LJ Idol Season 9, Week 04, "Nobody can ride your back if your back's not bent."
Ryan stood in front of his childhood home and pulled the hood of his jacket tighter around his face. The wind caused the leaves in the yard to dance, lifting them and depositing them elsewhere. As he watched the leaves continue their play, Ryan shivered and crossed his arms over his chest.
It had been years since he stood in front of this house. Years since he lived inside it, did his homework, attended the Academy, hoped to become as every bit as prominent in society as his mother. Years. The house showed its age, now, with its overgrown yard and the front windows smashed in, its porch railings in obvious disrepair. His heart ached at the sight of it.
The wind howled, threatening to rip Ryan’s hood off from his head. He gripped the edges of the fabric tightly, holding it in place as best he could as he took one hesitant step inside the yard, and then another. Leaves crunched under his feet, reminding him on the last day he had seen this house, his mother had asked him to rake the lawn when he had gotten home from the Academy.
He also remembered rolling his eyes at her request.
I will not tell you where my son is!
Ryan shook his head, making his way to the front porch. His stomach turned as he took the steps two at a time. As he stood where his mother had stood, years ago. Dark, rusted shadows stained the steps, somehow still visible, even under the moonless sky.
He couldn’t stay here long, he knew. They would no doubt pick up his trail once again, if he stayed anywhere too long.
But his whole body ached -- no, begged for rest. And just one night in his old bed couldn’t hurt, right? His mother would have welcomed him home with open arms. No doubt his old bed would do the same.
This is not the world I envisioned for my child. This is not a world anyone should want for their children!
Ryan shivered, finding the front door unlocked, as if it had been waiting for him to come home. The door creaked on its hinges, announcing his presence like it had always done. He passed more of those rusted shadows, stomach now in his throat as he slipped inside the house.
Even in the darkness, it felt like home. Even in the darkness, he managed to take the stairs two at a time, still knowing just when they would end, and when to pivot on his heel to slip inside his room. His room. He hadn’t had a room in years, hadn’t stepped inside a welcoming home in just as long.
As he neared his bedroom door, he paused. Maybe he shouldn’t be here, after all. Maybe he should head back, head towards the city, and try to hide in plain sight, like he had tried to do that first year. Except --
Except he wanted to see his room. Wanted to lie in his bed -- if it was even still there, after all these years. Taking in a deep breath, Ryan pushed his bedroom door open -- finding that the door still swung soundlessly on its hinges, just like it had always done.
DIE PLAGUE RAT SCUM
The words were splattered against the outer wall of his bedroom, beside the window. He didn’t dare turn on the light despite needing it to see. It would only alert others to his location. His room was in shambles, his dresser drawers all open and their contents spilled all over the floor. Parts of his desk took up the rest of the floor that the papers did not, obviously smashed to pieces by something -- no, someone. Someone who felt it was within their rights to defile such a private space, just because --
He stopped that thought short, relief flooding through him as he noticed that his bed was still miraculously in one piece.
We should want them to live in a world where all human beings are equal. We should treat each child with the respect they deserve, just because they are human, regardless of the way they were --
Ryan picked up a broken piece of his desk off the floor, prodding the bed with it, even using it to pry part of the mattress up off its frame. Satisfied that the bed was still safe, he pulled off his jacket and placed it down on the mattress first. He then turned his back to the painted words, laid down on the bed, and closed his eyes. His mother’s last words continued to repeat themselves in his mind, and he felt something within him shift.
He’d follow in her footsteps. He’d stop running, stop hiding from his own damn government, and he’d prove to them that it didn’t matter not one bit how he wasn’t like them, he could still hold his own in this world. Could still make something of himself, despite everything holding him down. That he could change things, just like how she had been trying to change things since the moment he was --
-- born.
It had been years since he stood in front of this house. Years since he lived inside it, did his homework, attended the Academy, hoped to become as every bit as prominent in society as his mother. Years. The house showed its age, now, with its overgrown yard and the front windows smashed in, its porch railings in obvious disrepair. His heart ached at the sight of it.
The wind howled, threatening to rip Ryan’s hood off from his head. He gripped the edges of the fabric tightly, holding it in place as best he could as he took one hesitant step inside the yard, and then another. Leaves crunched under his feet, reminding him on the last day he had seen this house, his mother had asked him to rake the lawn when he had gotten home from the Academy.
He also remembered rolling his eyes at her request.
I will not tell you where my son is!
Ryan shook his head, making his way to the front porch. His stomach turned as he took the steps two at a time. As he stood where his mother had stood, years ago. Dark, rusted shadows stained the steps, somehow still visible, even under the moonless sky.
He couldn’t stay here long, he knew. They would no doubt pick up his trail once again, if he stayed anywhere too long.
But his whole body ached -- no, begged for rest. And just one night in his old bed couldn’t hurt, right? His mother would have welcomed him home with open arms. No doubt his old bed would do the same.
This is not the world I envisioned for my child. This is not a world anyone should want for their children!
Ryan shivered, finding the front door unlocked, as if it had been waiting for him to come home. The door creaked on its hinges, announcing his presence like it had always done. He passed more of those rusted shadows, stomach now in his throat as he slipped inside the house.
Even in the darkness, it felt like home. Even in the darkness, he managed to take the stairs two at a time, still knowing just when they would end, and when to pivot on his heel to slip inside his room. His room. He hadn’t had a room in years, hadn’t stepped inside a welcoming home in just as long.
As he neared his bedroom door, he paused. Maybe he shouldn’t be here, after all. Maybe he should head back, head towards the city, and try to hide in plain sight, like he had tried to do that first year. Except --
Except he wanted to see his room. Wanted to lie in his bed -- if it was even still there, after all these years. Taking in a deep breath, Ryan pushed his bedroom door open -- finding that the door still swung soundlessly on its hinges, just like it had always done.
DIE PLAGUE RAT SCUM
The words were splattered against the outer wall of his bedroom, beside the window. He didn’t dare turn on the light despite needing it to see. It would only alert others to his location. His room was in shambles, his dresser drawers all open and their contents spilled all over the floor. Parts of his desk took up the rest of the floor that the papers did not, obviously smashed to pieces by something -- no, someone. Someone who felt it was within their rights to defile such a private space, just because --
He stopped that thought short, relief flooding through him as he noticed that his bed was still miraculously in one piece.
We should want them to live in a world where all human beings are equal. We should treat each child with the respect they deserve, just because they are human, regardless of the way they were --
Ryan picked up a broken piece of his desk off the floor, prodding the bed with it, even using it to pry part of the mattress up off its frame. Satisfied that the bed was still safe, he pulled off his jacket and placed it down on the mattress first. He then turned his back to the painted words, laid down on the bed, and closed his eyes. His mother’s last words continued to repeat themselves in his mind, and he felt something within him shift.
He’d follow in her footsteps. He’d stop running, stop hiding from his own damn government, and he’d prove to them that it didn’t matter not one bit how he wasn’t like them, he could still hold his own in this world. Could still make something of himself, despite everything holding him down. That he could change things, just like how she had been trying to change things since the moment he was --
-- born.