The Felicia State

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Young Adult  |  House: Booksie Classic
(PG selected as this will have swearing and mentions weapons!)The Felicia State: Define as a moment of extreme euphoria caused by a multitude of events in life.
Felicia: Meaning happy things/times, or happy in general.

This will be a series of short stories following different characters, some of which will somehow interact with one another.

Submitted: July 03, 2015

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Submitted: July 03, 2015

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[THIS IS NOT FINISHED. I would like to know what people think of this so far, please excuse poor grammar. I may have switched perspectives by accident as well.] 1: Oblivion Keaton pushes the thick light grey blanket down from over his eyes to peek out from under it, turning his head against the pillow to see the time. 3:20 p.m. He whipped the blanket and sheet off, throwing his legs up to help, shoving a pair of converse on. Rushing around the small bedroom, the 5 foot ten male of 16 years of age hops about the floor to slip into a pair of bleached jeans and a blue t-shirt. Just as he goes to open the door, Keaton took a step to the right to see his reflection in the mirrior nailed to the wall at eye level; using his hands to run them though his golden blonde locks to create a tousled look. Immediately afterwards, he swung the door open, slid down the railing of the stairs and stode to his mother sitting on the couch. Surprising her with a hard kiss on the cheek from behind, \"I'm going for a run, need me to get something?\" \"I think we need more Ibeprofen, my migraines have gotten worse this summer.\" She says softly, offering a gentle smile to her son just as Keaton's father slowly comes from the kitchen; looking to Keaton. \"I'll pick some up then,\" Keaton says slowly, his eyes locked on his father before looking back to the mother, pulling himself away. He hurried to the door, slipping out without a moment to spare. Though he stood at the other side, as if waiting.

Keaton looks to the bottom of the door frame and turns away, shaking his head before beginning to do a light jog. As he jogs along the sidewalk, he watches a black mustang drive by all the way to his house where it stopped a few feet away. But Keaton kept a steady jog, soon arriving at a nearby drugstore tended to by an elderly woman.

\"Afternoon,\" Keaton muttered, flashing a smile as he entered, strolling on through the short aisles. \"How is your mum?\" Asked the woman, stocking a shelf with some bottles and jars. \"Good,\" Keaton began, stopping to eye a bottle of anti-anxiety pills which gained curiosity considering such things weren't sold without a prescription. \"Very good.\" \"Oh, you can tell me, Keat, I can keep a secret.\" Keaton chuckled lightly as he glanced to her whilst picking up the 20ml bottle of what was called Xanutrin, \"I swear, everythin's fine.\" He replied, slipping it into a pocket against his thigh followed by his hand. \"She said otherwise a couple weeks ago, you're here for the Ibeprofen aren't you?\" His gray eyes studied the woman as he got the bottle of the said medicine, scrunching his nose. \"You bein' friends with mum don't mean we're friends too.\" Keaton snarled, getting out a twenty from his pack pocket which he smacked onto the register. \"Keep the change.\" He stormed his way to the door which he shoved forward with a shoulder, \"And don't call me Keat.\" Once more, Keaton jogged back home, the black Mustang gone which meant his father most likely was as well-- causing him to start running in fear something may have happened. He ran up the stone path way starting from the front black metal gate closing the yard, pushing through the door that wasn't completely closed only to see his mother crocheting something.

\"...Mum.\" Keaton began, panting softly. He waited for a response, slowly closing the door behind him but kept his eyes on her. \"Mum, if you're gonna crochet, you should turn off the telly.\" Now he moves to her in short quick steps, but his mother kept her head down. Looking her over, Keaton could see her shaking hands and trembling shoulders. The boy could feel his blood beginning to boil as it clicked immediately on what happened. Carefully, he lifts his mother's head by the chin, using the same hand to gently move hair away from her left eye, seeing it already turn purple and blue. \"Keat, don't say anything...Please.\" His mother pleaded, reaching up to hold his biceps firmly; tear filled eyes gazing up into his. \"Mum you know he's..!\" Keaton turned his head away, chewing at his lip. \"Everytime that bloody car shows, he doesn't come back until noon the next day.\" \"He doesn't do this everyday, you know this. I just...I can't divorce him.\" Her grip loosened, dropping her head. He stared at her for a short moment then set the bottle of the Ibeprofen on the coffee table. Keaton moves to the kitchen, peeling off his shoes and let them lay where they may. He opened the fridge, finding a can of Carling that failed to be hidden behind a carton of milk. Quietly taking it, he allows the fridge to close itself just as he tiptoes upstairs; sneaking into his bedroom, pushing the door closed with his heel.

After opening the can, he sets it upon his nightstand, flopping onto the bed-- proceeding to dig for the bottle in his pocket. \"Must've been snuck in by someone..\" Keaton says to himself, bouncing his legs slightly. He scrambles to open the bottle, dumping a couple pills into his hand which he pops into his mouth, chugging them down with the ice cold alcohol. A long, heavy sigh of relief escapes from him, holding the can by the rim and rests his arms on his knees, hearing his mother crying as quietly as possible downstairs. Keaton takes a swig, slamming the can down before ripping the shirt off over his head, patting around for his phone. \"I had it last night..\" he muttered, and lifts his pillow, seeing a Taurus Model 605, swiping the pillow back over it almost instantly. \"Shhhhhit..!\" Keaton hissed, dropping his head into his arms, fingers curling and gripping his hair. He jumps to his feet, tossing around dirty clothes on the floor to find a pair of jeans with a particular amount of weight on it. Finding his phone, the blonde hurries to find a number when his mother knocks on the door; causing him to jump. Frantic, Keaton snatches the gun from under the pillow, wrapping it in an old blanket from his childhood while holding the phone to his ear with his shoulder, stuffing the weapon under his bed.

\"I'm coming in,\" His mother says softly, her voice cracking. So he races into the bathroom just to the left of his bed, closing door as she enters. He hears someone answer on the other line, and tries whispering a weak hello. But only gets shuffling of movement and such. \"Hey..Hey, George..\" Keaton whispered, jumping at the sound of gunshots being heard from the other end and the phone smacking into the ground. \"Keat, are you okay hun?\" She asks him and he swallowed hard, setting his phone on the counter of the sink. \"Can you open the door, so I can talk to you face to face?\" \"Uh, yeah,\" Keaton says slowly, leaning forward to grab the door knob, pulling the door open for his smiling mother. \"What's wrong? I mean...yeah,\" \"I think we should go out for dinner tonight, something special.\" His mother suggests, leaning against the door frame. \"Just us two?\" \"Why not?\" \"Well...It's been a while since you've seen your friends..\" \"You don't even like Heather and Lynn, and you've known them since you were just a little baby.\" \"Doesn't mean I can't have a meal with them. Just lemme shower,\" Keaton lightly touches the purple skin around his mother's left eye with his fingertips. \"I'll work on covering that up, kay?\" The two smile to one another and she nodded, slowly turning away to exit the room as he closes the bathroom door quietly; exhaling hard as soon as it was closed, looking towards his phone.


© Copyright 2018 Aura Kritter. All rights reserved.

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