A mother sets her priorities as her children and then the rest of her family. Following that, is the job she must dedicate herself to as much as she dedicates her heart to her children, because
this job is what holds the threads of their clothes together and what prevents their stomachs from eating itself inside out. The importance of their happiness is what a mother strives to maintain
to the best of her ability.
However, things can get out of control, to the point no motherly instinct or hope with all her caring love can hold together.
"I've lost it all, because I can't keep my mouth shut." the smell of the intoxicating scent of cigarette smoke lingered in the small room. It suffocated her, but she was long used to it by now. "I just... I just wanted to let him know, but he only got annoyed." the quiet room was filled only of the sounds of sobbing, a raspy breathing voice, and the exhaling of hot, cigarette-induced breath.
Her eyes were bloodshot, wet and her face was tingling, cheeks scarlet and eyelids heavy. This was a mother, who had found herself in one of those situations that she could not control, no matter how hard she tried, no matter how much she loved her children. "It's my fault, isn't it. Because I can't be quiet." she spoke to her son in self-pity, she could not praise herself for anything, she could not blame anyone but herself. It was all her, and this is what she believed.
Her son, who could not exhale a solution to her problem with each breath of the cigarette he smoked, could only sit there quietly without even providing a sympathetic glance to his mother. But he cared, he cared so much it hurt to pretend that he was turning a cold shoulder. But his mother would not accept sympathy either way, there was no pleasing a perfectionist like her.
"...Asciticus," she cried his name, but he did not face her. "How am I going to take care of your little brothers?" she broke into her indecent sobbing again, barely able to make out the words. "...I can't."
Her son was twenty-three, attempting to have a job of his own in order to help his mother. Where was his father in this? Dead, and a dead man can't work. Now that his mother had lost her job because of a case of harassment she had attempted to report to her boss, he too, worried for what was to become of their family that lived in an old apartment that was small and the only door around was the entrance door. There were no doors to any other rooms, there were just curtains hung up in replacement. The rooms were dimly lit, with a light bulb with no decorative casing or lampshade around them, there wasn't much. There never was.
Those bastards at that company didn't know who they were firing. His mother was a hard worker, and it was a damn shame they just threw her away, because they had just lost a valuable asset if they wanted to progress any further in their sales. But it didn't matter now, it was their loss... but also theirs, and Asciticus knew, the party hurting the most right now was them, and not that selfish, careless company.
"...I'm going back home." Asciticus said in a barely audible voice as he stood from the floor, pulling his arm away from his crying mother. He didn't mean to sound so cold, he didn't mean any of it. He just... he just wanted to get away from this and try to search for a solution already.
"Asciticus, please stay..." his mother begged while looking up at his face. She really did raise a fine boy who grew to be six feet and four and a half inches, but his personality... at one point he was a cheerful boy with only humble things to say but eventually he had grown to a vengeful, conniving man of an acidhead.
He didn't answer his mother, he had planned to solve her problem without word to her, and he pulled away from her who had grabbed onto his ankle in hopes of holding him down, but of course, she couldn't manage that. Exiting his apartment, he could only listen to the quieting of his mother's crying as he distanced himself further and further away from the now closed door. He walked down flights of unkempt stairs and past broken, dirty windows and at last he had made his way outside where the air didn't smell like weed or cigarettes like the apartment stairwells.
He pulled out the charm of his necklace from out of his shirt, it was a small square shaped locket, and upon opening it, revealed small also square shaped lysergic acid diethylamide blots, or rather, acid tabs. He debated on whether to place one of these blots inside his mouth now, but he sourly closed the locket and put it back inside of his shirt, deciding it'd be better to see things that aren't there and be schizophrenic later.
Mumbling few regrets beneath his breath, he stuck a cigarette in his mouth to ease his oral fixation and lit it, smoking a new one and bitterly tossing aside his lighter which was now out of fluid. Ignoring the neighborhood drug dealer down the block, he turned the opposite direction, and made his way downtown.
