Disclaimer: NOT MINE!
So, uh, yeah. What am I supposed to say? And sorry if this is disorganized and... yeah. :c
Most children don't know real fear. They know monsters and boogey-men hiding under their bed and in their closet. Most children see the mysterious shadow in the corner of their bedroom at night, but they only had to scream for mommy or daddy and theproblem was solved. Most children hadn't heard blood-curdling screams from their kitchen, most children didn't hear their father's angry shouts, and most children certainly weren't familiar with dark bruises and bright blood.
But Tala wasn't like most children—not anymore, anyway.
Now that Daddy drank too much from The Bottle, things were different. Now that he talked about The Government with scary, unfamiliar words like "goddamned" and "fucking", things were different. Mommy hid her face and Daddy screamed. There were no smiles, no laughter, no tuck-ins at night, and there were no bedtime stories.
And Tala was always afraid, and not because of the monster under his bed. (silly, there isn't a monster under my bed he's in the kitchen!) He wasn't scared of the boogey-man anymore, and that shadow in the corner really wasn't so bad anymore. Those things were nothing compared to The Bottle and what it could do. Those things couldn't hold a candle to what was inside the kitchen.
Because of The Bottle, Tala was afraid of all new things. He was afraid of Daddy's fist, of broken glass, of Mommy's crying, and of the kitchen. Everything was a monster waiting to pounce now. Every day he felt like crying, everyday his chest hurt, and every night he trembled in bed, his eyes squeezed closed.
And the fear wasn't the worst part. The worst part was Mommy. (mommy, i love you, i do, i do, mommy why--) He hated the way her face turned black and blue, he hated the unnatural swell of her lips, and he hated how she cried at night. He hated how Daddy stole all the beauty and love from her. (--mommy if he loves you too, why does he make you so ugly?) It made him sick when Daddy got too angry and hit her with The Bottle—the horrible sight of Mommy's face all black and blue and red, her too thin arms covering her bleeding face.
At night the image of his mother at the mercy of Daddy and The Bottle kept him awake. They were the real monsters—Daddy and The Bottle. A Boogey-Man and a Monster.
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Daddy was sleeping and Mommy was gone. Mommy had left and would never be back again—no one had to tell Tala that. The Bottle chased her away, and Mommy would never again hold him and tell him that she loved him. That opened a lonely, sad hole inside him. The sadness was worse than the fear; it sat heavily in his chest and gnawed at his bones and haunted his dreams.
But the fear was stronger than ever, and part of him—an angry, confused part—blamed it on Mommy and how she abandoned him and threw him to Daddy and The Bottle, like fresh meat to the hungry wolves. And Daddy was worse than ever, and The Bottle now had total control. And now that Mommy was gone, Tala knew he was the prime target for Daddy's anger.
Already he had a bruising eye (now i look even more like Mommy, red hair, black-ringed eye and lips and red, red dripping on my chin, i wonder if it tasted like this for her too?) and dried blood on his busted lip. The pain was a dull throb, but Tala found that it wasn't so bad. It wasn't as bad as what was coming from the inside. He could live with the discolored eye and the bloody lip, especially because they reminded him of Mommy.
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Hunger clawed at his belly like an angry beast. How long had it been since he had eaten? How long had Daddy been sitting in the kitchen, his eyes red and angry, his Bottle gripped tightly in his large hands? How long had Tala been sitting under his bed, careful not to touch his ugly bruises? How long since Mommy forgot that she loved him? How long had he been afraid? How long—
Tala moaned terribly as an incoherent shout came from the kitchen. He knew what Daddy wanted; he knew what the wordlessness meant. It took all his willpower to drag himself out and stand on his trembling legs and walk. The kitchen came closer and closer, and soon he could see his father hunched over the wooden table, his long, greasy hair hanging down in his face. He was unshaven, his clothes were filthy, and when he turned his face to look at his small son, his blue, blood-shot eyes hardly seemed human.
He snarled as he slammed his Bottle down on the table. It was empty. Tala tensed and took timid half steps toward his father, his heart in his throat and beating a million miles a minute. His father's mouth opened, words came crashing out, but Tala didn't listen. Tala knew what Daddy wanted; Daddy's Bottle was empty and that was a bad, bad thing. He inched closer and closer, and then lunged forward and snatched the bills off the table.
That was what Daddy did: he pulled bills out of his pocket and told his boy to bring him more. And Tala always did. But he always worried, how many bills were left? He could remember when they were at the candy shop, Mommy used to tell him that money didn't grow on trees (oh mommy, mommy what happens next, when the bills act like you and leave me too?).
He was at the door quicker than his father could have blinked, and then he was gone, gone, outside and away from Daddy and his Bottle—for now.
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It was a warm day, especially for October. Tala walked quickly, his long red hair hiding his face. He knew what people would say if they saw his face. He couldn't let strangers catch a glimpse of Daddy's masterpiece.
There were many young boys on the street that day. There were no adults with them, and Tala wondered if they had a home. Their clothes were tattered and, they called each other bad names (those are daddy's words, goddamn, fuck, how did they learn, they've never met daddy, if they did i would know). Tala looked at his feet and kept walking—he wouldn't bother them unless they bothered him.
But Tala was never a lucky person, so one approached him. He looked about the same age as Tala, but he as a little taller and his chest was wider. He had pale hair and paler eyes, with skin to match. His teeth were crooked and dirt was smudged on the right side of his face. He had a grin that made Tala sick, because it was a Rottweiler's grin.
"Hey, you look like crap," he said, and Tala stared at him with eyes the size of the moon. He said nothing.
The other boy frowned, but then his eyes dropped to the bills. His grin returned, bigger and worse than before. He took a step forward; Tala scuttled back. "Hey, kid, wanna let me have that?"
A strange mixture of fear and anger burst in Tala's chest. "No!" He said, louder than he had wanted to. "They're mine!"
"Everything around belongs to the public, so everything belongs to me!" The boy recited (Tala wondered what that what supposed to mean), and then before he knew it, his fist connected with Tala's face. He cried out and his hands shot up to cover his already-bruised face. He dropped the bills, and before he knew it, the boy and the money were gone.
One hand over where he'd been punched, he sat on the ground. Some of the other boys who had been running around on the streets were laughing, but he was too shocked to notice them. The bills were gone. The money for The Bottle was gone. What was Daddy going to say? What was Daddy going to do?
It was then that Tala came to a horrible conclusion: He had to make like Mommy and never show his face again.