𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐒, ㅤsbi&co

Making Up For The Years We Both Lost

"Tom,"

A hand stroked his golden hair out of his face. "Tommy." He opened his eyes to brightness. The TV, that was playing Friends before, was now playing George Lopez.

"Ma..?" Tommy asked, looking around groggily to get used to his surroundings.

"Have you seen my medicine?" His mother asked, her words slurred and her eyes lidded.

"No," Tommy rubbed at his eyes. His whole body ached, his head feeling like it was going to fall off any second now.

His mother only hummed, going to look through his baskets of toys."What are you doing?" Tommy sat up reluctantly.

"Jus' go back to sleep."

"But-"

"I said go to sleep, Tom." His mother's tone grew stern, warning. Badbadbadbadbad—

Tommy lied back down. "Can you-"

"Tom-"

"Can you just turn the light off?" He talked over her, pulling Lamby closer to his chest. His SpongeBob pajamas made him feel like he was sweating bullets.

"No, Tom." She continued to look through the baskets. "After I'm done I will."

"I have school tomorrow-"

"Just-" His mother's patience was growing thin. She sighed. "Look," She stood up, stumbling. She caught herself on the wall almost tripping over her feet as she walked over to the curio cabinet.

She grabbed a music box from it. "Here." She spun the knob a few times, setting it on his bedside table.

"Now please try to go to sleep, okay? Your father will be home in a few hours and you can't be awake then."

There were a million questions racing in Tommy's mind, but he kept his mouth shut. He didn't want her to get more upset than she already was. "Okay."

His mother didn't respond. She sat down heavily in front of the baskets and continued looking through them.

Tommy turned to lay on his side. He stared at the music box. An angel was standing above a baby in a crib. Every few moments the crib would move back and forth. He recognized the arm broken on the angel.

The music slowed and soon came to a stop. He grabbed the box, twisting the knob as far as he could, setting it back on his bedside table.

A gasp came from his mother as the front door opening was heard. "Shit," She muttered under her breath, mumbling some unintelligible words. "Pretend you're asleep, okay?" His mother whispered to him, leaving the room and closing his door quietly. Tommy heard the door lock. The light was left on.

He just continued to stare at the music box. He never really understood why his mother and father were like this.

Everyone he knew had nice parents. They had mothers who didn't always have medicine to take. They had fathers who weren't as loud and mean as his was.