Bars

• Bronwyn Mcdonald, Grade 10
• Short Story
• 2017

Slam.
He was back.
Miles threw out his remaining dinner, cleaning up so there would be one less thing to anger his father. Not that it would matter. He was always angry.
His heart beat faster as he heard his dad's staggered footsteps approaching. Quickly, he crept out of the kitchen. Thinking he was safe, he let out a sigh of relief.
"Where d’you think you’re going?" slurred a voice.
Miles swore.
"Answer me!" his father yelled.
Miles apologised.
His father approached him. Miles tensed.
The man's brutish face was right in front of his own. As usual, his breath reeked of whiskey.
He winced as his father hit him. He was used to this now. He had to be.
After all, this was his life.
He would never escape these bars.
***
Miles made his way down the school hallway. As usual, he had covered up the bruises with the makeup his mother left behind. Keeping his head down, he ignored the whispers. He knew what people called him. He didn't care. It was better than them knowing the truth.
He sat down at his desk in the back corner. The other desks filled after. Except for the one next to him. It was always empty.
The teacher said something about a new student. Miles tuned out.
He looked around. The grey walls, dim lights and the bars on the windows, like a prison. He felt like the room was mocking him.
His father was the prison, and he had a life sentence.
He was broken out of his thoughts as someone spoke.
"What?" Miles yelped, noticing the smiling boy with brown hair sitting at the desk next to him.
"I'm Aaron, what's your name?” the brunet repeated.
"Miles," was his murmured reply.
“Well, Miles, would you be able to show me around? The map…” he trailed off as he noticed Miles staring at him. “O-Only if you want to,” his smile faded.
Miles was shocked that someone actually wanted to talk to him.
Slowly, the corners of his mouth turned up.
“I’ll help you.”
***
“Hey Miles,” Aaron said. Miles looked up.
They were in Aaron’s room. The two had become close friends; Miles used this as an escape from home.
“Why don’t you ever talk about your family?”
Miles hesitated. What if he leaves me when he finds out? He looked at Aaron and felt a surge of reassurance. I trust him.
All the emotions that he had bottled up spilled out like blood from a wound. His mum’s fatal car crash. His dad turning to alcohol to dull the pain. How he blamed Miles for the crash. The years of abuse.
When Miles finished, Aaron was silent. Miles panicked.
“I'll help you,” said Aaron, eyes burning with determination.
Miles stared at the boy in disbelief.
Then, he laughed.
***
The next day at school, the classroom was different. The lights were fixed and the walls painted.
And they had removed the bars from the window.