I walked slowly in trepidation as our little apartment got closer. It was a 3-bedroom apartment that, thankfully, my father had bought in cash before his death or we'd probably have to move to a smaller home by now.
I had a feeling something bad was gonna happen today. It usually does when I have a superb day at school.
Yes, I was still going to elementary school. I won't risk my education because of some bad parenting. I know that I don't need school (at least not elementary school) with the level of my knowledge, but my mother refused to allow me to skip grades and I had to spend as much time away from her as possible. Initially, I thought it would be torture to spend almost half of your waking day with little kids learning basic things that most people know. But surprisingly, it was still better than looking after a grown woman who does nothing but waste away her days in a daze of booze.
So, as I was saying, it was a good day today at school. My classmate Mark just turned 8 today and his parents brought enough snacks and cake for the whole class. Then, my homeroom teacher, Ms. Sarah told me that she would be recommending my name for the regional spelling bee and if I performed well enough, I could even compete with older children or go on to the nationals. Then she gave me this angelic smile and said, "I'm proud of you."
I basked in that praise of hers.
I know, I know, I should be mature enough to not crave such little attention. But that was all the praise I would get for probably the entire month. My teachers in general had gotten used to my 'brilliance' by now. I had overheard more than one teacher complain about me wasting my potential in their class.
If only they knew about the source of my 'brilliance'.
So yes, my day till now had been amazing and that just filled me with dread. The last time something like this had happened, I had to pick my mother up from her own vomit and wash her up before tucking her in. Not an easy task with my current size. The day my father died and the day my mother began her depressed drinking were both similar when I had the best of times at school.
My uneasiness wasn't unwarranted, at least not in my opinion.
I climbed up the steps to the second floor and took out the keys from my backpack. It might be unusual for an 8-year-old to carry a set of house keys, but with me hardly anything was normal.
I held out the door ajar only to freeze in place witnessing the sight in front of me.
Three people were on the floor of my living room. Two men and a woman. Needless to say, the woman was my mother while I didn't know either of the men. That wasn't what shocked me though. The shocking part was their clothes that were strewn across the floor haphazardly.
Yes folks, my mother was having a threesome right in front of my eyes and she didn't even notice when I entered. I stayed transfixed on the spot, unable to even move to my own room because then they would definitely notice me.
That image was too much for my young eyes, so I closed them tightly, their cries of passion however filled the atmosphere completely as all three of them moaned in unison.
'What the fuck have I walked into?' With that thought in mind, I decided to slowly inch out of the place and wait near the stairs. At least better than getting detailed sex education at 8, right? I slowly tried shutting the door as I was making my way out.
It was right at that moment that the damn door chose to creak. Somehow, it was loud enough to get the attention of one of the men my mother was blowing. His eyes lifted up and met mine and for a second I could not move. Apparently, the man had some morality because he withdrew himself from that woman and shouted, "Hey! There's a kid watching!"
I chose that moment to leave all subtlety and shut the door quickly. I moved back to the stairs and sat down timidly. Yes, she has brought home people before, but they were mostly younger men. I remember this one regular guy of hers who looked underage.
Usually that happened in my mother's bedroom so I didn't have to see them in action. The noise and when they left afterward (I saw that from my room window) was enough to know about them. Most of the time these men didn't even know I existed. Clearly, that wasn't the case today.
"What the fuck Carla! That was your kid?" The voice was clearly the blowjob guy.
"That's what happens when people fuck. Oh.. oh.. oh yes! Keep going, Kevin."
"Will you stop fucking for God's sake! That kid just saw…"
"Shut the fuck up asshole." My mother's agitated voice cut him off mid-sentence. "He is a little motherfucker who was born to fuck my life. Now either finish what you started or get the fuck out!"
My eyes teared up hearing that sentence. It's not my fault for being born! I know this as a fact but still, I had hoped she would have at least some love left for me somewhere.
I just sat there and cried silently.
Within a minute I felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked up with my watery eyes to see the blowjob guy, now fully dressed, "Sorry you had to see that kid." Now that I see him with his clothes on, he is a man in his late 20s or early 30s with a noticeable tummy but still quite handsome.
I nodded at him, accepting his apology silently. It isn't his fault that my mother couldn't love me.
With that he started walking down the stairs, but he still kept looking back at me every few steps. He didn't hide the pity in his eyes as he walked down.
