There was one instance, one moment he couldn't remember, that could probably be labelled as a 'nice' memory of his mother. There weren't many, and they usually were based when he was small; too small and couldn't reach the door handle of his room, couldn't leave his room unless his mother came to let him out, after her 'clients' had left.
Maybe he was about three or fours years old, lying in his bed sleeping peacefully. He held a grey, ratty rabbit he'd had since he was born, clutching it limply.
She walked in, fully dressed for a change; a light blue woolly jumper and skin tight jeans. The red haired woman stooped down to kneel beside his bed, watching him breathe slowly, in and out. She stayed there for a while, looking at him, and wondering just what would've happened if she had indeed had that abortion. Wherever the hell the boy's father was didn't matter, but it was inconvenient that she was left with the child.
Walter mumbled in his sleep, nibbling on one of his rabbit's ears. She reached forward, gently pulling it out of his mouth, but let him suck on his thumb instead. He was nice like this; small, quiet and well behaved. When he got older, he might be a problem. Children were very curious, after all. But for now, Walter always did as mommy told him.
She looked at the little black clock on his bed side drawers – not that he could tell the time yet – the little green hands telling her it was quarter to eight. She then leaned over the side of his bed, lowered herself down and blew a raspberry into his cheek.
He woke up with a startled squeal, flailing and laughing as his mother tickled him. He rolled onto his back, giggling and pressing his knuckles into his cheek, not fully aware of what his limbs were doing just yet. She smiled a little down at him, never entirely sure what to do with a child.
"Time to get up lil' man, you have school soon," She said, rubbing his messy, red hair. He frowned slightly, clinging to his rabbit almost pleadingly. She tilted her head curiously. "What's wrong, Wally?"
"Don't like it," He replied, mumbling into the fabric of his rabbit.
"Why not? Is something wrong with school?," He nodded as she rested her weight on her elbows and squeezing his hips between them.
"They're mean to me. Not just the ones in my class, but the big kids too. And the teachers look at me funny," He replied sleepily, absently picking at the button eye of his stuffed animal.
"What do the kids do?"
"They push me and call me names. They say I'm a 'horse sun', but I'm not. I don't know what that is," Walter explained. Sylvia's brow furrowed for a minute, repeating the phrase in her head until it finally clicked what was being said that her son was misunderstanding. She bit her lower lip, then licked in and blinked away the sting in her eyes.
"Do they now...," He nodded.
"What's a horse sun anyway, mommy?," He asked.
"I don't know, Wally," She lifted him out of bed and onto his feet, beginning to unbutton his blue pyjamas. He held the rabbit by one arm as she peeled him out of his bed clothes and into school uniform. "Don't listen to them. And don't let them push you around, either."
"But they're all bigger than me," He was a very short boy, after all. Sylvia nodded, folding his green tie and bring the knot up to his neck loosely.
"Yes, I know. But you're a tough little guy, Walter. If those little bastards pick on you again, punch them. Kick 'em, hit 'em or even bite 'em. Doesn't matter, whatever you need to do to defend yourself. Okay?," There was a brief silence, Walter staring wide eyed at his mother, before nodding.
"Okay mommy, I'll kick their butts for you."
"That's my lil' man," She praised him, ruffling his hair. "Go get your lunch, or you'll miss the bus." He nodded again, then placed his precious rabbit on his pillow and ran out of the room towards the kitchen. Sylvia sighed, then began folding his pyjamas and making his little bed. She then choked and covered her mouth, tears beginning to swell in her eyes and threatening to make her mascara and eye liner run. "Oh God, what am I doing, Charlie?," She whimpered, but then took a sharp inhale and calmed herself. No; the abuse would make Walter stronger, if nothing else. If her boy could learn to deal with it, he'd become stubborn and tough, just like his father.
She just hoped he'd be a little more willing to compromise than he was.
Not a chance, Sylvia.
Hail to the princess, baby.