029~ TO NAVIGATE
1464 Words
Lucas
"I don't think you get it, Ruby. I don't want you having the delusions that there is ever a chance between us. And no, she isn't a toy, neither is she someone I will get over, not now, not ever. So don't wait for me," I asserted, turning to leave.
However, Ruby, desperate to cling onto any semblance of hope, wrapped her arms around me and hugged me tightly. "You can't do this to me, Lucas. I loved you before her. How bcould you be so cruel to me?" she cried.
"We both know that you don't, so stop pretending," I said.
She pulled away from me, and I walked away.
"It won't last. Whatever you think you have going on with her won't last, and I will be here waiting for you." She shouted behind me, and I turned to her; she had a big smile on her face.
How did I not know that I was surrounded by crazy women before?
•••
Thirsty and groggy, I rose from my bed, only to realize that the nanny had once again forgotten to leave water for me. I decided to venture out of my room, the shadows of the night veiling the house in an eerie silence.
Upon reaching the bottom of the stairs, I gazed upward, contemplating if my mom had returned. Her late-night arrivals had become a pattern, I was getting used to.
As I proceeded towards the kitchen in search of water, an unexpected sight unraveled before me in the dimly lit living room. My mom lay on the couch, entangled with a man.
Stunned, I stood there, an unwitting witness to a scene that shouldn't have met my eyes. The man, catching sight of me, abruptly rose, his face contorted with a mix of surprise and irritation. He directed a sharp outburst towards my mother, his furious voice filling the room, laced with disbelief and anger.
"Why the hell is a kid in your house? Didn't you say you lived alone?" he scolded, hastily adjusting his disheveled clothes.
In an attempt to defuse the escalating tension, my mom hurriedly apologized, "I am sorry, Mr. Mill. I forgot my sister left her kid here." She tried to pacify the enraged man, but his expression remained hardened.
Wide-eyed, I gasped as he violently shoved my mom onto the couch. "Mom!" I exclaimed, fear and confusion trembling in my voice.
Caught in the chaos, the man turned his attention towards my mom with a stern inquiry. "Is he your son?" he demanded, his eyes narrowing.
Flinching at the sudden scrutiny, my mom's gaze shot daggers in my direction. I had inadvertently angered her, as she vehemently denied any connection.
"He isn't my son. Why the hell would I have that brat as a son?" she screamed, her disheveled hair falling across her face, concealing her eyes.
Despite the harsh words, I could sense her tears. I had made Mom cry again. The weight of her disdain bore down on me, and the label of being a "bad kid" echoed in the hollow spaces of my conscience.
"We should meet again at my office tomorrow," the man declared before abruptly leaving.
"I am sorry, Mom," I apologized, standing in the silent aftermath.
She sat there, a heavy silence enveloping the room. Suddenly, without warning, laughter bubbled up from within her. She pushed aside the tangled strands of her hair, revealing a face marked by wild intensity. Her eyes closed briefly, and as they reopened, a hateful glare replaced the laughter.
It pierced through me, and an involuntary shiver ran down my spine. Taking a step back, I watched as she stood up abruptly, her movements erratic and unpredictable. She rushed toward me, her face contorted with a mix of anger and instability. The air thickened with tension as I braced myself for what would unfold next.
"I should have killed you the moment I had the chance; all you have done is bring bad luck to me," she screamed, her grip tightening as she pushed me against the wall. A hiss of pain escaped me as the wound on my back met the wall harshly.
How did I get that wound on my back again?
"Do you ever get tired of tormenting me? Do you know what it took me to get this opportunity?" She continued to scream, her hits raining down on me as I cried, apologizing for causing her pain.
"I let his disgusting hands touch me, and you had the guts to ruin everything for me, you bastard!" Her accusations echoed in the room, each word laced with resentment and rage. The weight of her anger pressed against me, and I felt the full force of her emotional turmoil unleashed.
The scent of alcohol lingered in the air as I could tell she had been drinking. Drunk mom was different; she became violent and never remembered anything she did the next day.
Her hands wrapped around my neck, and my trembling fingers clawed desperately at hers in a frantic attempt to break free. Panic surged through me, the inability to breathe intensifying the terror.
"Mom... please," I managed to choke out, the pressure on my neck muffling my words, rendering my plea barely audible amidst the suffocating grip.
She uttered chilling words through tears, her grip tightening, "Die! You bastard. Please just die." The desperation in her voice sent shivers down my spine.
I didn't want to die, especially not at the hands of my own mother.
The echoes of the nightmare lingered in my mind as I jolted awake, hands instinctively reaching for my neck. The sensation of her hands constricting around my throat was still hauntingly palpable. Cold sweat coated my skin, and the room enveloped me in darkness.
Closing my eyes, I took slow, deliberate breaths, leaning against the headboard as I attempted to make sense of the unsettling dream. It felt too real to be merely a creation of my subconscious.
Why would I dream of my mother attempting to strangle me? Neglect, yes, but laying her hands on me in such a violent manner seemed alien to the reality I could recall.
The cold water cascaded over my body in the shower, but the chill couldn't compete with the lingering unease from the vivid nightmare. Leaning against the shower wall, I grappled with the unsettling feeling that the dream held more weight than a mere figment of my imagination. It clung to my thoughts like an unwelcome specter.
In an attempt to divert my mind, I pondered Aria. The promise to call her after meeting Ruby now pressed on me with guilt. Had she tried reaching out while I slept? The worry that she might be overthinking things settled like a weight on my chest. Resolving to call her once out of the shower, I sought solace in the idea of hearing her voice, hoping it could dissipate the haunting remnants of the dream.
A surge of frustration gripped me. Why did it seem like misfortune was closing in just as I dared to pursue happiness? My mother's cynical words echoed, questioning whether I deserved happiness. Yet, despite the doubt, the yearning for happiness persisted, a beacon amid the shadows that threatened to engulf me.
As I changed the sheets, my phone vibrated on in my pants, and with a frown, I retrieved it from my back pocket, noting an unfamiliar number on the caller ID. Who the hell was reaching out to me now?
Hesitant, I answered the call, and a chill swept over me when I heard her voice. The last thing I needed at this moment was to confront her, especially not after the haunting dream that still clung to my thoughts.
"Why can't I reach you? Did you blacklist me?" Her voice, a sharp and accusatory edge, pierced through the phone.
Frustration surged within me, and I couldn't contain my own sharp response. "Why the hell are you calling me?" I retorted, my words echoing with an intensity matching the turbulent emotions within.
"I am your mother, you asshole! What did you say to your father? Thirteen years with him, and you think you can survive without me. I gave you the life you are living right now, you ungrateful bastard!"
"Should I spend my entire life feeling guilty because you gave birth to me? Should I dedicate my existence to pleasing you just to earn a bit of your love? Did I commit a crime by loving you despite how broken you left me?" I screamed, the words tearing from my chest, pain echoing through every syllable. The weight of manipulation and years of emotional turmoil surged in the air, leaving a bitter taste of resentment and longing.
- Writer
