours thinking of how to hate Alex. I couldn’t, in fact, I think I loved her even more. Things happen when you let your mind waver around unnecessary thoughts. But I couldn’t love her, she would get hurt.

He said he would get his friend’s down at the bar to hurt her. I’d seen his friends before, they were all men with huge hands and huge bellies. I knew my dad preyed on women as much as they did- and I couldn’t just let Alex suffer because of me being selfish. I stared down at my scarred hands, they were marked with faint white scars which had healed and covered up as time slipped by. Then I made a harsh decision so fast that I hadn’t had time to get over the emotional terrors before I bounded off the roof onto my high porch and brisk walked to Alex’s house.

I re-thought of my plan- well movement, as I walked to Alex’s house. I didn’t know why this wouldn’t wait, I couldn’t stand my best friend being hurt, yet I couldn’t stand hurting her myself. I wanted to make up with her; I’d just have to lie to my father. I’d do anything to keep his perverted and cheap hands off Alex.

I got there earlier than I thought. It was all so familiar, the sunny-coloured porch which stood out everyday. The small stairs that lead up to the porch, with white fences that surrounded and enclosed the porch like a protective barrier. The huge lounging chair living on the porch with the metallic table made out of twisted metal. The door which had that crusted piece of crystal acting as a window or a porch to perch their Christmas decorations. I shoved my hands into my pockets, looked at the ground and wished that when I opened the door the earth would open up and I would drop inside.

Now or never, just do it.

I knocked on the door and stared at the floor, making my eyes swirl with the patterns on the wood. No one replied, so I knocked louder, without lifting my eyes up from the floor. Suddenly, the door flung open and I could hear Alex’s faint humming following the wind as it hit my ears like any familiar tune I’ve heard on radio.

“HIIIIIII-“ Alex froze in position as she saw that it was me.
“Hey Alex,” I greeted. There was a lump in my throat as I said it, my heart started pounding really hard and there was that weird sensation which centralized in my chest.

“Do. Do you think we could talk?” I asked, not sure of what to say.

She said nothing. She was searching my eyes for something, I wasn’t sure what it was. She sighed and looked at me after staring momentarily at her bare feet.

“Patrick, I-“ I got the hint, but I didn’t leave just yet. I’m sure she could see the disappointment which melted in my eyes.
“Sure, why not,” she shrugged at lead us to her porch steps.

Alex’s POV

We sat in silence. Nothing, there wasn’t that comfortable silence we once had. It was just solely silence. I stared at Patrick’s hands which were at the back of him as he laid on his hands while staring at the sky. I was used to his scars, but just because I was used to it doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt whenever I touched them. I was even there when I saw his father, what that cruel monster did to his son.

I was 13, we were watching re-runs of ‘Charmed’ on that old rickety television in his room. All of a sudden his father could be heard shouting at him while halfway up the stairs. Patrick told me to hide behind his cupboard, and I did. His dad staggered into his room, clearly drunk and started hurling abuses at Patrick. I could remember, every single word he said.

“What are you doing on the fucking floor? You think you can just lie here like some worthless bastard just because your mum left?”

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, not wanting me to hear any of this.

“Don’t you fucking give me that shit look you have now on your face. You’re just like your bitch of a mother. Never appreciating what I’ve done for you, you’re just going to leave me just like that bloody worthless slut,” I still remembered, Patrick’s eyes flashed with anger I’ve never seen before, as he snapped his neck towards his father.

“Don’t you talk about her like that, DON’T YOU TALK ABOUT MY MOTHER LIKE THAT,” he screamed. His father was enraged, he picked up a piece of art work that Patrick and I had done when we were 11. It was a sand-in-a-bottle creation. It had a kaleidoscope of colours behind the see through material. It was beautiful, too bad Patrick’s dad smashed it against Patrick. Patrick raised his hands to cover his face as his father rained him with incessant beatings with the bottle. I watched in horror as the perfect glass bottle was reduced to nothing but an ugly stump of broken glass, glass and sand everything.
By the time Patrick’s dad was done, Patrick’s hands were bloody and big drops of blood was flowing down his hands, encircling his wrists like a red bracelet. He then threw the stump of glass at Patrick, who averted his eyes as his father stomped off.

I hastily clambered out of the cupboard and joined Patrick as he sat on his bed dejectedly. He didn’t cry, he never did cry in front of me. I’d taken a 2 hour course on first aid before, so I washed his wounds with a small cup of water and some cotton pieces in his toilet. He didn’t wince from the pain, he just looked at his hands the whole time. Then I helped him bandage his wounds. All he said to me that time was “Are you all right?”

I whisked back to reality, absentmindedly I reached out for Patrick’s left hand. I put his hand in mine, tracing my finger on the scars of his hand. He seemed taken aback for a moment there, but he left his hand on mine as he shifted nearer to me. He looked to the distance and then back at our hands.

