Henry placed his mother’s necklace-A purple glass chip on a worn string- in his left pocket, securing it and patting it with his hand to make sure it was there and safe. He then put on his white tattered shirt and grabbed his backpack off his kitchen counter; he stopped in the bathroom to view the newly developing bruises that lay all over his body; patches of his skin becoming green and blue. He grabbed a granola bar for breakfast, making no noise and saw his dad sleeping on the couch. He slowly crept to the door being as quiet as possible, fumbling with the lock as he felt the fresh fall air on his scars. He marched out towards the bus and got on. He could feel the stares as he walked down the bus aisle looking for a seat, he slowly made his way to the back and took a seat by himself as his peers had resumed to what they were doing. He had made it out of the house this morning without receiving a new bruise.
Last night had been rough, his dad had been out drinking again and came back with bottled up anger, which he took out on Henry causing a plethora of new bruises. But by this time it was a normal occurrence, he’d go out and drink then come back and beat him, and Henry always knew it was coming. Every since Henry’s mom died, his dad was always at the bar drinking away his sadness.
When his bus finally arrived at the school he was the last to get off, his head hanging down as he slowly made his way off the bus. When he walked passed Maria and Lauren, two girls in his grade, he ignored their comments and kept walking.
“Henry always wears that white tattered shirt,” Maria said with her arms crossed.
“Wouldn’t you think that he would change it up a bit? Or at least wash the alcohol scent out of the shirt?” stated Lauren her eyes rolling.
“It’s not like his family doesn’t have money either, that shirt brand is one of the most high end brands around here, at least they could get one that wasn’t all torn and stained with the money they have” Maria exclaimed.
“And there’s blood on that shirt, he said it was from when he fell of his bike, that’s what caused the tears too. So he should just toss the shirt and get a new one.”

Lauren’s hands fidgeting as she started to talk, “For being one of the richest kids at this school he sure as heck doesn’t show it. He always wears that shirt and never talks. He just carries that piece of glass that hangs on a string to all his classes.”
“It’s almost like he doesn’t belong here, he’s too shy, too different to fit in, he gives us a bad reputation.” Maria said.
“Part of me wants to feel bad for him, but he seems fine, he smiles at least, but he obviously is a clutz given the fact tripping and falling off his bike is what is responsible for his many bruises.”
“Yeah what’s up with that? They are all over him; he must really take some hard falls.” Lauren replied.
“I guess so, he just needs to leave, leave this school and this town, and he’s a disgrace.”
Henry was used to the people talking about him, he decided it was only fair that if he didn’t talk about his bruises and scars to people he could at least go along letting them talk about them. His school day always panned out the same, not talking to anyone then getting back on the bus to go home without a single word being said.
As soon as he came home from school his father wasn’t there, as usual but he had left a note stating that he would be out late at the bar and that there was a single bruised banana for him in the fridge for dinner. He pondered the thought of being that banana, only bruised on the outside, and his insides just happy and perfectly put together. Henry walked up stairs to his shattered mirror and didn’t recognize the face that stared back at him, all he saw was black and blue, dried blood, cuts and a broken little boy. He had finally decided that he deserved better and was going to try and talk to his father upon his return.

About five hours later, around 10:00pm he heard the garage door open. His drunken father stumbled through the door as if his legs were stuck in mud while throwing his keys on the marble counter and slamming the door behind him. He immediately started yelling, words that didn’t make sense came spewing out of his mouth. Henry saw how drunk his father really was and knew what was coming, a beating. He tried to run up to his bed but his father grabbed him by the arm and started swinging. This was Henrys cue,
Henry grabbed his father’s cold rough hand and pushed it away forcefully, backing away carefully “DAD!” Henry cried in fear horror and shock.
“WHY do you hit me? What did I do?! I’m sorry that mom died but it wasn’t my fault!” Henry screamed with tears flowing down his face. His father sat up puzzled, Henry was scared of what would happen next, would this make him even angrier or would he understand?
Slowly his dad got to his feet, grabbing onto the worn flower patterned sofa for extra support he pointed his finger at Henry,
“You, YOU do not talk to me like that, ever again or you know your consequences,” he said slurring his words.
With that Henry ran up to bed shaking and thinking of another approach that he could take to fixing things with his father this encounter didn’t stop him.
With another day at school gone, he made his way back home finding yet another note from his father, this time it read differently. Alarmed, Henry continued reading the note:

Henry, I am at work and will be home by 5, we need to talk about what happened last night. There is pizza in the fridge, see you at 5.


