Tokki

One

"You stupid girl!!"

SLAP!

"Throwing away good food because it's got a little mold on it."

SLAP!

PUSH!

"You'd better go out there and look in that can. Find something to eat, since my food is too good for you."

Drunk and barely standing, my father pushed me out the door, towards the garbage cans in the back. I'd gotten beaten for throwing away a moldy loaf of bread after taking a bite and immediately gagging.

He didn't care though. It was food that he didn't have to use his liquor money to replace and I could die for all he cared. Just as long as he got his fix. I decided on leaving, rather than going through the garbage that I refused to eat.

As I was walking, I saw my mother limping off the bus and heading home. My father had beat the crap out of her the day before and yet, she still rolled out of his bed and went to work the next day. I mean, she really had no choice, seeing as how he wouldn't let go of the bottle long enough to get a real job.

Sure he did menial tasks around the neighborhood, little jobs around the houses of fellow family members, but only when he needed a quick fix and that was the only thing he used the funds for.

Yesterday, he waited eerily patient for my mother to return home so he could take out his frustrations on her because he hadn't made a dime and he hadn't had a drop all day. Then he reached into her pocketbook, taking whatever he could find, before leaving her broken and crying on the floor in search of his drink.

I walked in to find her slumped right inside the doorway, bloodied and in pain. As terrible as it may seem, I stepped to the side and continued on to my room. I had tried countless times to get her to leave, begged her, cried with her, screamed and cursed ar her, but here we stayed. I was done.

Sixteen year old me, avoided my mother on her journey home. She looked to be so out of it, I was sure she wouldn't have noticed me anyway. Probably mentally preparing for the bullshit she would have to endure once she returned home.

I wandered through the hood, stopping at random park benches, window shopping in front of stores, and taking in the aroma of really good foods around town. Anything to keep me away from home for as long as I could.

Passing through a small playground, I noticed a small boy sniffling on the swingset. Well, at least his demeanor said he was small and naive. Probably came from an awesome family, had amazingly proud parents, and got everything he ever asked for. His puppy probably just died or something, fucking squirt!

I don't even know why I moved in his direction. It was almost like I hated him already and just wanted to get closer to enjoy his suffering. Once closer, though, I noticed he was a teenage boy, one not American, or at least not American born. He startled as he felt my presence creeping up on him, and his slanted brown orbs were the most innocent, doe-eyed things I had ever seen. Immediately I was disappointed to see tears in them.

"Hi," I said and waved a shy hand.

"Hi," he said back in a heavy accent and I wondered if he even spoke English.

"What's...wrong?," I spoke slowly, tilting my head with a slight frown. He only tilted his and frowned the same.

"Why...are...you...crying?," I used one hand to point at him and the other to simulate a tear falling from my right eye.

"Ah," he seemed to understand me a bit at least.

"I...no...hear," him speaking in broken English was the cutest shit I had ever seen or heard.