"You. You little shit."
Slurred words and bloodshot eyes.
"You ruined my life, don't you understand?"
Alcohol infused breath and a vacant stare.
"I have to do this because of you. Fuck off. Just fuck off."
A harsh shove. The drunken woman watched the small boy scramble to his feet and scamper out of the trailer. Her son. Her endless misery. The door slammed back against the hinges fiercely. The trailer was still until muffled words broke the silence.
"You coming in here or what, Trace?"
The woman ran a hand over her face and walked to the bed, stopping to take a swig from the vodka bottle on the battered table. Straight up. With a sly smile, she climbed on top of the faceless man on her bed and straddled his lap. Time to go to work.
His feet trailed along the ground in his beaten Nike shoes. They were thin at the bottom, the rubber almost worn away from overuse; the laces frayed. His toe stuck out from the small hole at the side, catching the frigid air. He hadn't owned a pair of socks in two years. The little boy's small frame carried him through the trailer park until he reached the secluded lake at the back. Wedged between an abandoned old trailer and a tall tree was a small sack, pushed below the roots and hidden from view. Shaking fingers pulled the ends apart, his hand reaching inside and pulling out one cracker. It had taken him a week to find enough loose change to afford the jumbo packet. It was the only time he ever got to eat. He had five a day. One for breakfast, three for dinner and one more for a snack. His mother was too busy 'entertaining' any guy willing to throw a couple of bucks her way for a quick fuck to make him dinner. The money she made was spent on more drink, drugs and cigarettes. Never on him. He wasn't worth it. Pulling the tattered piece of material he had picked up from an old work site around him to battle the bitter wind, Dean Ambrose wiped away the solitary tear that rolled down his cheek and settled in for the night.
The trees shook in the blustery breeze, a school of leaves blowing wildly and littering the luxurious estate with golden and half green hues. She watched from the large bay window with eager eyes as their gardener tried to bring order to the chaos, his hopeless rake pushing and pulling the leaves in every direction. The warmth of the radiator on the wall next to the window was soothing and the little girl let her mind wander. Her deep brown eyes followed the man as he worked, a giggle escaping from her lips when his neatly stacked pile of leaves fell victim to a particularly boisterous gust of wind.
"Honey! Dinner!"
At the sound of her mother's voice penetrating her ears from the kitchen, she quickly took off without a second thought and was in her seat at the dinner table in mere moments. It was Saturday after all and she loved Saturdays.
"What are we, havin?"
She looked to her older brother, Alex, as he took the seat next to her. They were four years apart and just entering that stage in their relationship where everything they did annoyed the other.
"We're having roast chicken and your mom slaved over this all day so I want no fighting at the table guys."
This time it was her father's deep voice that boomed from the open doorway. She watched as he walked into the room, his hand running over her mother's back gently as they shared a tender kiss before he took his seat opposite his children at the table. It made her smile. The sight of the large juicy bird taking pride of place in the centre of the table made her smile even more. She loved Saturdays. With the comfortable chatter of her family filling the room, Kennedy Levesque tucked into her dinner with a happy smile on her face.