Now that the guy with a conscience has gone away, I can only wait for the other one to finish, hopefully soon and then I can go to my room for some well deserved solitude.
It took them at least another half hour to finish.
It was agonizing to wait outside the door but I dare not disturb them. While my mother hadn't hit me in years, I wouldn't try provoking her.
When the other man left the house, he just gave me a side glance but didn't say anything. I waited for him to disappear from my sight before opening the apartment door again.
"Finally, his lordship is back!" My mother's voice rang out with heavy sarcasm.
I avoided her sight and made a beeline for my bedroom. Through my peripheral vision, I saw that she was wearing a negligee with nothing underneath. I quickened my pace but was unfortunately stopped by her voice.
"Troy."
I turned towards her slightly but kept my eyes firmly locked on her feet.
"You've been a naughty boy, today. You ruined mummy's fun, as a punishment you won't get dinner tonight." She finished in a clipped tone.
I abruptly looked up at her face and took in the steely expression present there. Anger coursed through my veins unrestrained, but I didn't utter a word.
This was a new low, even for her. Although she won't ever accept the fact, she knew that I was the responsible one between the two of us. In the past year alone, I prepared meals for her more times than she did for me.
What right did she have to take away my food?
But I didn't say a word. I won't give her the satisfaction. So, I simply went to my room and tried to ignore whatever happened today.
I probably fell asleep in my bed when I was awakened by my mother's shouting.
I immediately became aware of all my surroundings as I quickly got up and put an ear to the door of my room.
"... and I fucking told you. He is asleep in his room."
Me? Someone came to meet me? But why?
"He is healthy and happy. His teachers only sing his praises. Why the fuck d'you think I'll beat him up?"
"I didn't say you beat him." A gruff voice sounded, "There was a complaint and it is obligatory for us to check the kid and his surroundings. If he is indeed sleeping, show that to us and we can come back later when he is awake."
Holy Shit!
Someone lodged a complaint against her. It didn't take long for me to deduce that it was probably the blowjob guy. But what should I say to them?
Before I could make any sort of decision, the door opened on itself and I came face to face with my mother who was looking down at me with the sweetest smile I had seen on her visage in a long time.
"Troy, love. These nice people want to talk to you. Why don't you tell them how much you love me?" The last part was whispered in a low tone. For an instance, she gave me this venomous look that said she would probably kill me if I said anything else. Behind her stood a tall brawny man on the younger side with a nice smile and a middle aged lady whose laugh lines at the corner of her eyes spoke of her inherent kindness.
I was conflicted.
I could probably end this farce of a life with her at this moment. She didn't want me anyway. But then again I didn't know what awaited me once I left this place. It could be like from one foster home to another like shown in most of the movies. Or it could be a quiet, boring but stable life.
And I had made a promise to Dad to care for my mother. But then I remembered the second promise I made to him. I'll be happy as much as I can.
It didn't take me long to decide before I told the two nice looking people everything. I even made up the part where I feared for my life because she was trying to starve me to death.
"Mum doesn't want me around," I told the nice lady who was hugging me while his colleague was glaring daggers at my mother. I didn't even have to fake my tears because I was genuinely hurt with her actions. "Can you take me somewhere else? I know she would be happier once I move out."
"You little piece of shit! You ungrateful little fuck! I'll show you happiness!" She pounced on me.
Fortunately, the brawny man held her away from me and the shouting continued.
*sigh*
I knew today would be a bad day.
(Break)
They temporarily moved me to a group home. Apparently, her having wild sex in front of me is a type of
The worst part is that she didn't even fight for it. I knew she didn't want me, but she didn't even see me after that horrible day. Didn't even ask the public defender she was probably assigned, for anything to do with me.
That's my best guess because I knew she couldn't afford a lawyer with whatever little insurance money she had left.
At least she could be happier in the future without the burden of a child. That's what I told myself before going to sleep every night and to avoid any lingering guilt over her punishment.
One week after that I was moved to another home. But this time it was a foster home belonging to a very nice looking couple in their mid to late 30s.
"Hello love, I'm Kathy Kloves and this is my husband Steve Kloves." The homely lady beamed down at me. Immediately I got the feeling that this place would definitely be better than anything my mother could provide for.
My case worker pushed me gently on the back, "Go on love, introduce yourself."
"Hello, I am Troy Francis Armitage."