Torment

Tristan

Bold. Drust. The meanings of Tristan. I don't feel like any of these things.

I feel torn. Broken. Living on the streets was always hard, but this was harder.

Finding out this information changed my life forever.

I awoke to the sound of a crash. The third one this week, I thought. I lived on the side of Main Street, so seeing accidents on the road was no surprise. I've lived on the streets since I was nine years old when my dad left my mom and me. Later, we were evicted from our apartment and were forced to live on the streets.

Currently, my mom has given up on finding a job and we have resorted to begging. It's not very practical, but it gets us what we need to pull through for the day. And after an entire day of begging, we head to the local market to pick up the food we need to eat dinner. Carrots, crackers, and an apple. The same thing every night. I don't mind it though. At least we get food, even if we only have one meal a day.

"Staring off into space again?" my mom asked.

I looked at her with a startled look as my mind finds its way back to reality.

"Um, yeah," I sighed, adjusting my sitting position.

My mom looked at me with apologetic eyes, and I knew what she was going to say next.

"Honey I promise-"

"-I know mom, you don't have to apologize. It's not your fault," I reassure her.

I knew she was talking about living on the street. It wasn't her fault. Dad was a drug addict and always abused me. Sometimes, when things got bad, Mom would take the hits for me. Finally, after nine years of torture, Mom had enough money to file for a divorce.

Mom and Dad were high school sweethearts. They got married at a very young age and had a child before they were ready. Once Mom had me, dad began to do drugs. Dad hated me. He acted like I ruined his life like I was the reason he was so miserable. Once I got to elementary school, I blamed myself for my dad's actions. I would go to school every day crying because I knew I couldn't please my dad.

He was the reason I went through a phase of depression.

He was the reason I questioned my will to live.

On the coveted sidewalk by Main Street, I sit here now, thinking about how badly I didn't know I needed him out of my life forever.

A man walked by my mom and me and dropped a quarter in the jar we used for scraps of money. It's the only way we could have enough to pay for food. Mom thanked the man, and he walked away, determined to get to wherever he was going in a fast amount of time.

A few hours later, my mom and I started to count the money that we had made earlier today.

"Ten dollars and eleven cents," Mom counted, giving a half-hearted smile. "I just wish it could be more. You deserve so much more than this."

"Mom, you don't have to feel bad. I love you, and you do so much for me. I couldn't ask for anything more from you," I said, tears in my eyes.

"I'm the luckiest mom in the world to have you as my daughter. What did I do to deserve you?"

She hugged me so tight, I could barely breathe. I didn't care though. It was rare to have moments like these with my mom. These bittersweet, tender moments. I held Mom as she cried until she finally pulled back. She looked into my eyes and wiped the tears on my face that started to roll down.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

Mom wiped her nose on her sleeve and said, "Here, I have something for you."

She grabbed a plastic bag from behind where she was sitting and handed it to me. She gave me a nod as if to say "open it". I opened up the bag and gasped. Inside of the plastic bag was a brown leather journal. It looked fairly new and had the sweet smell of a new book. It even had a brown ribbon sticking out of it so I could hold my place in the journal. It was beautiful. I grazed my hand over the front cover and felt the scaly texture on the tips of my fingers. I couldn't express my gratitude. It was just so beautiful.

"I know it's not much, but-"

"I love it mom, thank you so much!"

We hugged again and mom got up to leave our resting spot to buy our food for the day. I sighed. This was the sweetest gift my mom had ever given me.

I placed my hand on the journal again, suddenly feeling a connection. It was like there was an electric pulse flowing through me every time I touched it. I held the corner of the cover getting ready to open the journal. I lifted the cover and the pages were beautiful. Toffee-colored pages filled the book, making the whole journal feel lighter. So light that eventually the book began to light up.

The light was so bright, it stopped oncoming traffic. One car stopped became two cars, then four, then seven, then hundreds. It was the biggest car crash I'd ever witnessed. So many lights. So many cars. So many sounds. Before I knew it, my eyes slowly shut.

A few minutes later I awoke to the sound of a man's voice. He sounded very professional and strong. I sat up to look at who was talking to me only to find that I was alone. Only me and my glowing journal.

My glowing journal. The man's voice was coming from the journal. I picked up my journal and stared into the bright light that wasn't so bright anymore. A man's face showed up in my journal.

The first thing that stood out to me was his black fedora that was covering whatever hair he had. It had a small gray diamond on the side of it, matching his gray suit and black tie, making him look very official. His chocolate eyes stared into mine, never breaking contact as he began to speak.

"Hello Tristan," he said.