DAD
Henrys face read a mix of happiness and fear, this was his second chance to try and fix things and this time he could do it while his dad was sober. About 3 hours later Henry heard the sound of a car door slamming and a key in the lock, he ran down the stairs to see his father standing in the kitchen.
“How was your day at school?” Henry’s dad said.
“Uh… It was good thanks for asking,” Henry replied shocked at the fact he cared.
“Listen, last night you brought something up, and I think you do deserve an answer.”
“I hit you and I drink because I killed your mother, it was me. I was drunk and she was being beyond annoying and I cracked, I knew it was wrong of me I know I killed her, I killed her Henry, I couldn’t take it. I pulled the car over and hit her; I hit her so hard she immediately blacked out. By the time I got her home she was gone and just like that I was a murderer.”
Henry’s eyes were wide and glazed with tears a mask of anger overtook his face and his mouth couldn’t form the words he wanted to say but in his head they were loud and clear, all he could yell was “MURDERER!” He tried to get up to run upstairs but in one fluid motion his dad grabbed his arm, thinking he was about to be beat he ducked his head and started to whimper, all at once his dad let go and started crying.
“I did this to you; I made you afraid of me.” He said sobbing with his face in his hands.
Henry slowly backed away from his dad’s thinking he was now a ticking time bomb then angrily ran away shaking his head, leaving tears all over the carpet, and made his way up to his room. Standing in front of his shattered mirror he took his moms necklace out of his pocket and placed it around the top peg of the mirror, while a tear erupted from his eye.
That night was rough; all Henry could do was lay in bed staring at his ceiling through his blurred swollen eyes, thinking of how someone could just kill another person that they deeply loved. The next day at school went the same as all the rest.
Henry was furious for days, not a word said to his father, he didn’t come downstairs to eat or drink he just stayed locked up in his room coming out only to go to school. His dad hadn’t beaten him for 3 days now given the fact that he wouldn’t come out of his room and the fact that his dad started to ask for forgiveness. Forgiveness? Henry thought how does one forgive someone for killing their mother?!
When he saw his dad that day he wanted to run, run and never come back, but he knew how bad his dad really felt, every night he’d hear his dad crying on the bathroom floor, his tears heavily hitting the tiled floor, he lost his wife Henry thought, he can’t lose me too.
“I’m sorry I’m not mad at you and I just took all my anger out on you, none of this was your fault.” Henrys dad said to end his train of thought. Before he could get all of his words out Henry ran to him and hugged him, I love you is what he wanted to say, yet he still couldn’t get the words off his tongue into the open. There was still tension and anger present but Henry had to do this for his dad, he couldn’t lose his dad, and his dad couldn’t lose him they needed each other.
During the next few weeks there were some rough patches which were to be expected. Henry hadn’t fully forgiven his father, and wouldn’t for months to come, but he did the best he could. He could see that his dad was really trying, he got him new clothes so that the kids at school could stop making fun of him. His dad got new bananas for snacks, this time not bruised and Henry knew that’s what he looked like now, no bruises.

When Henry came home from school around a week later he found a new mirror sitting in the middle of the family room, sparkling and reflecting the sunlight coming in through the windows. “For Henry” it read on the bright yellow sticky note. Henry took a step back form the mirror fidgeting with his hands, a new mirror he thought, no longer shattered, no longer broken. He moved the new mirror to his bedroom carefully making sure not to hit it on anything. Removing his old one he had a smile on his face, he carefully looked at his reflection among the clear new glass, no bruises, no cuts, and no tears.