*Break Me* (An optional title, but please read* )

I know it's sort of long, but if you have time to read it I would really appreciate it. THis is the begining of a work I am writing and entering in a contest on friday. Please be honest and let me know what you think!!!

Love Kaiti~

Empty. It’s what his eyes reflected as he walked down the street. The irises were glassy and broken. His heavy soles dragged along the pavement destroying the lonely dandelions along the way. Constantly aware of his surroundings, the boy’s lonely eyes flicked from side to side. His walk resembled that of a prisoner taking his final stride down the foreboding hallways. Though his mouth was sullen and tightly sealed, it was as if his heart was pleading desperately for an angel to come take him away. I saw him everyday and yet somehow, I never truly saw him. His ability to blend surreptitiously into the crowd became his key to survival. He saw, heard and felt everything around him and yet no one even knew he existed. Never did he falter as he walked along the decaying old side walk, step after step like a beating drum.
It occurred to me only recently, the significance of the moments when he looked at me. Those eyes…Those inexplicable eyes had a gravity all their own. They were mesmerizing, but because of my naïve ignorance I never even knew he looked my way. I never knew how he gazed at me or how his eyes took on a lively charm when they would watch me laugh. He lived through me, and therefore he knew more about me than I did. He understood me in ways that no had or ever will. It was in the days that were to transpire that I would find out just how much the broken boy really did love me and how much I loved him back.
Unspoken were the words we spoke fluently. The silence that we swam in tied us together and was deeper than any words could ever be. When our eyes met, it was if all the questions of the world had suddenly been understood. And yet more often than not, the connection we bore became more than we could bear. In our separate strings of life we absorbed all the emotions of the people around us. When our eyes finally met, the strings of our life began to weave a picture so grand neither of us could fully comprehend. Silence became a drug, because it became the one true moment in the day filled with light. I suppose our connection may be labeled destiny or perhaps fate, but whether or not this is true the link we shared did more than just exist; it saved my life.
Have you ever really looked at a scar? Most people never even acknowledge the lines that streak their bodies. Each wound upon the surface of the skin reveals a story, much like the weathered down parts of a cliff. Was the wound deep? What caused it? Your first shaky bike ride after leaving your father’s steady hold? The new cat your sister found along side of the road? Or maybe it was your mother’s razor, located just under the bathroom cupboard. Some scars never fade. They are a constant nagging reminder of the past mistakes and accidents. Other marks upon the skin end up fading away, but usually those are not self inflicted. His scars never faded. They striped his arm in every which way possible. Some were puffier than others, so they stuck out more and others were thin lines. Most were white, others were pink but some of the more angry marks were newly carved and still red from blood. The scars marred his flesh to the point where smooth skin was an unrecognized territory upon his body.
Those who were cruel called him names and the ones who feared him denied his existence. Some teachers and parents looked at him with pity while others conveniently used him as a threat to their own children.
“Michael don’t be mean to your brother, you wouldn’t want him to end up like that boy.”
Because I do not belong to either of these groups, my last option was to observe him. I was fascinated by him and I would spend countless hours imagining the circumstances behind his enticing scars. The most important question I tried to figure out was…why. Why did he do it? No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t bring my self to a clear cut answer. Every reason became muddled with more questions that were left unanswered. His pain became a dark tunnel that I was swept into, much like the curious girl who followed the rabbit.
Or maybe I was wrong. Maybe all those scars were a result of falling. Yes, perhaps he fell into broken glass, repeatedly. I quickly discarded this idea knowing it was absolutely ridiculous. Who would continually throw themselves into a pile of glass? Maybe the same person who cut themselves with a razor?