Chapter Ten: The World Judges

I could feel her eyes on me, feel how she watched me apply ointment on his skin but refrained from asking me questions. But honestly, I understood, I probably wouldn't have contained myself if I walked in on the scene at hand.

But she did and that's one of the reasons why I loved her and that she was the best mother in the world to me. She had the patience and barely had an outburst unless it was something she had been holding in.

So, when I heard the door open, I never bothered to hide his body. When I heard her excited chatter drown out the silence as she came up the stairs, I never bothered to try and quiet her down. Because I knew what would happen and when she walked in and found my bloody hands dripping.

I heard her deep intake and watched her unsaid words tumble down like unsynced blocks. Her chatter disposed and right there at that moment, I could feel the motherly aura fill the room.

I wondered many things at that moment. I wondered what it's like to be a mother, to love your child so much that you cannot control your instinct. I wondered if this had been me and my father had left so much damage on me.

What would the woman who bore me say?

What would she say after all that time and effort she put in me was tainted because I wasn't what someone else expected me to be. If I wasn't what the world or religious guidelines expected me to be.

Would she personally scorn me or would she still love me unconditionally as she promised?

So we both watched his body rise and fall. Watched how at times, his body would form a cocoon, trying to protect itself from reality. Because honestly, we all had to admit, dreams were the best in trying to keep us from reality was cruel.

"Do-" she started, any blind person could hear that she was unsure of what to say. Unsure of which direction to pick.

Does she comfort?

Does she question?

Does she back off?

Does she just listen?

"Does this always happen to him?" she asked after a moment.

"Sometimes but usually over a certain period of time. Usually, on the holidays, it doesn't happen, he got to look healthy and pretend to be an unblemished start. Yet there are times when it happens but it's rare." I murmured, noticing him flinch as soon as I tried to touch his skin again.

"Who does this to him?"

"His father."

"Why on earth would a father would this to his son? Is he that much of a rebel?" my mom asked, I could hear the offense in her tone, it seemed to drip off the tip of her tongue and I understood why.

She wouldn't do this

"What you won't do, others will," I whispered. "Being different, like really different mom is often judged and criticized. When you are born a certain way with a different mindset, you are judged for it."

"So, what is that supposed to mean? Whip the person till they change and become what you want them to be?" she questioned

Letting out a dark chuckle I turned my attention to her. "There are many ways to 'whip' a person. You don't always need to do it with an actual whip. You can easily judge a person for who they are and many others with the same mentality will join you.

That mass will create a whip on its own, constantly leeching themselves onto you and pulling back, before coming back down harder with a new insight. The world isn't the same mother.

It hurts more lately, not that it didn't before but this time… there was more than one way to try and change a person into something you want them to be. And it doesn't even have to be peer pressure." I stated.

"What is so wrong with him that he needs to be judged for it?"

"He loves what he shouldn't mother and that is why he is crucified for it," I murmured.

"Well tell my freaking father he nailed it, my body hurts more this time and it isn't from cross fit." We heard, both turning our attention to James, I nearly smacked his head from the lame pun.

"Your friend seems okay," my mother said as she chuckled, "I'll go start dinner, James, we should have some clothes that will fit you. I'll check for you and bring them up here."

As soon as she closed the door, I turned my attention to him and allowed my hand to run through his hair. Watching me, he gave me a small forced smile and a part of me wanted to tell him it was okay but I knew it wasn't.

So, I let the silence take its seat and waited for him to drift back to sleep that way I could clean up and prepare everything for him.