Chapter Three
Clayton
Standing in front of my house, staring at the entrance. The front door is the only way keeping me from the misery I live and feel every day.
My parents were fifteen when they had me.
Accidental pregnancy is hard but they should have been responsible enough.
They met at a party where everyone sold drugs, both young and reckless which resulted in my existence.
Their life at school wasn't easy. My father was the captain of the basketball team so he got away easily with all the commotions he caused, starting from selling drugs, to breaking into the school at night and stealing the equipment.
My mother lost herself between the smoke of weed, which she still does alongside antidepressant pills.
They didn't want me and still don't, I'm a burden to them even though I didn't ask to be born. They make me work for everything.
You want to go to school, then get us money.
The words of my father ring in my memory as his breath of alcohol hit my face. That night I went out and stole a neighbour’s cash and his wife’s wedding ring. My father sold them then asked me to get more so I can attend school and have a normal life as the other kids.
Same with food.
Clothes.
A mattress to sleep on.
Sometimes I understand that they’re still young and feel like I took away their ability to live their youth. Now at 25 they are forced to raise a kid they didn’t ask for.
They tried to get rid of me multiple times.
When my mother gave birth to me, she waited till the nurse left the room to let her rest. She got up and walked towards me, she grabbed my body, wrapping me in a towel as she walked out of the room hiding me from prying eyes then she walked into a different woman’s birth room, leaving me there.
The nurses wrote the time every baby got born so they knew I belonged to her.
Her plan failed but it wasn’t the last attempt.
When I was 5 years old, my parents had a huge fight, glasses breaking and my mother screaming.
“Tyson, I can’t live like this anymore!”
My father snaps and throws an empty vodka bottle, launching it to the wall as it shatters everywhere.
“I’m fucking done, Ruby. You always play the victim as if my life wasn’t ruined as well!”
My father’s head turns towards me, his eyes burning red with fury. I take a step back and raise my hand towards me to keep a distance between us.
“N-no.”
It was the only word I knew.
He lunged towards me, grabbing me by the neck.
“This little shit is the reason we are like this, and I’m fed up.
” his mouth foaming with anger. He raises me off the ground and I choke, looking at my mother hoping she would do anything but she never did.
She stood there looking at me with her hollow gaze as if it would be a relief to get rid of me.
I claw onto his hand, trying to get away.
He walks us out of the house and throws me into the car backseat.
He moves to the driver seat, yanking the door open and speeds away.
I hug my knees to my chest not sure where we are going but I don’t want to make a sound.
Maybe he will forget I’m here.
I try to stretch my neck so I can see from the window where we are going but I can’t.
My body snaps forward as the tires screech and we stop.
I had no time to realize what’s happening as the door beside me opens and I’m grabbed by the collar of my shirt.
I sob as I try to get away but my father’s grip is stronger.
We are in the middle of nowhere. The street is dark and all I can see is a faraway building that looks like an abandoned factory.
“N-no papa!” My face snaps to the side as my father backhands me. “Don’t call me that! What did we teach you? Answer me!”
“S-sir.”
They never liked me to call them mom and dad. As if it’s an insult or a reminder of their mistake.
He throws me away as my back hits metal and a musty smell fills my nostrils. I look up and see that he threw me onto a dumpster, surrounding me with rubbish.
“You will stay right here and never come back.”
He walks away as I breathe heavily, watching as he gets into the car and drives away leaving me alone to waste.
I crawl away from the dumpster and look around, hoping someone will save me but I have no one to go to and if I stay here, there are people who are worse than my parents in this town.
That day I walked back home and took a beating from my father but at least it was the only place I had.
I take a deep breath letting the memory vanish away as I grab the handle and step inside the house.
The smell of alcohol, dirty laundry and sweat fills the living room as smoke fogs the air.
My mother sits cross legged onto the worn out maroon couch.
Weed smoking as she watches the television, I close the door behind me.
She doesn’t bother to look at me “Did you get anything useful today?” Her voice raspy and I don’t answer.
Heading towards the stairs as it creaks underneath my feet and then I hear it.
The sound of the bed creaking and heavy breathing as I stop and turn back downstairs, not wanting to see my father sleeping with my mother’s friend again.
The first time I caught them I thought my mother would care but she didn’t. Her brain is rotten from the drugs she inhales daily.
I walk towards the kitchen and see the pot of soup I made is moldy, grabbing it and opening the tap water, letting it rinse.
“We have no food for tomorrow so you better figure it out, you have a roof over your head so you better make yourself useful.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I clean up the kitchen as best as I can and make a note that I need to steal something from the grocery store to eat, before my father notices and takes his time to remind me of my place.
My throat feels dry as I remember that I have given the water I collected to Elsie. My lips twitch into a smile as I see an image of her face in the back of my mind.
She’s the prettiest girl I have ever seen. I already miss the way everything quietened around us when she looks at me. The way she described all the things she liked and her love for her parents. I hated the way she was disappointed they couldn’t have their camp like they usually do.
My thoughts were lost in her sweet memory as a hand held my shoulder and spun me around. I look up at my father’s eyes, he’s shirtless, only wearing pants.
“Why didn’t you get anything useful tonight? We need the money and it’s your responsibility.”
I stay silent.
I learned that staying silent would usually end the misery earlier. The constant begging for him to stop would aggravate him.