“Remember what happened back then? Remember what I said?” He murmured to me.

“Yeah, you asked me if I was alright even though you were bleeding pretty badly,” I whispered.

“Do you know why?” He asked me, I looked up at him- his perfect blue eyes which shone through me like they could see through my soul. I didn’t know what he meant by why he said that to me, so I kept silent, waiting for the answer.

“Because,” he said, “I was worried that my dad had hurt you when he broke the glass, I didn’t feel the pain in my hands. I never wanted you to get hurt after the day when you scarred your hands in my garden,” I swallowed hard. My eyes darted my arm where the pale single scar lived permanently there. I had one single scar which pained Patrick so much, but he had so many.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, staring up at him. Tears matting my eyes, I never cried. I didn’t know why. I felt that I was losing Patrick even though we were sitting so close we could feel each other’s warmth. He looked down at me with his soulful eyes and smiled sadly at me.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t stop your dad for hurting you. I’m a terrible friend, why’d you stay around so long?” I continued. He sighed and placed a cool hand on the side of my head and put my head on his shoulder.

“You’re still as stupid. Alex, I only stayed around because you were my friend,” he answered. I managed a tiny smile, and smelt Patrick’s shirt which made me feel comfortable and at home.

“You’re so corny Patrick. Oh yeah, I’ve been wondering, what actually happened during that day. When you attempted to break up with me,” I said. I felt Patrick tense, and he moved his hand away from mine. Startled by his reactions, I got my head off his shoulder and stared at him. His eyes darted around uncertainly, as if searching for the right words to tell me. I searched his face for some kind of clue, but all I got was the vibe that he wanted to tell me something really bad.

After what seemed like forever, Patrick took a deep breath and told me something that shook my bones.

“Alex, I’m afraid that my dad’s gonna hurt you.”

I was so shocked that all I could do was to stare at Patrick’s face as the shock set in and my stomach acid made me feel sick.

“What?!” I shouted right in his face. Patrick looked worried as he glared at the ground.

“That night, before I shouted at you in school, my dad told me if I didn’t give him all my money to do who knows what, he would get his friends at the bar to hurt you. You know how his friends are like, terrible wankers. I mean, you know how much I need the money to get to college to buy myself a new home away from that thing back home. I said no, and I’m just afraid that something bad will happen to you,” he explained, looking at the ground still. He choked on the last few words before stopping.

I gulped. But before I had a chance to continue, he cut me in.

“That’s why I tried to break up with you that day. I figured, if I could bring myself to hate you and show everyone how I hated you including my Dad, he would think hurting you would mean nothing to me. And that you wouldn’t get hurt at all. I didn’t mean what I said, I mean he did break my Bass-“

“He broke you bass? Oh god,” my voice came out rasped. I didn’t know what to say. My heart bounded ferociously inside me, my head felt wrong like I had just had a huge migraine. I covered my face with my hands, and whimpered. I was afraid, not about me. I was afraid for Patrick, his father would kill him if he felt like it, and he was here worried about what would happen to me.

“Alex, I-I’m sorry, I just don’t know what to do,” he whispered to me.

“Oh Patrick,” was all I said before I wrapped my hands around him and gave him a hug. Tears streamed down my face for no apparent reason and I heard myself sniff.

Patrick kept silent, as he put his hand on my head and stroked on the small of my back. Then he started humming our buddy tune. It was ‘Anytime You Need a Friend’ from the Home on the Range cartoon. I didn’t stop crying, I was so worried for Patrick, and here he was singing to me.

Halfway through his singing, I heard him stop abruptly. And he took in a shaky and hasty breath.

“No,” he whispered. I heard shouting coming closer and closer. Before soon I heard a clear and distinct rough voice ring through the air.

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING SON? YOU GET YOUR SMALL ASS RIGHT OVER HERE, RIGHT NOW,”

Patrick pushed me away violently and held me by my shoulders. He shook me out of my daze.

“Get the hell into the house Alex, go!” He hollered and shoved me inside.

Brian’s POV

I heard shouting from where I was sitting. It sounded near, and so suspicious. Before I could hurry downstairs to see what it was all about, Alex burst into the room, her eyes seeping wet with tears.

“Alex. Wh-“

“CALL THE POLICE BRIAN!” she whispered roughly at me before rushing to the window to see what was happening outside. Stunned, a loud sound was heard before I knew what was happening I heard shouting.

“DON’T YOU TOUCH HER DAD!”

“I THOUGHT YOU DIDN’T CARE ABOUT HER ANYMORE, I KNEW YOU COULDN’T DO IT YOU WUSS OF A BASTARD!”

I hastily dialed for the police and told them about a fight happening at Alex’s house.

Then I rushed to the window to see what the commotion about. I saw that this madman was hurling a colourful array of vulgarities at a slim figure who was writhing on the floor in pain. The abuses raged on, the madman kicked at the writhing figure who’s right arm was bleeding. Something about that small person seemed oddly familiar. Suddenly it hit me, that person out there who had floppy brown hair, and was as lanky as he was tall was Patrick.

