He is waiting by her locker, which is across the hall from my own. He's short and chunky, and his face looks scrunched up, like a used tissue. Sometimes I hear him try to sing to her. She's too sweet to tell him how off-key he is. Yet it's him who always has his arm around her shoulders. It's him who gets to lean in and kiss her cheek.
He is yelling again. She never yells back, she just speaks quietly until he calms. He doesn't deserve her patience. I close my locker and look over. His face is beet red and spit flies out of his mouth as he shouts. She wipes it off her face and takes a step towards him, and he pushes her. She stumbles against the lockers. I can't allow this.
I stomp over, and shove him. He tumbles to the floor, expression bewildered. He starts to cry. Pathetic.
I turn to her. She looks angry. It doesn’t make sense. I saved her, she should be grateful.
“You don't have to put up with his abuse,” I tell her, “You deserve a better boyfriend.”
“Boyfriend?!” she exclaims, “He's my brother- my mentally disabled brother. Maybe you should get a goddamn clue what's going on before shoving people around, you idiot.”
S. Arawn Lynden is the pen-name of a Toronto woman with a passion for the written word. Having first sat down at a typewriter at the age of four, she fell hopelessly in love at first write. Currently involved with several short stories, she aspires to work her way up to novels. Typically a fantasy or science fiction writer, she's known to dabble across all genres. She has yet to meet an idea she doesn't like. Drawing from an eclectic set of life experiences including adoption and reunion, taking a stand for equality, and three near-death experiences; S. Arawn Lynden prefers to look at things from a different perspective. She hopes that through her work, she can help others take a fresh look at life.