Helpless

I watched helplessly as he sat on the floor in his room, continuing to cut himself, crimson blood flowing out if his open scars. His father stormed into the room angrily, holding his report card in his hand. It was like I wasn’t even there. He stood up on the floor as his father came towards him, but was then shoved back down to the ground and kicked and beaten while his father yelled and cursed at him, until finally his father left him alone.1

He cradled his now broken arm gently in his lap. All I could do was watch while he cursed to himself hatefully, silent tears streaming down his cheeks. It was as if I were in a movie. I couldn’t move or speak. He stood up slowly and walked over to his belt, which he had used so many times before at an attempt to end a life he’d never been happy living.2

I awoke in my bed in a cold sweat, the images of my nightmare still haunting me. I sighed in sullen relief as I realized it had only been a dream, and nothing more. Uncontrollable tears streamed down my cheeks as I recalled the last image I had seen of my boyfriend, who I care about more than anyone, loomed in front of me. He had hung himself from his belt on the ceiling of his bedroom; his dead, rich brown eyes stared directly at me, as if he was seeing through me, even though he was dead.3

That night I cried myself to sleep. I always had horrible nightmares, some worse than this one, of my boyfriend doing just that. He’d tried so many times before. He hated his life. He was always being blamed for every bad thing that happened, and his bastard father was always beating him. School didn’t exactly help either. He was always getting into fights and was yelled at and hit by his father if he didn’t get good enough grades.4

I feel so helpless. I don’t know what I can do. I want to comfort him, but whenever I try he just pushed me gently away, and says its ok, and that he’s fine. 5