Alex and his mother had a considerably calmer life after that. Alex was taught lessons by his mother again, who was shocked to find how advanced the eleven-year-old boy had become in his studies.
As James said, it was a matter of days before they started to struggle for money. His mother worked in a shop but the pay from that was hardly enough for both of them. She was paid less than all the other workers; who were more experienced men.
She knew she would have to get more money from somewhere, and remembered what she did many years ago when they were short. The very action that led to James becoming the abusive man they knew.
Rachel came home from work with a man, headed straight to the bedroom and quickly explained to Alex, "we're doing very important things in there, so don't come in!"
"Oh, is it taxes?" Alex asked sarcastically.
His mother's eyes widened and she opened her mouth, but no sounds came out.
"Relax," he added, taking pity on her. "I'll stay in my room." He picked up his book and made his way to his bedroom, intending to try and ignore the events that were inevitably going to take place in the room next door.
Five minutes later, the faint sounds of Moaning and gasping came floating through the thin drywall separating the rooms. Alex scrunched his face up in disgust. He didn't need to hear that! It was his mother in there!
Hiding his head under the sheets, he put his fingers in his ears, but it didn't help. After a second or two, he heard a feminine cry of "harder!" and almost threw up on the spot.
Deciding there and then that he couldn't stay in the house with them, he went to sit in the garden with his book.
This became an almost nightly activity. Every day, a new man came in. Sometimes it was one he had seen before. Some of them smiled at him as he rushed outside to avoid any possible images that his brain might conjure up, or any sounds that may escape the walls. Some of them ignored him as Rachel ushered them toward her room. None made any efforts to communicate. It was weird, talking to the child of the woman they were about to screw.
Rachel knew the situation wasn't ideal in any way, but also made sure her son knew why she was doing what she did, to keep food on their plates and a roof on their heads. She made decent money, enough for the pair to live on, not much extra.
For Alexander's twelfth birthday, she bought him a think leather-bound notebook and an inky black pen. They had cost her almost everything she had, but it was worth it to see his face light up with joy as he wrapped his arms around her and ran to his room to start writing in it.
It was about a month later that she started coughing. She developed a fever and Alex worried about her all day. He couldn't afford a doctor, and as his mother got sicker and sicker, he couldn't afford much else either.
She resiliently kept going to work. She brought men home, though less and less often as the week went on. Her previous nightly activities soon dwindled to nothing.
Alex finally stopped her from leaving the house when she nearly fainted in the doorway.
"For God's sake, mother, please sit down and rest!
" I can't!" She said before dissolving into a coughing fit. "We need money!"
"Mother, you can hardly stand, you've not been eating, you cannot go to work! Please stay home and look after yourself!"
Rachel bit her lip, looking from the door to her son. He gazed at her with sad, pleading eyes until she gave in.
"Fine-" she forced out before she started coughing so badly she almost vomited. "Only for a day."
It was three days before Rachel was well enough to even eat without throwing up.
She was much better after a week, though they were almost completely out of money. Alex was surviving mostly on their own crops outside. He gave up much of his food to his mother, knowing she had to get stronger before she would be able to return to work.
Two days later, and Rachel finally felt up to leaving the house. She knew how desperate they were getting, and if she stayed home a day longer, she would likely lose her job, and then they would descend even further into poverty.
Rachel came back to work, she hid her illness well and nobody could really tell she had anything wrong with her at all. Little did they know, during her lunch break, she stayed in the bathroom and vomited, unable to keep her food down.
She didn't bring anyone home that night, she was still weak, but if she kept going to work, they might be able to stay off the streets.
A week later, Rachel was completely better again. Men came back with her every night once more, and Alex spent much more time reading outside again.
However, that night he developed a high fever, and started coughing. He had developed the illness that his mother had only just gotten over.
Luckily, he knew it wasn't fatal, as proven by his mother. So he tried to hide it from her, lest she worried.
This plan failed within the next two days, as Alex had a huge coughing fit and threw up his last meal.
"Oh honey," his mother sympathised, and she got him a warm lemon drink to soothe his aching throat.
He got considerably worse, and his mother looked after him. She couldn't take time off work, Alex understood, but she refrained from bringing people back with her.
Alex was almost as bad as she had been the week before, and Rachel's sickness seemed to have returned to her, but ten times worse.
she dissolved into a hacking cough and terrified Alex when she brought her hand from her mouth to reveal dark red blood.
Oh my god, he thought. His mother was really sick. She took yet more time off of work, and the next day received a letter notifying her that her position in the shop had been revoked, and she could collect her things whenever she felt up to it.
Rachel hid in her room and began to cry, as she sprayed her sheets with the blood she had coughed up.
She immediately knew, as she vomited into the bucket at her side, that she wasn't going to recover from this.