The walk was short but it didn't take long for him to realize his legs were cold, his hands were barely able to be felt, and his cheeks and eyes were stinging against the wind. He endured it, seeing how he had dealt with worse mishaps in his life and stuffed his hands inside his coat pockets, and entered the warm air of an infamous coffee shop by the silly name of "Project Coffee". It was still fairly early in the morning, not many people were here except for the few early working class risers who needed a cup of the stuff before starting their day. Despite the fact that Asciticus' body was not like these people who craved the legal drug, he wanted to drink it anyway. A cigarette left his mouth with no taste, but still, his tongue felt bitterness.
The man at the cash register noticed Asciticus on line, recognized his face, and smiled at him, but tapped on his lips with two fingers twice, reminding the chain smoker that there was no smoking allowed.
Groaning distastefully, Asciticus put out the cigarette, and reluctantly threw it away.
This was Asciticus' usual coffee spot, the workers there knew him by face, name, and of course that usual smell of cigarettes that followed him around. His name was odd anyway, there was no way
they could forget it. Not to mention the strange air around him was somewhat menacing yet mysterious, to the extent that they were intimidated, but curious all at once.
He was second in line now, slightly impatient and antsy because he no longer had a cigarette to smoke, and he needed a new lighter too. His hands seemed to be blindly searching through his pockets for perhaps another lighter he had overlooked. "Asciticus, come on, you're holding up the line." said the cashier, calling him up casually with that toothy grin he'd have to keep up early in the morning for the tired customers he'd have to act friendly to.
Asciticus mumbled a quick apology, walked up to the cash register and said as if in routine, "Medium, three sugars, and cream. The usual." he took out his wallet and he knew money was tight now, it looked like he'd have to go out selling LSD on his own tonight to pay off rent. He pulled out three dollars, he already knew the price of his coffee, but the cashier told him it anyway. He gave him the money, and although he should've taken the change, he told the man to put it in the tip jar, not out of generosity, but the extra change was irritating to carry around. Asciticus took his coffee and gave a two fingered wave to the cashier, not even bothering to manage a verbal farewell.
Stepping away from the cash register and making his way to the exit of the coffee shop, he stood outside, a brooding look on his face because of the cigarettes that no longer existed in his possession. He lifted the flap on the lid of his coffee, now able to smell the aroma of the cup’s contents, feeling its warmth lift from the inside up.
As he indulged in the pleasures of the cup of coffee with all his senses but taste, he noticed in the corner of his eye, a figure of a person in the distance. Normally, Asciticus wouldn’t give the time of day to look at a random person in the street for longer than a second, but he had also took into mind that the person was surrounded by other people, people who seemed... rather different.
It was clear that the figure that took Asciticus’ gaze away from his beautiful cup of coffee was indeed male, with a slim body and jet black, dyed hair to boot. And it was also clear, that this dark haired boy in what appeared to be expensive threads was being harassed.
But Asciticus didn’t want to play hero today, he never did unless it really concerned him, but this situation didn’t, so he set aside the empty role to be filled out by someone else. Then again, Asciticus had the feeling it wouldn’t be, because that’s just the way things worked in this part of town. Apathetic to that very true fact, he turned a cold shoulder from the boy who seemed to stare at him from far away past his the trouble-makers, with a long, hopeful gaze in the possible idea that Asciticus would save him. But he looked down in disappointment, noting that the man who began to distance himself further and further away from his situation was indeed not a hero.
Asciticus could hear the mixed sound of a whimper and a scream, which followed a blow to the face by what he assumed to be a fist. He didn’t bother confirm it, because he didn’t bother to turn around.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: So here’s my first story submitted to Booksie! I’m sure there are plenty of homophobes out there, but that’s okay, they don’t need to step near this story, and if they know what’s good for them, they won’t! On a side note, would anyone like to guess who that boy that Asciticus decided not to save is? (:
© Copyright 2017 traumatism. All rights reserved.
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