It's time for a sad oneshot. Don't know why, but I felt the need to write one.
I own nothing. The Almighty Larson owns it all.
Five-year-old Tom Collins laid in his bed, listening to his mother arguing with a strange man. This was the sixth or seventh time this week that a man Tom didn't know came to his house. He didn't like the men. It was partially because he was afraid of them, but mostly because he could hear when they hit his mother.
He got out of bed, slowly opened his door, walked to the livingroom, and watched the argument continue.
"I just need a little more time," his mother was saying.
"I gave you more than enough time!" the man yelled at her. "I told you to sell it and that's what I meant!"
"Well . . . I couldn't."
"Why the hell not!?"
"I don't . . . I don't know where it is."
"You lost my shit!?" The man raised his hand to strike Ms. Collins across the face.
"Mamma?" Tom said timidly, walking into the room.
"Who the hell is that?" the man asked Ms. Collins.
"He's my son," she replied, taking Tom by the hand. "What're you doin' down here, sweetie?"
"I wanted to know what you were yelling about," Tom said. His mother got on her knees and spoke to him softly.
"Honey, mamma lost somethin' very important and it belongs to that man," she said. "Go on back to bed now, okay?"
"What does it look like?"
"What does what look like?"
"The thing you lost." The man grabbed Tom's arm and started pulling him out of the room.
"Your mom told you to go bed," he said.
"Does it look like sugar in a little baggy?" Tom asked. The man stopped dragging him and Ms. Collins got off her knees. She tried to bring Tom back to her, but the man stopped her.
"Why'd you ask that?" he asked.
"Cause I saw it," Tom replied.
"Where?"
"In the kitchen. I took it so mamma wouldn't put it in that needle thing and poke herself with it. I don't like the way she acts when she does that."
"Where'd you put it?"
"Down the toilet." The man slammed Tom against a wall and slapped him, causing him to cry.
"What the fuck is wrong with you, boy!?" he yelled.
"Mamma!" Tom cried, tears streaming down his face. Ms. Collins pulled the man away from him.
"Leave him alone!" she told the man. "This is between you and me!"
"The little bastard flushed the stash I told you to sell!" the man yelled. "He might as well have just taken my wallet and flushed it!"
"He's only five! He didn't know any better!"
"That's no fucking excuse!" Ms. Collins slapped the man as hard as she could before running to her son, picking him up, and running out the door.
"Mamma, where are we goin'?" Tom asked as his mother put him in their car. She supplied no answer, got into the driver's seat, and pulled off. "Mamma?" She still ignored him. He decided to sit quietly while his mother drove into an alley. "Mamma, what're we doin' here?"
"Stay in the car," Ms. Collins replied.
"Why mamma?"
"Just stay here. I'll be back." She got out of the car and walked out of the alley. Tom waited and waited and waited for his mother to come back, but eventually fell asleep.
The next day when Tom woke up, his mother had still not returned. Getting worried, he disobeyed her for the first time in his life. He got out of the car and went looking for her. As he walked, he noticed people buying drugs from the man that his mother had argued with. He got scared and ran into a nearby building.
Inside he saw more people like the ones outside and his mother doing the exact thing he hated seeing her do. Shooting up.
"Mamma!" he said, rushing over to her. "Mamma, what're you doing?"
"Mamma feels good . . ." Ms. Collins said. "Mamma feels real good . . ."
"Mamma, I wanna go home. Can we go home now?"
"Why? It's nice here. Don't you like it?"
"I'm hungry, mamma. I waited for you to come back all night and you didn't."
"Okay. We'll go get you some food then. Just let me . . . um . . ." She began rummaging through her purse and pulled out some money as the man he feared came into the building and began collecting money from everyone.
"You're a few bucks short," he told Tom's mother.
"I know, but I can't-" Ms. Collins started.
"No more excuses," the man interrupted. He then glanced at Tom. "You love your son?" Tom's mother nodded. "Prove it."
"How?" she asked. The man picked Tom up. "What're you doin'!?"
"Until you sell what you lost and what you used, your little boy is mine."
"Mamma!" Tom cried, trying to kick the man.
"No, don't . . . don't take my baby," Ms. Collins begged. The man ignored her and took Tom out of the building, kicking and screaming.
For three days, Tom stayed in the room that he was given at the man's house. He later found out that he was actually called The Man. His room was the only place he felt safe. He was hungry and hadn't eaten in four days, but he was afraid to face The Man.
"You gonna come outta there anytime soon, boy?" The Man asked from outside the door of Tom's room.
"No!" Tom replied. "I want my mamma!"
"Your mamma owes me money and until she pays it you're staying with me."
"But I wanna go home!"
"Well, you can't!" Tom cried into his pillow for over an hour before mustering up the courage to come out of his room. He slowly walked down the stairs and into the kitchen where The Man counting money and a friend of his watching him.
"How much do you have now?" his friend asked.
"Stop distracting me, John," The Man told him. He then glanced at Tom. "You've decided to join the outside world, I see."
"I-I'm hu-hungry," Tom stammered.
" Get the kid some food." John rolled his eyes and got Tom an apple.
"This is all I get?" Tom asked.
"Give it back then," John said. Tom fell silent and took a bite of the apple. "That's what I thought." There was suddenly a knock on the door.
"Get it," The Man told John.
"Why do I have to get it?" John asked.
"Who pays you every week?" John sighed and reluctantly went to answer the door.
