Never Hate

Terran sat quietly on the edge of his bed, still sore from the beating he had endured. His clothes were dirty and even though any deep injuries had been healed he still had black and blue bruises all over his body. 

“I just can’t get a break!” I huffed in annoyance. Although the pain had faded it still hurt like hell! My cheeks puffed up like balloons almost completely by instinct. 

I sighed and hobbled up from the bed towards the reflective magic mirror. Slowly, I lifted my white top and looked at the large bruise splotched across my ribs. God, it looked absolutely ghastly. “Kikra!” I swore under my breath and clicked my tongue.

Lowering my shirt, I stared at my face. The face of a boy about the age of eight stared back at me, my stupid amber eyes blinking. Ugly dark green hair that was only a few shades above black hung limply on my back. Ugly. Ugly. Ugly.

Tsking, I checked my face futilely. Of course they didn’t leave any bruises there, those b******s. I quickly looked away from my reflection, after all why should I study something I see everyday. A knock suddenly echoed. 

“Terri, are you doing okay?”

A worried voice came from outside the door. It was mom. I scampered over quickly and opened the door. My mom’s worried eyes quickly appeared in front of my face. Her beautiful, slick brown hair fell down her back, all the way to her calves: showing her to be a respectable middle aged elf. Her deep green eyes peered at me sadly as she reached out her hand towards my head.

“I heard about what Arlo did,” She sighed heavily as she looked down at me, “I know it hurts,” she said as she softly ran her fingers through my hair, “But remember, the reason people hurt others is because they’ve been hurt.”

I grit my teeth harder and harder as she spoke. Mom must’ve seen my actions as she stared at me for a moment before giving me a hug.

“Please don’t hate Arlo. Everybody’s going through something and hating somebody will never make the pain go away,  returning hate with more hate...” She thought for a moment, “ Doesn’t end well.” She stared me dead in the eyes while speaking, and suddenly I felt guilty. Maybe a part of me did hate Arlo. Was I letting my mom down? Was I letting the world down by allowing myself to feel this terrible emotion?

I took a deep breath before speaking, “I… I won’t let myself hate him.”

‘I didn’t want to hurt anyone, ever.’

“Good boy.” She said, patting my head as she gave one of her signature mom smiles. A smile so bright and beautiful that you almost instinctively wanted to shield your eyes.

She gave me a big hug before leaving the room. I walked back over to the mirror and stared at my reflection before speaking, “Just a little bit longer, I just have to wait a little longer and I’ll be able to protect myself.”

“What’ll I get for my spirit, I wonder?” I said to myself.

“A Pawder with its spiked tail would be nice, or maybe a Towla, after all it’s so big and agile, it could totally protect me!”

I couldn’t wait to awaken my magic and finally get my spirit beast, my other half. It’d be big, and powerful and be able to wipe the floor with any guy who wants to bully me! No wait, I can’t use violence, so I guess it’ll just protect me from the bad guys. After all, bad guys have people who love them too!

Running around my room pretending to be a panther like Towler was fun but after about five minutes I got tired. I jumped head first onto my bed and rubbed my head against my pillow. The soft and comforting feeling lulled me into sleep as I thought about what spirit I would get for my awakening.

‘Of course, fate was a cruel thing, but that was a lesson I had yet to learn.’

Later that day

I heard big footsteps rushing towards my room. Suddenly, a large crash echoed. I hid my head behind my arm before looking up. In front of me stood the big oaf called my father. He must’ve forgotten to control his strength as the door handle had left a good dent in the wall when he’d barrelled through it. My father was staring at it- speechlessly embarrassed. He must’ve just gotten home as he hadn’t even changed out of his smithing clothes which were stained black with soot with several large patches missing in different places.

He looked at me anxiously as he carefully pulled the door away to assess the damage. After seeing just how bad it was he stared at me before bowing his head. I sighed at his awkward apology before starting to chuckle. His ears turned bright red as he stared at me before his face went back to its original stone like nature- he was embarrassed. I remembered the one time I had asked my mom why she had fallen in love with dad, her response, ‘He’s just too damn adorable!’ I definitely agree.

I got up from my bed before running to him, giving him a big hug. My dad was the best dad.

“No need to worry dad, it was an accident.” I gave the brightest smile I could while I patted his back. He gave me a worried look before nodding. My father was a giant of a man, standing at about the height of a bear, he towered over even the most tall elves. His hair was black and his eyes were grey, two colours that elves were known to despise, but on him it looked just right. My fathers features were rather strange, elves were known to look elegant and beautiful, but my dad was definitely not that. His features had a rugged and handsome look to them: looking more human and less ethereal.

After a few seconds my dad seemed to remember why he was here and came back from his slump, he immediately grabbed my hand and dragged me to the bedside to sit down. Holding my hand he opened and closed his mouth for a few seconds before he seemed to decide what he wanted to say.

“I heard what happened today.” 

I wasn’t very surprised, after all, I knew they’d tell him at some point. Dad’s big ,grey eyes stared at me quietly. Even though he didn’t say anything, I could see the hurt and pain in his eyes. He was hurting for me. I had no idea someone could be hurt so much without the use of words or fists.

Dad reached out his big, calloused hand and lightly stroked my head. Suddenly, I wanted to cry. I tried to hold back but the tears fell anyway. Dad seemed to suddenly turn into a pile of anxiety as he looked left and right trying to figure out what to do. When I saw him so anxious  I just cried even harder as I wrapped my arms around his neck for comfort. He lightly patted my back while I cried.

At that moment my emotions hit me; I felt guilty, wronged, resentful, and my body was still in pain. Why, when I was beaten till I could barely walk, did I still have to be understanding and loving towards others? Why couldn’t I hate and despise him for what he’d done? 

Those thoughts scared me, I was drowning in conflicting emotions. I felt anger but I knew I shouldn’t be feeling that way. I was letting my family down by doing this. But why should they care about someone else’s kid so much that they defend him when I’m hurt? Why! Why! Why!

The more I thought, the more I cried, and the more guilty I felt. I took deep breaths trying to sort out my emotions. I’m just a kid, I don’t know about the world, my parents are right, I’m just being stupid. I don’t want to hurt anybody.

 I took deep breaths as I tried to calm my heaving emotions. All throughout my dad stayed quiet and kept patting my shoulder. I couldn’t see his expression with my head on his shoulder. Suddenly, I was a little frightened; if he had heard all my thoughts just then, he would’ve been disappointed, right? Even though I knew that was unrealistic, the thought scared me. I didn’t want my parents to be disappointed.

I tentatively lifted up my head and was greeted by concerned, grey eyes. The only thing they held was endless love and affection and suddenly my fears melted away.

This was my dad, and he wouldn’t leave me even when I was at my worst. I felt comforted and my tears faded, but I was still hiccuping from the sobbing. He lightly patted my back and soothed me while I calmed down.

As I was drowning in warm fuzzy feelings, suddenly, I heard a yell from behind me. Both me and dad turned immediately to look at what it was only to see my mother’s eyes red with anger staring at my dad. If I didn’t know my mom was against violence I would’ve definitely thought she was going to beat him.

Then the nagging started. She pointed her finger at him and went on for about thirty minutes about being careful and respectful of property, not even bothering to leave my room. Damn, she might be against physical violence but apparently verbal lashings were free game.

Author's Note

Any criticism is appreciated!