Memories of a Star

This is a good story so far. I can tell you've put a lot of time into writing it which makes it all the better. I'm unsure of where this story is going at the moment, but I look forward to it! You are definitely a talented writer, your description is effortless. Thank you for putting this up so that others may enjoy it as well. Keep on writing.


--Maya

Hello there! I shall be reviewing this piece of work this fine day

I pinned Star to the ground. He froze, squirming the slightest bit. "Get off," he squeaked. "Plea-se," #FF0000 ">(I don't see the real point in having the dash.)
I looked him in the eye, and another memory flashed before my eyes.

Star's Uncle pinned him to the garage wall, keeping him there effortlessly as Star squirmed."Go away!" Star pleaded. "Please," #FF0000 ">(Now first impressions are very important within writing. You have to grab the readers attention of else they will become lazy. You've done a pretty good first impression. )
His Uncle ignored him even as Star continued to squirm, squeaking in protest when his Uncle forced his hand down Star's pants. Star moaned in obvious discomfort and pain. Five minutes passed, but his Uncle didn't stop. Star continued to squirm, wincing whenever his Uncle hit him to make him still. Ten minutes, a sick, perverted grin grew on his Uncle's face and he finally released Star, who shuddered and ducked into the corner of the garage as his Uncle disappeared into the house without a word. #FF0000 ">[color=#BF0000](Now this is a hard topic to write about. It made me a little uncomfortable however I think you approach it in an okay manor.) [/color]
I stared at Star. He seemed unaware that I had seen the memory. I rolled off of him, asking as I did so: "Star...your Uncle...does he...touch...you?"

Star froze. "No," he lied, trying to keep his voice steady.

"Star, I saw the memory. Tell me the truth."

Star didn't meet my gaze. "I have no clue what you're talkin' about, Payne. Nothing's going on."

I laid a hand on his shoulder, digging up another memory to watch.

His Uncle struck him across the face with his fist, a genuine leather whip in his other hand. He brought the whip slashing across Star's stomach-Star yelped, trying to block it as another strike snapped across his chest. His bone-thin body made him look weak and starving as ever, unable to even try to defend himself. His Uncle struck him again, kicking him in the chest and cuffing him, sending him toppling against the base of the kitchen island. Star cried out in p ain #FF0000 ">(bit of a typo there, hahha!) as the scabs on his back burst. He closed his eyes, trying not to flinch as his Uncle hit him yet again. "Chores, now." was all his Uncle said, before disappearing out of the kitchen into a room upstairs. Star shakily got to his feet and began to wipe up the spilled blood with his shirt, soaking the crimson liquid up and staining it on his white tee.

Anger swelled inside me. "That bastard!" I exclaimed. Star flinched, then tried to hide it as though nothing happened. I ground my teeth. "And you! How could you just let him do this to you?" I shouted. He didn't look me in the eye.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

My anger immediately disappeared. "No, I'm sorry. Don't apologize. It's nothing you've done." I told him.

"No...the beatings I deserve because I was doing my chores too slow." he replied.

"What about him starving you? And the molesting? Do you deserve that, too? Do you deserve that because you didn't do some stupid chores?"

He didn't look me in the eye. "You're wrong. Neither of those happened..." His voice trailed off, as though he were unsure of himself.

"Don't lie to me, Star," I arched an eyebrow at him.

"I can lie if I want to,"he muttered, thinking I couldn't hear. I pretended not to.

"Star, if your Uncle is treating you like this-"

"Why do you care? Why does it concern you?" Star said, that dead look in his eye like when I first saw him. He didn't sound angry or anything: just sad, like he didn't care, and honestly curious. I stared at him.

"Why do I care? Why do I care?!" the anger reappeared, showing through my rising voice. I yanked down the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows, revealing the crowded cuts and scars. Grabbing his wrist, I pointed at them accusingly. "You cut over this, Star. He hits you, he treats you like a slave, and yet you act like nothing's happening. You just take out a knife and carve your skin. You may think I don't notice it, or Ced doesn't notice it, but we do. Just like how everybody notices the bruises your uncle gives you. How timid and scared and un-trusting you are. You try to ignore it, but the more he hits and touches you the worse it gets. And you're asking why I, your best friend, would care?"

He didn't answer me.