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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Kids
- Theme: Inspirational
- Subject: Childhood / Youth
- Published: 10/10/2024
Hurt
Hurt
My eyes are flooded with tears. I’m standing next to my mom’s coffin. It’s open. Her face is so pale. No life at all. My little brother Jacob is right next to me, tears slowly running down his chubby cheeks. His blonde hair is a shaggy mess he must’ve been playing in the trees somewhere, because of the twigs also in his hair.
Jacob is two years old, I’m seven years older than he is and the best little brother I could possibly have. I continue to look at my mom's body lying in that coffin. Her brown hair is dull, her eyelids are shut so I can’t see her lifeless green eyes.
My dad is talking to a lady with ginger hair with eyes like sharp crystals. I’ve seen her before but only on nights my mom was out of the house.
I look over at Auntie Savannah who is watching them as well. Tears are in her eyes, but she is also angry. Her eyes wander away from them, I think they’re searching for someone. When her eyes land on me and Jacob, she comes right over to us.
“You guys shouldn’t be over here, okay.” She says as she leads us away from the coffin. She then tries to pick Jacob up, but her pregnant belly gets in the way. So, I then pick Jacob up. Auntie Savannah whispers a silent thank you to me. I wiped mine and my brother’s eyes.
“Who is that red-haired lady my dad is talking to?” I ask.
“You’re dad is such an idiot for bringing you guys here.” She responds.
“ I asked him to bring us.”
“That sounds like him, only his nine-year-old daughter can talk him into anything. But you poor babies still shouldn’t be here.” She says opening a sliding glass door for me and her. Tanner and Trinity come walking up to us. Tanner is the same age as me and Trinity is 13.
“I think it’s perfectly okay for the both of us to be here. Because me and Jacob have the right to see our mother in that coffin and to mourn her. Giving us the last chance to say good-bye to her, hoping and praying that she hears us.” I say tears pinching the back of my eyes. But I hold them in, I can’t let them see me cry right now. My eyes are already too sore. I feel like I’ve been crying for months but in reality, it’s only been a week. “Am I wrong?” She looks at me eyes wide.
“I see why your dad does everything you ask. You make people want to listen. You are so smart just like your mother… was.” Auntie Savannah struggles on her last word.
⚡?⚡
I’m laying in my bed looking up at the ceiling when my dad walks in. I don’t think I've slept a wink in a week.
“Kiddo, I need you to get up and get ready for school.” My dad says sitting on my bed. I turn away from him and sigh. It’ll be my first day back since my mom passed. “I know you don’t want to, but you have too.” He picks me up and carries me to the bathroom, so I force myself to get ready without saying a word to him. I look in the mirror, under my eyes it is dark. My eyes are bloodshot red, veins seeming to have a race to my iris. I can barely hold my eyes open, but at the same time they won’t close.
⚡?⚡
Today won’t be the same, all kids know what happened, news travels fast in this small town.
My eyes sting and burn, tears want to come but I don’t let them. The drive is only 15 minutes, but it feels like days. The car rolls to a stop in the front of my school.
“Have a good day, Lynn.” Dad says as I lean over to my brother Jacob and tap his nose. Jacob lets out a tiny squeak. I get out of the car. My dad drives off taking Jacob with him.
⚡?⚡
The day drowns on, and I feel that I’ll never get a break from Mrs. Cunningham’s shrieking voice. Nails on chalkboard you might say. But finally, after what seems like hours and hours, we get recess.
As we walk out the door I get shoved to the ground, by a ginger haired boy with brown eyes. I don’t even know who he is. I stand up and dust myself off. I continue to walk on, until I find a tree to climb. I stay up there till recess is over.
It goes on like that for a month I tell no one. I don’t even whisper it to Jacob when we are alone. I found out that the boy’s name is Jeremiah Moore.
He finds it funny to push me every day when we walk out those classroom doors. I don’t say a word to him, and he has none for me it seems. But every time he’s pushed me, I’ve gotten a little angrier each time. My knees are sore, and now bloody from today's push. The rim of my shorts are just high enough to not get dirt on them.
