"FUCK!" I kicked the dumpster, and beat on the brick walls of the alley, trying to deflate my anger. It never worked. What the hell made me think that it's ever going to go away? I looked at my hands, my knuckles, cut and bleeding. Dirty too. My left hand, my ring finger, held a promise ring. A promise to myself, to my family, to my God. To everything I have. Not a fucking lot. My teeth bit into my lip, trying not to blow up again. Poor kid. I scared him. I looked into his eyes, which were haunted, and crying. I ran to his side, and ran my hand through his greasy, knotted blonde hair. His teeth chattered, and I took off my coat, and slid it around his frail body. My God he's beautiful. I kissed his cheek, and pulled him onto my lap.
"Daddy?"
"Yeah baby boy?"
"When?" he looked at me, those brown eyes shining in the moonlight. Breaking my heart.
"I'm not sure babe. I'm not sure." I hoped he wouldn't speak again; I just wanted him to sleep now. I know he could never forget; how could a five year old possibly dismiss the image of his mother, shot, bleeding to death in front of him? I let myself relive the night.
"Nicholas." She kissed my lips; I tasted the poison. I could feel it settle in. She moved her hand farther down my body, and was rubbing me softly. I moaned inside my lover's mouth, and she took it a step farther, kissing down my then-healthy body.
"I love you." I held on to that phrase, frozen in time. The feel of her hands creating friction against my skin. Her smile, soaking into my heart.
Then I heard it.
The explosion, the state of shock, the blast. The clunk of Justin's toy car hitting the floor. The snap of my heart, watching her bleed. The throb of my brain, the sudden desire to blow the prick's head off. I ran to the door of our tiny shack, and it hit me. I could see it from Justin's point of view. His mother, black eyes and red hair. Silent tears streaming from her dead eyes. Heard another shot, watches his father crumple at the door, watching the red form a puddle in the middle of his stained wife-beater.
"DADDY!" Another bad dream. I rock him back and forth in my arms, like I did when he was a newborn. At least when he was a newborn, nothing was this bad. I always thought only one present for Justin for Christmas was bad. Now, here we are, father and son, sitting in an alley in the back of a fast food joint. It's mid December, snow about to fall at any time, and we have nowhere to go. I've tried to find work, but Justin has nowhere to stay while I work. We lost our home, and now I will do anything for my baby.
"Are you alright?" I looked up at the strange man. Justin was shivering in my arms. I pulled him even closer.
"Look, come to my house. Shower up, and have a decent meal. The kid must be starving."
That was too much for me to comprehend. "Th-Thank you."
"No problem."
I stood up on my shaky legs, and hoisted Justin farther up into my arms. I wish he would sleep. We walked to the man's car, and I sat in the back with Justin. The man laughed a throaty laugh, and pressed a button to lock all the doors.
"Look's like I have myself double the fun tonight." The nasty thing licked his lips, and the only thing running through my mind was to get Justin out of there.