"When can I go back to my mamma?" Tom asked.
"I already told you you're not going home till I have my money!" The Man told him.
"But-" Tom was cut off by The Man punching him so hard he fell to the floor.
"Shut up!" Tom pulled his knees to his chest and started to cry. "What the hell are you crying for!?"
"I want my mamma," Tom said, tears streaming down his face.
"I don't care what you want!"
"Take me to my mamma or-"
"Or what?" The Man interrupted. "What are you gonna do? You're like . . . two."
"I'm five!"
"I don't give a shit!"
"Let go of me! I need to get to my son!" Tom heard his mother's voice say. She suddenly appeared in the kitchen.
"Mamma!" Tom exclaimed. He tried to run to her, but The Man grabbed him.
"What're you doing here?" he asked. "Do you have my money?"
"Some of it," Ms. Collins said, giving a few bills to The Man.
"This is fifty bucks. You owe me two hundred."
"I know, but I . . . I can't get that much."
"Then you won't be getting your son back." The Man picked up a nearby kitchen knife and held it to Tom's throat.
"MAMMA!" Tom screamed.
"WAIT!" Ms. Collins said. "I'll get the rest of your money. I don't know how, but I will. Just, please . . . don't hurt him."
"That's more like it," The Man said, putting the knife down. "Now, get out and don't come back until you have my money."
Six months went by and Ms. Collins had only gotten one hundred dollars. Tom was confined to his room and only allowed to leave to use the bathroom.
Four more months passed and Tom had been punished for trying to run away. He was beaten and wasn't allowed to eat for two weeks. When he was told he could eat again he immediately asked, "Can I go back to my mamma now?"
"Do I have the rest of my money?" The Man retorted.
"No."
"You just answered your own question."
"But . . . but it's my birthday tomorrow. I'm never away from her when it's my birthday. Please?"
"I said no."
After a while, Tom stopped counting how long he'd been away from his mother. He was six-years-old now and he was starting to think he'd be with The Man forever. Until one day, while he was in the kitchen, Ms. Collins snuck in.
"Mamma!" he said, running to her.
"Shh!" Ms. Collins replied. Tom lowered his voice to a whisper.
"I'm sorry, mamma," he said. "I just missed you."
"I missed you too, baby." Tom and his mother shared a warm hug before Tom was pulled away by The Man.
"What the fuck are you doing here!?" The Man yelled.
"I just needed to see him," Ms. Collins said.
"Do you have my money?"
"I got ninety-five bucks." The Man took the money from her.
"You still owe me fifty-five more," he said.
"Can't you just let that slide?"
"Hell no."
"Please! I need my baby back! I'll do anything!"
"Anything, huh?"
"Yes." The Man pushed Tom aside and stepped closer to Ms. Collins.
"I'll give you your little boy back," he said.
"You will?" Ms. Collins asked, excitedly.
"Yeah, but . . ." The Man continued in a whisper, "you have to sleep with me." Ms. Collins gasped. "You said you'd do anything, didn't you?"
"Yeah," Ms. Collins quietly.
"Then you'll do it, won't you?" Ms. Collins nodded and started to follow The Man.
"Mamma, where are you goin'?" Tom asked, grabbing his mother's hand.
"Sweetheart, mamma's gonna be right back," Ms. Collins told him.
"You promise this time?"
"I promise." Ms. Collins kissed Tom's forehead and left the room.
Tom stared in the direction she'd left and waited. After a while time seemed to stand still and Tom began to doubt his mother was coming back.
"She left me again," he said to himself.
Finally after he waited for a little while longer, Ms. Collins returned to the kitchen with The Man right behind her.
"Mamma! You came back!" Tom exclaimed, running to hug her.
"I told you I would," Ms. Collins replied, picking her son up and holding him tightly.
"We'll have to do this again sometime," The Man said. Ms. Collins said nothing back and left the house.
"Mamma? What's gonna happen now?" Tom asked.
"You and I are gonna go home," Ms. Collins told him. "And you'll never see me do drugs again."
"Is that man gonna come back?"
"No, baby. That man is out of our lives for good."
"You won't let anybody else take me away, will you?" Ms. Collins kissed the top of Tom's head.
"No," she said. "And that's a promise."
Collins held his mom's hand as she finished telling Roger the story of her past.
"Did all that really happen?" Mark asked.
"Yes it did," Ms. Collins said. "Not a day goes by without me thinking about what could've happened to Tom. He was gone a whole year."
"What the hell does any of this have to do with me?" Roger asked angrily.
"When Tom told me what you were doing to yourself, I immediately thought of me and how I turned my life around for my son," Ms. Collins told him.
"I don't have a son."
"I know, but don't you have people who care about you?"
"Yeah."
"And people you care about?"
"Well . . . yeah."
"That's why I turned my life around. For the people who care about me and the people I care about. Roger, don't wait until you have a child to try to quit drugs. It's a burden on them to have to take care of you no matter what age they are. Don't make the same mistake I made."
"She's the strongest woman I know, Rog," Collins said. "She's been through a lot and still came out on top. You can too."
"Do it for the people who care about you," Mark said. Roger looked at both of his friends and then Ms. Collins before reaching into his pocket, pulling out his stash, and flinging it across the room.
"I'm proud of you, Roger," Ms. Collins said, smiling.
"For what?" Roger retorted. "Volunteering to go through withdrawal?"
"No. For taking the first step."
Fin. Review please.