I’ve made up my mind. Today will be the last day he pushes me. So, when I get off the ground, I follow him. All the way to the monkey bars. His back is to me, I tap on his shoulder.
He turns around with a smile on his face, but when he sees me his smile fades to a look of disgust.
“You’re Jeremiah, right?” I ask.
“Oh, she can talk you guys.” He feigned shock.
“Can you stop pushing me every day, please?”
“No,”
“Why not?”
“Because I said so.” Jeremiah says as he pushes me to the ground where I started in the first place. He turns around to continue talking to his friends. I stood up dust off my knees for the second time today. I tap on Jeremiah’s shoulder again. Once he turns around, I push him, he stumbles but does not fall. His eyes are filled with anger. He then pushes me again. I feel as if I fly off the ground and lunge at him. We’re now in a wrestling heap in the dirt. He’s strong for a nine-year-old, soon I’m pinned under him. Jeremiah laughs in my face; his breath smells like nacho cheese.
As he stares into my eyes I see hurt in his. Somewhere inside he’s hurting. Just like me.
I catch him off guard, I roll till I’m on top of him. He struggles under me, but I keep my hold on him. His eyes are shifting now, looking everywhere.
“Who hurt you?” I ask right before one of his friends pull me off him. Both our clothes are now dirty. He gets off the ground.
“No one. What are you talking about?” His face twists in confusion. I still see the hurt in his eyes.
“You’re hurting, I can see it. You can’t hide it from me.” I say backing away. “Jeremiah, you should tell someone.” As I walk away from him, I find myself looking back at him. Catching as his eyes drift to the sky. Maybe he’s lost someone too?
When we get back to class Jeremiah is quiet. Not making his usual jokes. Just silence.
⚡?⚡
The next day when we get let out for recess, I wait for my shove. But it does not come. I look to find Jeremiah on the swing set by himself. My feet slowly walk in that direction. I hear the cries of the swings as I get closer. His eyes are at his feet. When I get to the swing set, I sit in the swing that’s next to him. Jeremiah looks up at me, tears sitting at his eyelids threatening to pour over and race down his face.
“Go . . . away.” I can hear the tears clenching his throat. He looks down, back to his feet.
“Just talk to me Jeremiah . . .” I speak.
“Why should I?” His voice is small.
“Who did you lose?” I ask, it’s not a question I thought I’d ask him. I don’t think he’ll answer, we sit in silence.
“I – I,” Jeremiah starts. “I lost my older sister last year. Our mom had died giving birth to me. So, my sister Jane was like a mom to me. And now she’s just gone.”
“I’m sorry.” I say, and he looks at me in shock. His shock is real this time.
“You’re what?”
“I’m sorry? About your sister.”
“No one’s ever said that to me.”
“What?”
“No one said that when she died, we didn’t even have a funeral for her. It’s like she’s gone but no one cares.” I get off my swing and hug him, he hugs me back. The threatening tears finally spill over. A lightbulb goes off in my head. I released him.
“Want to hear something I just thought of?” I ask as I sit back on the swing.
“Sure.”
“Start swinging first then I’ll tell you,” I rock my body back and forth to get the swing started, he does the same but slowly. “Now look up at the sky. And just think about her. All the good things about her.” He looks to the sky. Wet streaks on his face glistening in the sunlight. I look to the sky myself, only seeing the blue sky with some clouds. Thinking about my mom, before seeing her in that coffin, before seeing her in a hospital bed.
I wish I could’ve done more, but it was just way out of my power. The bell rings, calling us back inside.
“Thank you, Lynn.” Jeremiah says getting off the swings, I get off as well.
“What are friends for,” I say as he walks away.
The broken find the broken and we heal each other. It may be a long hard journey, but we can do it. When some people hurt, they want to hurt other people because they think they’ll feel better. Just give them a chance and wait for them, on this long journey that we like to call life.
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