8 a.m. Claire got up and went about her morning routine; the usual things that people do – brush teeth, get dressed. Then she started on the housework.
Being the mother-figure of the household, she took it upon herself to take care of the place and everyone in it. She wasn't forced to do these things. She enjoyed it. It kept her busy. She liked looking after people. At the age of 32, she was expected to have already married and had kids. She always dreamed this would happen, but none of her relationships had ever been that serious. She had a few girlfriends, but it never lasted long enough to even think of marriage or starting a family. Most of them were put of by the "transgender issue", as Claire herself had begun to call it. She did want kids of her own. She had a working womb, even though she hadn't always had female genitals, so it was possible. She just had to find the right woman first.
Fat chance of that ever happening. She'd probably be single and childless for the rest of her life. She huffed and tried to focus on the laundry.
By the time she'd finished the chores, the other occupants of the house were up and active. All except for Damien. His late rising concerned Claire. She was about to go upstairs and wake him when Kitty came down with a worried face.
"I don't want to scare you or anything," Kitty played with his hands. "but I don't think Damien came home last night."
This was what Claire dreaded hearing the most. It became part of her routine, but she still couldn't stand it. She sighed and reassured Kitty she would sort it.
She knew exactly where Damien was.
☽☾
After borrowing her neighbour Mr Kita's car for the thousandth time, Claire set off to get Damien back. She always did this when Damien went AWOL. It hadn't happened for a while on account of Kitty being around. But he was feeling stressed and vulnerable, so of course he would be with the latest prick he'd entered a toxic relationship with. They came and went, soon to be replaced by another, and were all vile.
Claire never learnt this bastard's name. Many men entered Damien's life, then left just as quickly. She didn't know which number he was. But she had memorised where he lived. She did this with all of them to prepare for a situation like this. This scumbag was most likely in his 40s or 50s, the average age for Damien's boyfriends, and rich. He always went for the most dangerous and violent individuals to be his latest conquest. He would let them use and abuse him in exchange for alcohol and money. No matter how much Claire tried to protect him - grounding him, and even locking him in the house and taking away his phone - they always found a way to entice him back.
She gripped the steering wheel as she drove, rage and regret filling her. Why did he choose horrible men and let them use him? She promised his mother that she would keep him safe, but she had no idea how to do that with the way he was. She couldn't contain him. But she couldn't blame him. His rebellious personality was her fault. She didn't save him when he needed her most.
Pulling up at the prick's house, Claire got out of the car and closed the door carefully. She was angry, but that wouldn't justify wrecking Mr Kita's car. She rushed to the front door. It was a bad neighbourhood. She didn't want to stick around for long.
She banged on the door as hard as she could. She waited for at least a two seconds before grabbing the handle and storming in. She found a middle aged man in the living room, drinking beer. This must be Damien's boyfriend. He was much bigger than Damien, which made Claire angry. She'd bet he used his size to intimidate him into doing whatever he wanted. If Damien wanted to, he could kill this dickhead. But he never did, even when he was being hurt himself.
"Where is he?" Claire demanded.
The man frowned and shrugged. "Where's who?"
Claire gritted her teeth in rage. She wasn't in the mood to screw around. She knocked the beer out of his hand, much to his annoyance, grabbed him by the collar and yanked him up.
"Don't fuck with me!" She snapped, right in his face. "Tell me where he is right now or I won't hesitate to gut you!"
He looked surprised. Clearly no one had ever stood up to him before. He huffed like a stropping child and said, "He's upstairs, in the bedroom."
With a nod, Claire dropped him and made her way up the stairs. There were three rooms leading to the landing. She wasn't sure which one was the bedroom, so she peaked into each room. It turned out the third room was the right one. She found Damien in the bed, fast asleep, surrounded by empty bottles.
She shook her head and marched in. She gently shook Damien. He frowned and turned over in the bed, facing away from her. Seeing that he wouldn't wake up, Claire grabbed him and dragged him out of the bed. He landed on the floor, wide awake, taking the blanket with him. Claire was grateful for that since his lower half was bare.
Damien rubbed his head and growled. "What the hell was that for?"
"We're leaving. Put your pants back on." Claire threw his underwear and shorts at him.
Damien scowled at her, but did as he was told. Claire gathered his boots and helped him put them back on. He stood up, wobbling as he did so. He was completely wasted. That bastard got him drunk on purpose. Claire helped him walk to the door and found his boyfriend standing there.
"What do you think you're doing, barging in here like you own the place?" The man yelled. "Who the hell are you?"
This man was seriously pissing Claire off. She let go of Damien for a second, stomped over to the dickhead, and punched him square in the face. The large man fell like Bigfoot being tipped over.
