man of a thousand faces // {kiah}

“You must have seen it, Quentin – whoever stole the watch. You were on that side of the fields, weren’t you?”

“Yeah, but I…”

“Alright then, who was it?” Curiosity is so blatantly evident in her eyes, but so is fear. Names, and the right ones, are what put food on our dinner plates every night. The kitchen suddenly seems ten shades dimmer, an eeriness aroused from the depths of our shallow conversation. I look down at the ground for a moment, shifting my feet around restlessly before mustering enough courage to look back into my mother’s eyes and give her a name.

“It was Tyler. Tyler Blackwell: the tall, lanky boy. I saw him steal the watch.” I swallow down all and every other lie before it can escape my throat. Think of how many times I would’ve been whipped by now had I been telling the truth this entire time. I fake a half-smile on my face as I walk from the kitchen and down the hall to my bedroom as I do every day when I get home from work. Just like any other day. I’m a normal boy feeling normal things, right? No, no I’m not; and now someone is about to get hurt for it.

The tears start clouding my vision, and I quickly grab for my doorknob, shutting the door behind me just as the tears come down in chaos. Everything hurts, my entire body shaking as I fall into the chair next to the window. I pull my knees up to my chest and rest my head against them with a good view of the dull world beyond the window. I cover my mouth, trying to muffle my cries so that my mother doesn’t hear.

There’s something wrong with me; everything’s wrong with me, from the way Tyler Blackwell’s name slipped so easily from my mouth to the way my hands can’t stay out of people’s pockets to the way I felt my heart beating just a little faster when I saw Sampson Izar the other day. It’s not right: none of it is right. All of my friends at school think I’m so cool and composed; everyone wants to be my friend, hear me crack a joke or something, but if they only knew how terrible of a person I really am.

I eye my closet shamefully, knowing there are secrets in there that will hopefully forever remain secrets; and yet, I can't fathom the thought of keeping so many secrets. Someday, there won't be enough room - the secrets will have no choice but to come pouring out in thousands. I lean my head back on my heads just as I hear the door creak. "Go away!" I shout unstably without thinking, the tears of shame turning into tears of hopeless frustration. That's what I do, isn't it? Act without thinking. And now people are being whipped and punished for my stupidity. I don't look up from my knees; I don't want to know who it is - if it's my mother, I'll have to make up some stupid lie again, and next thing you know it, someone else is hurt because I don't know how to tell the truth.

So I keep staring out the window, all defenses crumbled, only waiting for the voice to speak.

ooc; sorry this sucks, just really wanted to get this thread up before we put it off for another few months or something, lol