Eleven

The movies was, being completely honest, boring.
It was a thrillar of some kind, with quality that convinced me it was released in the 80`s.
The storyline consisted mainly of a woman being held hostage, and a little violence was thrown in too.
Stanley and I both sat with our backs against a pillow at the head of my bed. I gazed at the screen unintriged and unintentionally yawning.
Although, Stanley seemed engrossed.
He had his knees drawn to his chest with his arms belted tightly across them; like a chain holding him together.
I vaguely wondered that if he let go, would he crumble to pieces?
Like very few times before, he seemed completely relaxed, and drained of all tension and uptightness.
Except in one scene during the movie a charactar got punched, making Stanley flinch involuntarily.
But the more the violence was shown on screen, the more Stanldey adapted. And after about 20 minutes, his shoulders had finally drooped to relax.
Like I`d said before, I completely ignored the movie. I stared into space, and occasionaly at him when I knew he was too absorbed with the flick to notice.
I`d excused myself a couple of times for the duration of the film to the bathroom. Each time I`d come back, Id come to find him sitting mouse-like on the bed, wide-eyed and anxiously waiting my arrival again.
Eventually, there came one scene in the movie that mildly stole my interest,
It was practically the ending, I suspected, and apparently the hostage and her kidnapper had fallen in love.
They were both sitting in the front and passenger seats of a car, staring out the windscreen to the view of a city which was obviously New York.
Both faced to each other, the kidnapper declared his undying love to her, and he kidnapped her because he "wanted her badly".
Now, if any guy had said that to me, I probably would have slapped him for not coming up with a better way to sweep me off my feet.
The hostage had a romantic grin caked on her face while she listened intently to all the crap he spoke.
I found it painfully slushy, but when I glanced in Stanley`s direction he had the exact opposite reaction.
His eyes were large and pupils dilated, and his mouth was even parially hung open as he took in all of the footage.
Finally, the two charactars lips met in a gushy wave of orchestra music, before the screen faded to black and the white credits began to scroll.
I yawned at stretched, thankful the excuse for a movie had finished and turned my attention to Stanley.
He was still gazing dreamily at the credits as they flew gradually up screen; the expression on his face as though he had witnessed something phenomenal.
"Stanley, you could catch a fly in that," I chuckled, nodding at his open mouth.
He blinked out of his hypnosis upon the sound of my voice.
Embarassed, he snapped his jaw shut accompanied by a light laugh.
"Uh.. good movie." he complimented, gently rubbing the back of his neck.
He was trying to sound casual, but I knew the movie had touched him in some way - although I thought it was completely awful.
But I figured if he liked it, it didn`t matter.
The glowing green digits on my bedside alarm clock said 10.20pm, and I suddenly felt a wave of drowsiness surge over me.
"Sleep?" I suggested, stifling a yawn.
"Okay," He murmured, and he swung his weightless legs over the side of the bed, letting me bury my own under the duvet covers.
It was exactly like watching a mouse - he scuttled soundlessly to the sleeping bag and dropped to his knees with a quiet thud and a small scuff to the casrpet, and scrambled inside the bag.
He shuffled deeper inside as I turned off the television by remote and the bedside lamp.
By the time my own head hit the pillow, he was already snug inside, buried apart from his nose and above.
I could tell from the way his cheeks were set upwards and his eyes barely scrunched that he was smiling, his eyes wide with a childish glint and focussing on me.
It was adorable - I felt my stomach tighten in delight at the view. I grinned back at him, the picture of innocence, still able to see the glinted edge of his facial features from the orange streetlight that poured in through the window from outside.
"..Night, Stanley." I whispered, pushing my cheek harder against my pillow for comfort.
"G`.night.." He mumbled wearily, blinking his eyes slowly a few times before they finally closed for the night.
I smiled absentmindedly to myself, looking at his eased figure. He seemed to fall asleep pretty fast; within 5 minutes his breathing had became heavier and his ribcage moved more slowly.
Although for the while I was awake, not everything went peacefully.
At one particular point in his slumber, he began whimpering.
I thought I woulsd ignore it, but then his hands had thrashed out faintly from underneath the sleeping bag; as if he were defending himself.
His face, even though his eyes were still closed, crumpled as though he was crying - I felt terrifed to reach out my arm and poke him lightly.
It was only when he whimpered pitifully, "D-Dad - don`t..!" that I decided I`d had enough.
I sharply turned my body around so I wasn`t facing his thin one, slamming my head underneath the pillow and blanket to block out his tortured moans.
I choked back tears of my own, and in time I fell asleep.
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