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We Never Seem to Know...

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A silent victim

He knew what no one did. You see, it wasn´t karate that colored the ribs of a black-purple and cut the skin of his friend, but his dad. The scars, his constant injuries, were not enough signs for anybody to care enough. Only Tommy knew. He once saw his father slapped him from his window bedroom, they were neighbors, and sometimes he wouldn´t only see but hear how his classmate was every day tortured by the one supposed to love and protect him.

Tommy had problems too. His grandma had cancer. Sometimes he didn´t even get lunch for school, medicine when sick because he wanted to help in any way his granny. He could see that she suffered, and her mom and dad fought every night because of their financial problems. Nothing was peaceful except when he was with his friend. The one that despite his injuries was always kind and loving didn´t care if he had a twisted ankle or his tears spread on the bathroom floor, Tommy and his friend were inseparable and fortunate, for they had discovered the power and shelter that a friend can provide.

“Be kinder than necessary, for everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle.” he writes, wipes tears from his eyes. Tomorrow he would give him a call; he misses his old friend.

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