He looks into my eyes and snarls. “Where are your glasses?”
“I lost them.”
He grabs my hair as I hold onto his arm but I don’t show the pain. “That’s how you show your gratitude huh?! Letting the shit we get you get lost and we have to pick up after your mistakes.”
I shake my head as I see him raising his hand and strikes me across the face, my teeth pierce through the inside of my cheek. The taste of blood fills my mouth. I hunch over as he knees me in the stomach and I spit out blood. He pushes me onto the floor and points at me.
“Listen carefully, if tomorrow morning I don’t find that you got us money. I will end you. You will wish you hadn't come back, got it?”
Clutching my ribs as I nod but he kicks my face. “I asked you a question.”
Tears blur my vision as I see a tooth laying beside me in a pool of splattered blood, pointing my tongue to the roof of my mouth as I feel the missing tooth.
“Ye-s sir.”
I whisper, afraid to raise my voice and anger him further.
Everything hurts.
“Can you both just shut up for a second, I can’t hear the show.” my mother coughs unbothered with her back towards us.
My father chuckles, shaking his head as he runs his fingers through his dark brown hair and looks over at her.
“Aren’t you damn tired of watching this stupid show? Why haven’t you gone to work in a while?”
“The weekend tips are the best so I’m just taking a break.”
My mother works in an underground strip club but she doesn’t earn much money and the earnings are usually spent on her drugs.
My father was the one who encouraged her to try it.
I never understood their relationship. I have seen shows and searched up the meaning of emotions and love was the most complex one.
Love should be unconditional but people make an effort to keep the love going, it never made sense to me.
My parents do not love me as I do not love them or maybe I do.
I wouldn’t know.
To keep a roof over my head, I steal everyday and give it to them. But I saw how other families function.
Dads pick up their kids on their shoulders, play soccer with them. Moms teach them kindness and take care of them when they are sick.
Maybe it’s the result of being a mistake. But they weren’t forced to go to that party to get drugs. They weren’t forced to keep doing it instead of taking care of themselves and the child they conceived.
It was never my fault even though they make me pay for it every single day.
“Well I have told you before, he can work through it. You would be surprised how much some people would pay to have a taste of the forbidden and it can be kept a secret.”
My mother’s words carry me out of my thoughts as I push myself to get up.
“Well you have a point but no one would want him with the bruises and shit.” My father replies and my heart stops.
They were discussing selling me to the disgusting people who like to touch children.
I shake my head violently.
“I will get money! Lots of it too. I will steal as much as I can, I promise. Please!”
“Shut up!”
I snap my mouth shut as my lips tremble and I hold onto my ribs, blood spilling onto my chin.
My mother holds her temple with her fingers, massaging. “he’s giving me a headache”
“We will consider it when you get the money.” my father smirks as he walks to the couch and grabs the joint she was smoking, taking a drag of it and exhaling through his nose.
I nod frantically and he tilts his chin towards the stairs.
I stumble as fast as I can towards them, taking one step at a time while holding onto the railing.
I pass my parent’s bedroom as a tanned skin woman stands, leaning onto the doorway.
Her body wrapped in the bedsheets, her eyes hazel and her dark hair curly.
“Hello sweetheart, is your dad coming back up?” Her voice is soothing.
I look away quickly and head towards the wooden ladder, I grab onto it firmly as I climb into the attic.
The only place that I know they won’t bother entering. The moonlight from the small window built onto the triangular wall is the only source of light here.
Once I reach the top I roll myself onto the ground and take a deep breath letting all my pent up fear go as my body shakes and a sob breaks out of me.
I move my hand over my ribs feeling the broken bone as I try to adjust it but I don't have the strength to take care of myself now.
I crawl to the mattress, the floor is scattered with papers with my last research.
I was the first in my class but I thought our material was pointless. I always like to learn more.
Maybe someday I will get my degree and I can build myself a home and invite Elsie to live with me.
I would paint our house with all the colors she likes.
Would she like that?
I liked her company a lot and I hope she did too. Minutes pass by, lost in my daydreaming. I finally looked into the window, the clock underneath it shows its 10 pm.
I sit up as I flinch from the pain. And I already can feel a bruise forming onto the side of my face.
I wonder what Elsie is doing right now, maybe she’s safe asleep in her bed. I imagine her bed to be painted with multiple flowers and soft pillows comfy and the blanket wrapping around her in warmth. The image of her in the embrace of her parents rewinds into my mind.
I wanted them to see me, inviting me into the warmth of their home. I want to taste something made with love, not just a package that I have to heat up.
I’m glad she knows what it feels like. One day I will give her more if she wants to stay with me. I want to show her that I can be good enough for her.
I crawl to the pile of clothes I keep beside me and search through them, grabbing a black sweater and putting it over my head. I didn’t care about my fractured ribs or bruises.
I had a goal in mind and I have to do it now.
Grabbing a small backpack, I make sure I have everything I need. I pull it over my shoulder and slowly get down from the attic, reaching the stairs, taking measured steps. I know which places that creak. I learned when to know my parents are close and differentiate them by their footsteps.
I see my father sleeping onto the couch, snoring. I tip toe gently past him. His snoring stops as he scratches his head and I hold my breath hoping he's not awake. Once he stops moving and his snoring continues, I sigh in relief and open the front door.
I need to see her again.