HIDING - every scar has a story

42. Scars.

*This chapter is dedicated to my daughter @YellowIsAHappyColor, who was also 6 at the time that I completed this story (years ago). Bea's determined little personality was drawn from my experience with her at this age <3 and like Bea, she's always had a big heart for people with trauma who need a stubborn friend and a good hug. I love and am proud of the person you're becoming, El. This mumma bear will always have your back.*

{Cary}

Jon's room was empty. Cary stood looking at Jon's rumpled bed, his head pounding like someone had been yelling in his ears for the past hour. He was heavy with the dark he'd talked up from the basement, and there was more pressing on the doors he had kept shut. There was a child down there who remembered how to cry, and the wall between them was getting thinner. When he couldn't keep himself apart anymore all of that boy's terror and heartbreak would be his.

He dug in his backpack for his drawing book and pencils and crawled into Jon's bed. He put his head on Jon's cool pillow and pressed the dark onto the page until the paper shone black with graphite. He drew until he felt something release in his chest. He let the drawing book fall, feeling so empty he scraped bottom. He thought he heard one of Jon's sisters crying; no one went to comfort her.

He was lying like that, with his frozen hands tucked under his shirt against the heat of his bruises when Jon came in. Cary blinked like someone had just turned on a light. "Where did you go?"

Jon touched him with a look. "Down to the ravine. There's some bike trails where I used to go when Todd wound me up." His face was still shadowed with anger and tears had left tracks through the dirt on his cheeks. He went to his closet and pulled off his filthy shirt.

Cary closed his eyes. That's what it looked like to not have scars. He said, "Is it supper time?"

"Not for a couple hours," Jon said. He changed quickly, keeping his back to Cary. "Have you eaten anything today?"

Cary thought about that. He was hollow inside. He shook his head.

"Well you look like crap. Come on and I'll make you a snack."

Cary got stiffly to his feet. Dark gathered in the corners of his vision, and he kept his eyes between Jon's shoulders, following him down the hall like he was a bright planet in a black void.

Jon pulled a box of frozen waffles out of the freezer and lined them up in the toaster. "Are you thinking about staying?"

"I told your dad I would."

Jon turned; his face glowed like a light had switched on inside him. Cary shivered, watching him. If he fucked this up, he would care so much about that it was terrifying.

Jon hid his grinning face in the fridge and said, "Check it out, there's real whipped cream in a can."

As if on cue, Jon's littlest sister wandered into the kitchen. She climbed onto the chair next to Cary, watching Jon with a hopeful expression. "Jonee can you make a waffle snack for me?"

"Sure Bea," Jon said.

Bea stared at the side of Cary's face so hard that he finally turned and looked at her. "What."

She had Jon's worried crease in-between her eyebrows. "What happened to your face?"

Cary slid Jon a look. What was he supposed to say here?

Jon said, "Up to you." He grabbed the waffles out of the toaster, blowing on his fingers. He put plates in front of them both.

Cary cut his waffle into four and then cut it again into eight. He did not want to talk about this with Bea. "I made my father angry."