Every Shattered Thing (Come Alive) Read Free Page A

his shoulder. “I’ll leave you alone. Find somewhere else to sleep tonight, you waste of space!”
    I stare at his retreating figure for a half second before I realize what he was saying. I jump up and run after him, crying the whole way.
    “Daddy, daddy —no wait... please ! I…I didn’t meant it!”
    My voice starts shaking. I trip on a dip in the road, landing hard on my knee. Blood immediately starts forming tiny rivers down my jeans.
    “Please...” I whisper, crumpled on the ground broken.
    He turns and walks toward me, a smirk on his face. Taking the hand he offers, I wince at the force he uses to yank me up. He brings his face within inches of my own, his breath pushing the hair across my face. He reaches out and grabs my arms with such brute force, tears threaten to spill out against my will. I bite my lip, fighting to keep control.
    He snarls in disgust. “I regret the day you were born. You mean nothing to me, you little bitch.
    Nothing. You’re the worst mistake of my life.”
    Within seconds, my father manages to reach inside and rip open every single wound from every single harsh word ever spoken to me. His retreating figure broke my heart before. Now? I am shattered. I wiggle from his grasp and turn and walk into the house, ignoring the apparent absence of my mother. I make my way to my room, welcoming the haze starting to form around my brain.
    I am nothing. I mean nothing.
    Closing my eyes, I let the darkness sweep over me as the tears finally gain the freedom to take over. My body, exhausted from the night’s events, begs for rest, but my mind wants nothing of it. I spend the rest of the night in a comatose state and it’s not until the first light peeks through the corner window that I wake. With the urgency of lunacy, I shower and change clothes.
    The sunrise. I need to see it. I need to remember.
    I leave the house with minutes to spare and am rewarded by one of the most stunning displays of color I have ever seen. I lock the door behind me, stuff my hands in the pockets of my jacket, and begin the long walk to school, eyes fixed to oranges and reds and pinks, fighting for a piece of the sky.

    ***
    I see him before he sees me. He’s sitting on the bleachers—my favorite spot —talking to
    someone on his cell phone. This has been our meeting place for a few weeks now, our way of starting the day together. This morning he’s wearing his typical letter jacket and jeans. I think of his scent—the way it lingers on my clothes after he holds me—and I smile, the butterflies coming to life inside. His hair falls across his forehead and he reaches up to brush it away. I stop for a few minutes and just watch him. I imagine he’s talking to his mom—who else would be up this early? Not wanting to interrupt him, I wait for awhile longer. I didn’t know if he would be here this morning because I wasn’t able to answer his phone call last night.
    Last night.
    My vision goes hazy as I try and push the memories away. I glance again at the sky and remind myself that today is a new day with new possibilities and hope. My eyes wander back to Kevin—he looks tired. He’s off the phone now, his eyes focusing on the clouds in the distance. His head rests in his hands and every once in awhile his left foot starts to involuntarily bounce. His nervous twitch. I smile to myself and make my way over to the bleachers. He hears my approach and lifts his head. Smiling, he reaches for my hand to help me up the stairs.
    “You started early this morning.”
    He tilts his head and his grin grows across his face. "Huh?”
    I point to his phone, still sticking out of his pocket, and he understands.
    “Oh. Yeah. That was uh, my mom.” He scratches his head sheepishly, as if he wonders whether or not he should divulge information, and then shrugs. “She just likes to know I made it to school okay.”
    I raise an eyebrow and maneuver myself under his arms, away from the chill of the morning air.
    He tightens the