Ludwig X Matthew

Matthew shuffled to his bed with a small novel in his hand, wearing a white T-shirt and his favorite red and white maple leaf boxers. It was only six but he figured he should go to sleep early before his phone started ringing. His brother was throwing a party and, no surprise here, Matt had not been invited. Every time Alfred threw a party, he got drunk and never failed to call a prank.

Matthew put the book on the small bedside table along with his glasses, clicked out the lamp, crawled into bed and snuggled under the thick pile of blankets. It was always cold in his house, and that suited him just fine. Pulling the blanket over his head, something suddenly dawned on him.

He was thinking back as far as he could remember. He couldn't think of one single time. Not once. Beginning to cry now, Matthew thought about how he'd never been truly happy. Fine time to be thinking this! Alone in his big house…He pulled his legs up to his chest, wrapped his arms around them and rested his chin on his knees as he sobbed.

As quickly as the tears came, they disappeared. Crying won't do any good, he'd found that out early on in life. All it succeeded in doing was upsetting him more. He wiped his eyes and curled up against his fluffy pillows. "Stupid Alfred…It's not fair…Throwing a big party and not even inviting his brother…Never even remembers-" He sniffled. "Over half the time he doesn't even remember my name!" Gradually, his sadness turned to anger. "Oh, maple!" He threw the blankets off and stormed down to the basement. Every step of the way, cursing his brother, the cold, the box he just stubbed his toe on. He cursed everything he could think of.

Matthew stomped down the stairs, flicked on the light, punched the wall next to the light switch, deepening the dent that was already there, and cursed his throbbing hand. He stormed to the back of the finished basement and turned on the light there.

There were four huge holes in the wall where he had kicked it, and one from when he smashed his head through. There was an old, broken freezer laying on its side, its sides and door all kicked in, and a severely beaten, duct taped sandbag hanging from a chain from the ceiling.

He had to find a better way to release his anger.

Another time though.

Right now he needed to punch something.

Hard.

Matt passed by the freezer, resisting the urge to kick it and went straight to the sandbag. Hit after hit after hit, he could hear a ripping as the duct tape began to peal off. A while ago, he had popped open one of its seams and spilled sand all over the floor. After he had calmed down, he took the sandbag, then almost empty, and had tried to sweep the sand up and put it back in. Then he duct taped it. It had lost a chunk of its mass and there was still sand on the floor, even now.

Matthew continued to curse under his breath as he hit it so hard it almost hit the ceiling. As it swung down, the chain broke and it fell to the floor with a loud 'thump.'

He stood there for a while, back arched, shoulders tense, fists tight, breath ragged. He collapsed to the floor in tears.

Always, always when he realized just how alone he was, he began to cry, then he thought of his brother which always made him angry. When he finished with the poor sandbag he always cried again. He hated the violent urges he got when he was angry. He was becoming like his brother. He hated it.

This had become a cycle that he repeated more and more often.

Cry. Rage. Punch. Cry.

Matt pulled himself up, vision blurred by tears. He calmed down considerably as he hobbled past the fallen freezer, kicked it, and then continued to the stairs. He only just lifted his foot to go up when he was hit by another wave of sobs that shook his whole body. He fell to the floor and curled up into a ball.

Crying didn't solve anything. Didn't make things better. Just made him feel worse. But what it did do, and he counted on this, was help him get to sleep.

He looked up at the wall clock. Almost nine.

Suddenly his entire body ached. Shoulders. Arms. Hands. Fingers.

Pain shot from his finger tips all the way to his spine. He was shaken by another fit of sobs, crying for what seemed like hours.

The last thing Matt heard before passing out was the phone ringing.