When the Tears Won't Fall

Genre: Angst/Drama

Rating: PG, for implied child abuse

Pairing (if any): None

Keywords: Tears, Pain, Façade

Disclaimer: The story was inspired by a very bad day at school. I was thinking about how desperate some people must get when they feel like they are powerless, and I decided to write something about it. This was the result.

The song belongs to the fabulous Sting. If you ever get the chance, you have to go see him in concert: the price is well worth it!

Dedication: This is dedicated to anyone who has ever felt powerless…you're not alone, and you are going to make it through.

Why should I?

Why should I cry for you?

Dark angels follow me

Over a godless sea

Mountains of endless falling,

For all my days remaining,

What would be true?

-Sting, "Why Should I Cry for You?"

~*~

It is impossible to cry when the tears refuse to be produced. You can howl dry, body-racking sobs, but you can't cry. You can't cleanse yourself of the pain with the salty water.

That's why I never cry: I don't want to lose the hurt and torment. It is the only protection I have from the harsh reality that is my life. It's about as far from perfect as a life can get without being over. But at this point, I sometimes think that everything would be better if it was done…finished.

They think I'm strong. But if they had ever broken down the ramparts around my heart, they would know that I'm weak. And I hate that weakness because I can't share it with anyone without losing some of the façade that I have spent years constructing. I can never cry; crying would stop the pain.

Nobody understands the meaning of pain. It's not the prick of a pin into your flesh or the harsh beating of a belt against your back: It's having to watch others suffer those bodily harms and realizing you can't do anything to stop it. That's pain, and that's what I go through every day of my life.

I don't know why he doesn't just treat him fairly; they would both be infinitely happier. I'd be infinitely happier. I can't stand seeing him treat my son in such a way. This wasn't supposed to be his destiny. Not my baby. He was not supposed to be subjected to such demoralizing events at such a susceptible age. He was going to be a good man, a strong man. Now he's just a little boy in a tough man's body.

I want to take him away from here, and set him free from all of the horrors that he has undergone since he was a toddler. But I can't: he knows it, I know it, and he knows it. That's why he's not afraid of beating him right in front of me; he and I both know that he'd just beat me if tried to stop it. He's never hit me before, but there's a first time for everything.

It has been twenty-five years to the day that I lost the only person I could ever rely on: myself. It is my anniversary, and I can cry neither tears of joy nor tears of sadness. I just want to leave: take my things and run away to a place where no one would ever bother me. And take him away from the cruel joke of a father bestowed upon him.

But I won't be able to leave until I can cry because, until that point, I will be able to block out the pain. I don't want to stop it anymore. I just want the tears to fall… Why won't they come down?

Maybe it's a good thing that I've never cried; I know I don't see half of the things that he does to my baby. That's my biggest problem: the love for him keeps me from seeing so much. And I need to see it to cry. And I need to cry to escape him. Which means I can't run away until I stop loving him… I guess I'll never get away then.

Author's Note: This is just a short little note…I don't have much to say.

The new semester has only been going on for a month, but my teachers are already piling on the projects. But I've been getting some great ideas for stories--if only I had time to write them instead of doing stupid Algebra projects that won't help me at any point in time… Never mind, you don't need to be subjected to the stupidity. Lucky ducks…

Anyway, I'll be coming up with lots of ideas, but who knows how long until I will actually be able to write and/or post them.

If anyone cares, I'm working on chapter two of "Deal". It is about a third of the way finished. After I finish it, I'll be sure to post another short story that I've had for the longest time. I would post it now, but I made myself a deal: I won't post it until I'm done with chapter two of "Deal"…so I may never post it, but…Oh well!

Hmm, I guess that wasn't as short of an A/N as I thought it would be.

Love ya'll!

Brittany Ü