"I'm his mother and I'm taking him home!" Claire shouted down at him. She grabbed Damien's arm and pulled him out of the room. "You should be ashamed, you dirty old bastard! Taking advantage of a teenager!"
She dragged Damien down the stairs, ignoring his protests and angry shouting. When they got to the car, she threw him inside and got into the driver's seat.
"Who the fuck do you think you are?" He yelled at her, slurring his words slightly. "I'm gonna fucking catch hell for what you've done!"
"You're not seeing him again." Claire said. She put the key in the ignition and started driving away from this awful place.
"You can't stop me!"
"I'll lock you in the house if I have to."
"That's illegal!"
"I don't care. I'll still do it." Claire could tell he was glaring and pouting without having to look at him. "I saw the bruises on your face and legs, and the split lip. He did that, didn't he?" She watched him through the rear-view mirror.
Damien's eyes went wide and he turned to face the window to avoid her eyes. The glare turned into a look of fear. He didn't confirm or deny it, but Claire could tell she'd hit the nail on the head.
"He'll come to the house." Damien muttered.
"Then I'll call the police." Claire said. "I'll kill the prick if I have to."
"You can't do that! You'll go to jail!"
"I'll do anything to keep you safe!" Claire finally lost it. "You get yourself into dangerous situations, you drink until you're catatonic, and you let men do whatever they hell they want with you! You're not looking out for yourself, so I have to!"
"You're making me sound like a slut!" Damien threw himself back into the seat, folding his arms.
"That's what people think of you! You're 16 years old and you're selling yourself for money and booze!"
"It's not that sleazy! They're my fucking boyfriends! I can sleep with them if I want to!"
"Oh, it is that sleazy! You have a new boyfriend every week." Claire scoffed. "These men don't love you, you know. They only want you for sex. If you didn't advertise yourself like you do, they wouldn't even look at you twice."
As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted saying them. Shit, that was way too harsh. The look Damien gave her was angry and hurt. She swallowed the lump in her throat.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say-"
"Let me out of the car."
"You can't get out of the car until we're home-"
"Let me out of the fucking car!" Damien screeched and began pulling at the door. Claire was glad she put the child locks on.
Damien started booting the window hard, trying to break it. This enraged Claire. She was trying her best to save him, but he was being so goddamn difficult.
"Stop it! Just fucking stop it now!" She screamed in frustration.
He immediately stopped and glared at her. She couldn't handle it anymore. She pulled into the parking lot of a supermarket and broke down in tears.
"I try my best to protect you, but you fight me at every opportunity." Claire saw Damien's face change to concern and then shame. "I see you as my own child. I want the best for you." She choked back a sob. "You worry me so much! I don't know where you are at night or who you're with. I'm terrified you'll wind up dead!"
She sobbed into her hands, unable to contain it anymore. She was so stressed and so scared for him.
"You don't need to panic so much. I'm hard to kill."
"I know that." Claire sniffed and wiped her eyes. "But it only takes one person to know how to kill an antichrist and that's the end of you. And all the other dangers you put yourself through! Do you even use protection when you sleep with these men?"
"Of course I do!" Damien frowned. "I'm not stupid."
Claire was glad to hear that. Antichrists couldn't get pregnant, not even the female ones, but they could get sexually transmitted diseases.
"You need to be more careful, though. You could get beaten up, raped, murdered, anything. You're so reckless. I don't know what to do anymore."
"Sorry." Damien said. "I don't mean to worry you. I just-" He stopped. Claire glanced over at him through the tears in her eyes, but he wouldn't meet her gaze. He sighed and whispered, "I don't know why I do it. But I'll stop."
"Thank you." Claire gave him a relieved smile. "And I'm sorry for what I said."
"It's fine. It was true, anyway." Damien shrugged, his head down.
They drove the rest of the way in silence.
☽☾
By the time they arrived back home, it was getting late. It was a three hour drive there and back. Damien hadn't realised it had been that long until the sun started setting.
Damien got out of the car. Claire stayed inside since she had to return it to Mr Kita. She told him he was grounded for a month. He didn't fight her. He deserved it, after all. He wobbled up the stairs to his room. His head ached and he wanted to rest. He found the bedroom empty. Kitty was most likely downstairs. Damien was grateful of that for once. He wanted to be alone right now.
He fell onto his bed and cried. He hated what he was doing to people, the worry and stress he caused. He truly didn't understand why he did what he did. He felt empty and worthless. Maybe drinking and sleeping around made him feel alive and loved. Even he didn't know. He was a stranger to himself, especially now. All he wanted was to die and end all this suffering, his own and others'. He tried many times to kill himself, but nothing ever worked.
How ironic, being suicidal and practically immortal. He knew God was laughing at him.