In The Eye of the Beholder | Jonathan Crane

August 1990

Because Hell, Hell is for children

And you know that their little lives can become such as mess.

-Hell is for Children (Pat Benatar)

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"Were you in the chapel again?" I asked when Jonathan winced as his back touched the ground. He nodded.

The first time I had seen his scars I hadn't known what they were from. After much prodding from me, he finally told me where they came from. His Grandmother put him into an older church and let the birds attack him. I almost vomited after hearing this confession.

It was disgusting.

"Your dad hurt you again," he added. I noticed his gaze wandering to my wrist. I slid my sleeve higher.

"He was in a bad mood. I guess I said something he didn't like. Anyway, he only grabbed me too tightly. Your grandmother puts you into an old church and lets birds tear your back apart," I argued.

"Doesn't make what your father does any better."

"Dad isn't always bad. He can actually be an amazing father. It's only when he's angry. Your grandmother is always a bitch," I defended myself.

"I stand by what I said. It isn't right for him to hurt you."

"Look, I know! But most of the time he's kind and caring and loving. So when he does hit me I don't do anything about it. Because it isn't all the time!" I paused and said softly, "I can handle that."

Jonathan didn't respond. Instead, he asked his own question.

"Have you ever thought about leaving?" he asked, turning to look at me.

"I have. But I probably won't yet. I'd have nowhere to go. I'll wait until I graduate. What about you?"

"I have no desire to stay here, but for the same reasons as you, I stay," Jonathan said. I took in a breath and laid in the grass beside him.

"Jonathan, if either of us had the chance to leave, would we go together?" I asked.

"I don't see why we couldn't," Jonathan answered lightly.

"Really, Jonathan. Would we go together?" I asked again. He breathed heavily.

"I can't promise that I would go with you."

Somehow I knew he would say that. Even though he tolerated me, I knew he preferred to be alone. I knew he wouldn't always want me around. Even if it hurt to hear.

We lay silent in the grass for what felt like hours though it couldn't have been longer than a few minutes. I turned my head to look at Jonathan. He stared at the sky, probably wishing he could leave this God forsaken place. I wished I could leave too.

"We're kids Jon. We shouldn't be wishing we could leave yet," I told him. "We shouldn't be in Hell yet."

"Hell's for children, Amber. Didn't you know that?" he answered.

I didn't know that. But I agreed with him. Hell wasn't for the sinners. Hell was for the innocent. Hell was for the ones who could do nothing but force themselves to keep fighting. Hell was for people like Jonathan and me.