Behind Closed Doors

• Brian Knoll, Grade 11
• Short Story
• 2009

Author: Brian Knoll
Age: 17
Address: 102 Bundock St, South Coogee, NSW, 2034
Grade: 11
School: The Emanuel School, Randwick

It took all of my willpower not to barge in there and punch the bastard. I stood outsider the door of my room while he read through my diary – the diary I thought he would have the courtesy to leave alone – out loud. Clenching and unclenching my fists continuously, I almost went barging in, then hesitated.

Originally I started writing the diary because I wanted this to happen, so why was I angry? I started rocking back and forth, heel to toes and back again, clenching and unclenching my fists, nearly punching the air to try and clear my head but holding off on that, figuring I would probably end up breaking something.

'February third. I'm going to turn over a new leaf this year. I'll get a job, earn some money, and actually pay attention in class. No C's for me this time around.'

'February fifth. So far so good, I'm really liking this new school.'

'February twenty-ninth. I have not written for a while. It is happening again!'

I reached for the door. Softly grasping the handle, I almost got to pushing it open... Then I mentally rehearsed the last line he had read, and silently cussed. Regardless of my original intentions, some entries in my diary were-

'March first. James got me a new sketchbook, I'm amazed he actually knows I draw, since I generally don't pay too much attention in art. Back on top of my work, now that it is out of my system. For now at least.'

There it was. It made me nervous, knowing that he was reading things about me that I had never revealed to anyone else. Not even my own family. I peeked around the door, and saw James was sprawled on my bed, with his arms crossed over the bottom of my book. He was wearing those tight-fitting shorts and t-shirt he usually reserved for tennis games; he must have been planning on playing later today. I pulled back slower than I should have. I still wanted to strangle him, but at the same time seeing him had the same effect it always had. Not one I wanted to tell anyone else about.

This time I walked slowly away from my room, rolling my feet, and moved towards the guest-room, which is where James was meant to be. The first thing I noticed was his bag, packed, on the floor. There was no chance to see more, mostly because he came up behind me, ruffled my hair, and picked up his bag. I'm sure he said something on the way out, but I was too busy wondering at the physical contact. That wasn't his style.

I walked back to my room and quickly flipped through the diary. My heart was racing. Then I got to the latest page, and it skipped a beat. The last entry had been torn out. I knew it word for word. 'I can't run again. I'll love him in hiding.'