I turned my eyes to watch Alex as she cowered on the floor, her hands over her face. She wasn’t crying, just trembling.

“Brian, is… is he hurt?” she whispered. I turned to watch the horrible scene as it unfolded before me. Patrick was bleeding from his arm which looked as if it had been dragged over a rough floor so many times that it looked raw and sick. He was struggling to get up as that madman raged on. He looked around and spotted an empty metal water can lying on the ground. He picked it up mercilessly and brought it down on Patrick’s head repeatedly. There were horrible cries of pain, and I couldn’t take it anymore. I barged out of the house.

I vaguely heard Alex shout my name, but I couldn’t just leave a friend and watch him get tortured by this weird dude. As he brought the watering can up again, I ran out and thrust it out of his hand.

“Dammit! Who the fuck are you? This is my damned son and you have no business coming here you son of a bitch!” He shouted at me.

Wait, did he just say his son? I guess I froze there long enough for him to swing his right arm onto my face.

Patrick’s POV

The pain was unbearable. My lip was throbbing and I could taste the metal taste of my blood as it leaked into my mouth. There was a deep gash in my forehead as the blood trickled down my face and blotted out my eyes. But I could make out the faint outlines of another person as he blocked out my father’s hand.

“Brian?” I spluttered, my lips ached as I spoke but I didn’t care. Dad just punched him in the face. I could faintly hear the sound of police sirens coming. Brian was off the floor in a flash as he tried to block off Dad’s crazy waves at him. I blindly thrashed around until I felt someone’s legs above me. It felt like Dad’s hard shoes, so I just shut my eyes and clung on for my dear life.

He struggled and cursed colourfully, how that man got his vocab I could never know. His shoe struck my face a few times and it hurt like a bitch. But I held on and tried my best to fling him off his feet. I barely heard the soft padding of another pair of feet as someone dashed out of the house again.

Alex, my mind whirred. I wanted to put my hands around her and stop her, but I couldn’t. Brian had my dad’s front covered, and I had my dad’s bottom covered so the common sense for her was to jump onto his back.

And she did that, I assumed she bit down really hard because my father let out a blood curling scream as he stopped thrashing around. He was working hard to get Alex off his back.

“ARRGH GET OFF ME YOU BITCH!”

I heard a loud thump on the floor next to mine, and it was followed by a sharp gasp of pain.

“Alex?” I whispered, I could make out her dark hair sprawled all around the floor.

“I’LL KILL YOU!” came a furious roar as Dad grabbed on to someone and shook him hard. There was a choking sound, which meant he was most likely choking Brian. Suddenly, there was a loud sound in the distance.

“PUT YOUR HANDS UP. PUT YOUR HANDS UP THIS INSTANCE,” I relaxed, the police had come before I completely blanked out.

Brian’s POV

He was choking me, and I couldn’t breathe. My lungs were burning and I was fighting for air. Suddenly, I was dropped to the floor and there was a stampede of feet and I saw that the police had arrived and was wrestling Patrick’s Dad off me.

I coughed and sucked in mouthfuls of air which burned my throat as they entered my lungs. I looked around, Patrick was out cold, and was being lifted up by the paramedics who had arrived with the ambulance.

My thoughts fleeted over to Alex whom was hurled to the ground by Patrick’s Dad. She was crawling towards me, her forehead shiny with sheens of sweat.

“Brian, shit. Your eye looks like a tennis ball,” she panted.

“Yeah, so does your ankle,” I commented. I noticed now that my left eye was throbbing and it hurt like hell. She grunted in agreement as a paramedic helped her off the ground. Then I was helped out at the same time and I noticed how Alex’s face crumpled in fear when she saw Patrick lying on the stretcher.

“What exactly happened young man?” queried a police officer as a paramedic treated to my injury. I explained everything to him, everything poured out since I was scared I’d get sent to jail or something. I heard shouting as the policemen held Patrick’s dad down.

“THOSE NOSY ASSHOLES. I WAS JUST TEACHING MY SON A LESSON. THAT GOOD FOR NOTHING PIECE OF SHIT!” he hollered at a collected policeman who looked at him in disgust. Then, they forced him into the police car and the flashing lights disappeared into the distance.

Then, we were driven to the hospital in a separate ambulance as Patrick.

Alex hands were drawn into tight circles as she sat next to me in the moving vehicle. She looked exhausted, after just recovering from her sickness. Her eyes drooped on the way to the hospital and she fell asleep in the tense atmosphere. Before I knew it, her head had fallen onto my shoulder as she dozed off.

I saw a little smile on the paramedic’s face as he looked at us. I gave him a weird look and he mistook the look for a ‘tell-me-why-you’re-looking-at-me-look’.

“Sorry to ask, but are you two in love?”
I don’t know about her, but I think I am.