Love is where the heart is

Stop child abuse now.....

Smothered by the shadows of his room, he cried. It was an outlet, to all his fear and hate of the light. His light was long gone, snuffed out by the accident that claimed his mother’s life. His father was shattered, and when he reformed the trauma left him jagged, slivers of hate digging into those around him. His son, Jimmy, felt the brunt of this hate. Only 8 years old, he hid in terror of his father’s anger. It was a black, sick anger, set off by the smallest things. Jimmy hated the light. It was revealing, degrading. His bruises were visible in the light. He hid them, cloaked himself in a hoodie he wore every day to school. His father was good, he saw that, knew he was sad. He was a tortured man, whose pain Jimmy could not understand. Not yet.

His life changed drastically when a new person entered his life. Emma. Her long, unkept hair framed her face nicely, but he kept that to himself. But he noticed something else about her, something that worried him. Her eyes were like deep green pools, but they held so much sadness and fear. They started talking soon after her arrival. She confessed that her mother abused her, and that her bruises were larger and darker. More painful. Finding another person with the same pain comforted them. They found solace in one another after school, lingering as long as they could, before returning to their personal hells.

After a few months Emma started to notice Jimmy’s bruises increasing, the colors darkening. Emma, worried for her friends welfare, began to construct a plan to help Jimmy and herself. The two left for the library together, and spent a long time taking notes and thinking about running away. They split apart and dragged themselves home. Jimmy, peering inside his house was startled and terribly afraid when his father began to approach him, expression blank.

Jimmy braced himself, squeezing his eyes shut. He was frozen, however, when his father chose not to strike him, but pull him into his arms. Jimmy was to shocked to breathe properly. His father’s body shook, pulling back to gaze at his only child with regret and pain written all over his face.

“My son,” He whispered,” I have no word to describe how sorry I am. I have...no excuse for what I have done. I pray with everything I have that you will forgive me, someday.” Jimmy was speechless, light headed. There was no way his father...the man he feared, trembled in corners to escape from, was truly apologizing? But, the man was his father, and he felt that the man was truly sorry. Pulling away, his father ambled up the stairs, and that was it.

“Dad?” Jimmy asked hesitatingly, knocking on his door, “Are you in there?” He opened the door slowly, to find the window open, the curtains shifting with the breeze. A single piece of paper was left on the night stand, fold in half with ‘Jimmy’  written in his father’s scrawl.

Jimmy,

I am sorry for all that I have done to you. For All of the pain I have caused. I have to go so you can live a happy life with no pain. Please forgive me.

Love, dad

Fingers trembling, he dropped the paper, rushing to the phone to call Emma. 

So this is the beginning of a story I am writing. I wrote and came up with the main idea and my cousin Chava was amazing and did the editing. Give me some reviews and stuff.

Author's Note

What do you guys think? should I do a second chapter?