Chapter 1

Privet Conversations

Tyler sat quietly at the kitchen table that morning while his mother prepared her breakfast. He knew he'd have to wait until she was done so he could eat. The thought of eating her leftovers made him twitch. He always had to eat the rest of the stuff on his mother's plate, if there was any.

"Darn milk, it's spoiled!" she groaned as she sniffed inside. "Here Slug, drink this milk!"

Slug was Tyler's nickname. She gave it to him because she thought he was a worthless as a slug. Although it hurt, Tyler always said nothing.

Tyler grabbed the jug and gulped. Here it goes, he thought wincing at the idea.

"Well drink!" his mother bellowed reaching for a wooden spoon.

Tyler poured the sour milk down his throat hesitantly. His face puckered up and he wanted to die. Lord, please help me, he prayed silently.

Rosa, Tyler's mother, plopped down in a seat in front of him and waited impatiently for her microwave pancakes to be done. "Soon won't be able to make me some pancakes!" she grunted.

Tyler didn't say anything. He had to wait until she gave him permission to speak, which wasn't very often.

"Go ahead, ask why," she said reading his mind.

"Why won't you be able to?" he asked thinking it may be a trick.

Her bloodshot eyes grew angry and she looked toward her pancakes. "They soon gonna be shuttin' off my electricity," she answered. "Guess I'm gonna be livin' like an Amish."

Tyler didn't care. He thought never benefited from electricity anyways. He was actually glad she'd be losing everything she loved. The idiot deserves it, he thought. Little did Tyler know how much electricity he did benefit from.

The microwave beeped and she lumbered over to her breakfast. She soon returned with syrup on them. Quickly, she gobbled them down.

No prayers before breakfast, Tyler noted. He remembered being little and being taught to pray before meals, and bed. No longer did that apply. Oh well, he still did it.

Syrup on her face, she went to her bedroom and picked out her clothes. She picked out a long denim skirt, and a dirty pink sweater. She was supposed to be Holiness, but of course she left her ways long ago.

Tyler wasn't very lucky that morning. She hadn't left him any pancakes. That wasn't strange. He had now gone three days without any breakfast, of course sneaking some potato chips during her showers.

She soon came out, hair in a bun, and a frown on her face. Looking him directly in the eye, she spit. "Go get your shower," she ordered.

Tyler went without argument, for he didn't want to be paddled. He looked wearily through his small closet to find something to wear. All he had were some blue jeans too small for him, and a polo shirt that had a hole in it. All his other clothes were ready to be brought to the laundry matt. They lived in a small apartment in Pittsburg, Pennsylvania, so they didn't have space nor money for a washer and drier.

He stepped in, ready for a cold shower. He waited there nervously for Rosa. Soon, she appeared. She turned the cold water on and pushed him down, so that his back hit the tub. He felt a pang of pain as strong as lightning soar through his spine.

Rosa laughed. "Dumb thing, hurt his back," she said. "Bet you want Mommy to bandage that for ya." She turned him around and smacked him in the back with the towel bar.

Tyler could feel blood pouring out his sore back as he struggled to keep his eyes dry. How in the world did she pull the towel bar off so quick?

She then began to scrub his body with her long, sharp nails. She squirted soap all over an area, then scraped her nails along the soapy skin. Without a care in the world, she cut his face open. "Looks squeaky clean," she commented, smiling evilly.

Tyler stared blankly at her. He couldn't show any emotion, especially sadness. His mother would beat him until he nearly died if he did.

"What, don't you think I scrub good?" she demanded, breath smelling of fresh booze.

Tyler didn't know whether to reply or not to that. Did she want him to reply? His best bet was to just leave it go.

"Answer me, God damn it!" she screamed, slamming him under the water.

Tyler tried as hard as he could to pull himself above the water, but his mother's grip was too strong. His lungs could hardly stand a long time without oxygen. Lord, where are you? Please help me!

"Guess I should leave ya up 'fore you go and die," she decided, flinging him up into the air.

Tyler's chest heaved up and down like mad as he let the air go to his lungs. Breathing seemed like such a blessing, but it really was only something simple.

"Get the hell dressed, motherfucker!" she hollered, throwing him onto the bathroom like he was a towel.

Do you know how stupid you sound? he asked as he tried to stand up. His legs only took him up so far, then he fell back down.

"What, you need me to help you get dressed too? God damn asshole!" She yanked him up and carried him to his room.

After a painful dressing, Tyler lay in his bedroom, trying to rest himself. He wanted to let himself recover from his bruises a little before he was beaten again.

A few hours later, the phone rang, just as Rosa was about to get Tyler out of bed. "Hello?" she said in a gruff voice.

"Rosa, how's the boy?" asked a familiar voice.

"Walter, I thought I told you not to call!" she barked into the phone. Tyler was now in the living room, listening. He had snuck out of his bedroom, luckily having recovered a good deal since two hours ago.

"I need to talk to Tyler, I haven't seen him since our fight."

"Shut up, he doesn't need you. We don't need you. Besides, we aren't good enough for you."

"Rosa, I left because. . ." Walter began.

"Never mind!" she interrupted. "The boy might hear, I want him to think you don't care. Just leave me and him alone, I mean it!" She hung up pretty mad.

"What was that about?" Tyler whispered quietly.

Rosa walked by him and scowled. "You didn't hear nothing!" she told him. "NOTHING!"

Tyler nodded, wondering who had been on the phone and why he wanted to talk to him.