Eight

"So... first, do you want anything to eat?" I asked quietly.
His fingers twitched.
"Are... are you having anything?" He asked.
"...sure."
"Okay, then." He confirmed.
I nodded, stood up and walked to the kitchen.
I didn`t bother asking him what he wanted to eat, it would just make him feel more awkward.
From the kitchen, I could see the back of the couch and his head in the livingroom; looking around almost unnoticibly.
His movement reminded me of a mouse - not exactly a surprise.
On top of the breadbox was a packet of cupcakes, and I took two out of the plastic packaging and went back to the livingroom.
He was staring at me as I landed back down on the sofa.
Taking one capcake with blue icing, I set it to balance on his lap, and I was delighted to see his face break into a smile.
"How`d you know I like cupcakes?" He murmured cutely.
I sniggered.
"Everybody likes cupcakes, my friend." I corrected.
He nodded in agreement, and took the small cake in a thing hand.
Then he looked over at me.
God, he was so shy he wouldn`t even eat without consent.
I assured him by taking a bite of my own sky-cloloured cake, so he would eat his own.
I gave him a little while to finish his, so I could start asking questions.
"So.. um-" I gulped. I hated starting up unhappy topics. "D-Did he do that to you, again...?"
He froze momentarily.
"Uh-huh." He murmured, and shifted uncomfortably in his seat through a small mouthful of cupcake, before swallowing dryly.
There was a silence that followed, clogging the air I breathed.
I listened to him breathing.
It was heavy, but quiet; as if it took a little more effor to fill his small lungs.
"..why?" I asked.
"Dunno." He grumbled.
"...If you told me, I could help." I offered. I was using a technique I`d seen on T.V so many times before. Talking and acting calmly; to be the good guy.
Even though Stanley wasn`t a bad guy.
"H-How could you possibly help?" He whispered. He wasn`t angry or annoyed when he spoke, just giving me a tortured look as if he really wanted an answer to that question.
"You`d be surpirsed." I smiled slightly.
He stared amost thoughtfully at his cupcake wrapper for a moment.
"I... didn`t come for help." He noted, lips barely moving at all.
I opened my mouth to ask why in hell he`d come here, but he cut me off.
"I- I just needed to get away from him..." He groaned, with a hint of hysterica in his voice, "Just for a little while."
"Tell me what he does, then, to make you wanna get away." I ordered bluntly. It was obviously a personal thing to him, but I had to know what he went through most likely every day of his life.
"... lotta shit." He mumbled.
"Like what, Stanley?" I
urged.
"Well...it sounds stupid... but i don`t know where to, um... start." He blushed.
I didn`t think it sounded stupid. It really made a lump of sadness gather in my throat at the fact he couldn`t find a beginning to the beatings.
I pressed my lips together.
"Um, okay - what did he do today?" I felt minorly queasy at what we were about to discuss - how he would be beaten to a pulp daily.
And guilty, because I was making him relive it again.
He gulped.
"W-Well.." Oh gid. His eyes were watering, and a break cracked in his gentle voice.
"H-He was.." He couldn`t even finish. All the build up of emotion inside of him then found its height, and beads of liquid fell from his eyes as his face crumpled.
He tried to muffle a sob by biting down on his lip, but it was still so obvious he was crying already, as quiet as it was.
"Stanley -" I looked at him miserably, "..Come here a sec."
Bravely but cautiously I stretched out my arms, as if tempting a hungry animal to food.
He was still disposing gentle, timid sobs and looked, unfamiliarised, at both my arms.
Thankfully, he suffled over toward me, and placed out his own arm.
I put one of mine around his weak shoulderblades, and he snaked one around my back to my waist.
It was one hell of an awkward-styled hug, but cosy all the same.
Even at the fact his hand felt cold against my thin T-Shirt.
He slowly leaned a head on my shoulder, continuing to sniffle and produced strangled little gaps, as if trying not to burst into full-blown hysterics.
"...carry on.." I urged again, but not as straightforwardly. It was selfish, but didn`t he need to get a load off his chest before it collapsed altogether?
"Uh - um.." He began shakily. I felt his ribcage expand against mine with every trembling inhale. "W-Well... he came inside - about maybe t-two hours ago..."
More sniffling. I tightened my arms just a little bit to comfort him.
"B-but he was sober this time, Danielle... he j-just usually does it when he`s p-pissed..." He continued. I was beginning to felt the fabric on my shoulder get damp with his tears.
"B-But he got back from whereever the f-fuck he was, a-and got that belt -" He continued.
"Belt?!" I gasped. Shit.
I felt the friction of his head nodding against my shoulder, showing it was indeed a belt.
"And t-then he spent a long damned t-time on me with that belt.." He choked out bitterly. I could tell from the way he said `belt` it must have been used on a regular basis, making the contents of my stomach swish and make me feel nautious.
The image of innocent Stanley, and his Father, whoever the hell that man thought he was, with a belt... no, I couldn`t even bring the scene to mind. I didn`t want to.
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