Monsters

Kirg - Age 16: Lunch Room

"You're not eating again today?" Wren asked, her face etched with worry. 

"I'm not hungry," Kirg denied at the same time his stomach growled. 

Jess shot him an amused look, "Sounds like your mouth and belly don't agree." 

"Kirg, why are you doing this to yourself?" Wren wondered, her soft eyes sad. 

She looked so much like Ishka that Kirg felt a stab of sadness and had to look away. 

"Kirg? I'm worried about you," Wren said. 

Ishka's voice, echoing the same thing. 

"I'm fine," he declared, echoing himself again. 

But Wren wasn't Ishka. Wren hadn't seen what he'd been through. Wren wasn't worried about scaring him by being too aggressive. "Kirg Fantasy Ludia! You listen to me, you are going to eat if I have to force feed you!" 

He started to laugh, but when he looked at her face, she was dead-serious. 

"I'll hold you down so she can," Jess added, oddly straight-faced. 

"We care too much about you to let you keep doing this to yourself," Wren told him. 

She grabbed his hand, as she had so many times in the past three years, and held it tight. Unlike when other girls touched him with lustful intentions, he felt nothing but pure love and concern flowing from her. Just like when Dad held him. Like how Ishka used to feel before he'd quit letting her hold him. 

Tears threatened, and Kirg hated how easily he cried. It made him feel weak, and one thing he never wanted to be ever again was weak. 

He gripped her hand tightly, "I... I..." 

How could he explain to her what he was going through? She was as pure as Ishka, purer probably since she'd never seen the things Ishka had been forced to see. 

No, he reminded himself. Ishka had chosen to see so I wouldn't suffer it alone. 

And how did he repay her kindness? By pulling away from her, making her worry, and thinking about doing horrible filthy things to her, some of the very things she had seen done to him. He could never do that to her. Never. But it didn't stop him from hating himself for fantasizing about it. It didn't stop him from wanting to die.

"What's wrong, Kirg?" Wren asked. "Why aren't you eating? Why are you so distant?" 

Tears returned, but he didn't deserve to cry them. "I'm... I...I..." 

"Just spit it out, already!" Jess griped, already having lost all patience. 

Wren shot her a look but squeezed Kirg's hand, looking into his eyes. "I don't know what's going on with you, but I hope you know how much you mean to us. Our lives became better the day you walked into them. And I'm not just talking about me and Jess. Your sister, Ishka, the one you always talk about. It sounds like she really loves you. If you don't feel like you can open up to us, maybe you could try talking to her?" 

"Not about this," he whispered raggedly. 

"What about your brother?" Jess wondered. 

He shook his head vehemently, "It's my fault Bram hates me. I can't blame him." 

"Bram doesn't hate you," Wren said firmly. "I don't know what happened between you two, but his eyes don't hold hate when they look at you. There's pain there, but there's no hate." 

Kirg almost feared the hope that rose in his chest. If Bram didn't hate him--

It didn't matter. Nothing mattered. Kirg didn't matter. 

The world would be better without him--

"Please, Kirg," Wren whispered. "I can't stand to see you hurting in silence like this. It hurts me. It hurts everybody you love, including Bram and Ishka." 

Kirg snorted, "Bram hasn't even noticed." 

"Is that why you're doing this?" Wren wondered. "To get him to?" 

Kirg looked away. Was he that petty? 

He shook his head, "No." 

"Do you want to hurt them?" Wren wondered. 

"What?! No! I'd never  hurt them," Kirg said vehemently. 

"Then find a way to stop hurting yourself," Wren said pointedly, eying a thin line on his skin. 

Kirg pulled the long sleeve of his shirt down, trying to cover the evidence of the new release he'd found. He hadn't thought it would take this long to heal. If he was eating properly it wouldn't. But he couldn't bring himself to eat, to feed, with any consistency. He just didn't have the drive to do more than get through the day. 

"Would you want Wren to do that to herself?" Jess said, pointing at his arm. She quirked a brow, "Would you want Ishka to starve herself? Would you want Bram to isolate himself?" 

"No," Kirg admitted. "But--"

"No buts," Wren cut him off. "You're going to learn to love yourself and like it, by Nyquil." 

That made him smile. Wren's mom was a nurse practitioner, and Wren had been raised in church, so she didn't cuss. Instead, where most people would curse, she would insert various medication names. It fit surprisingly well, and at times like this, it sometimes even made him smile. 

"I'll... try," he finally conceded. 

She pushed her tray to him, and he realized she'd gotten double the chicken nuggets today. 

"You planned this, didn't you?" he accused, picking one up and popping it into his mouth. 

Jess stared at him, "Kirg, you realize she's been buying double for weeks, trying to get you to eat more, right?" 

He hadn't, just as he hadn't until that moment realized how worried about him she'd been. 

"I'm sorry I worried you," he said remorsefully. 

"Don't apologize, if you're not going to do something about it, "Jess fired back. 

He nodded and looked at Wren, "I'm going to try... I'll start eating more often...and I'll try to be more open with you two." 

"And Ishka," Wren said firmly. 

He hesitated. 

"Kirg, you told me yourself she had been your best friend since you could both talk. I know you have this weird 'I don't deserve her' thing going on, but as much as it hurt me when you pulled away, imagine how much more you've hurt her." 

The thought made his heart clench, and he nodded, "Okay. I'll... try." 

She gave him a look, nudging the tray, and he popped another chicken nugget in his mouth. 

It was the best he could offer, but he really would try.

He'd meant what he said about never wanting to hurt Ishka. But, if what Wren said was true, he already had. That being the case, he needed to figure out how to make it up to her. And maybe, in the process, he could find a way to start seeing himself the way his friends did.