•did you get enough love, my little dove?•

~dreams or memories~ chapter four

Third Person POV

A four year old August sat cross legged on his disheveled living room carpet as he rolled an old, plastic toy dumpster truck across the floor. Voices and loud music swarmed through the room and surrounded him, far louder than a toddler should ever be hearing.

All August could see was legs and sneaker clad feet as he put his toy down and began looking around the room for a familiar face; his mother.

She had set him down in the living room when people first started arriving at the house, she'd said she'd be right back, it's been three hours.

August was fine for a little while but now he really had to use the potty and he was getting hungry as his mother had forgotten to feed him breakfast and it was nearing dinnertime.

Due to his mother being absent from most of his years growing up, he wasn't very well developed.

August had trouble walking and he couldn't form sentences very well so attempting to stand up on his own in the crowded room was a struggle. With some difficulty, August stood from his previously seated position and took a second look around the room, the only difference from his slightly higher vantage point was the smoke hovering throughout the air.

He let out a string of small coughs as he tried to walk towards the kitchen but no one seemed to notice he was even there. August's mother wasn't in the kitchen when he entered so he went to the next place he imagined she would be; her room.

If he thought walking on level ground was hard, climbing the steep stairs of his home up to the second floor was one of the most difficult challenges of his life. If it weren't for the unstable hand rail connected to the wall, he wouldn't have made it.

When August finally got to his mothers' door it was closed and he could hear weird noises coming from it. He usually would have knocked before entering her room but he was worried about his mother, so he immediately opened the door. He was met with the sight of his mother on her bed in only a bra and underwear with a naked man on top of her.

August didn't know what to do, he had no clue what was going on or why his mommy was so close to the man he didn't recognize. He was left standing in the doorway as he watched his mother silently.

"August, what are you doing up here? Mommy told you to stay downstairs!" His mother screeched out as soon as she realized he was there, pulling away from the disgusting man that reeked of cigarette smoke and vodka.

"M-Mommy?" He asked, cowering away from her high pitched tone that hurt his delicate ears more than the music had.

"You've been a very bad boy, August. When Mommy tells you to go away, you stay away." The man sat back and watched with a cruel smirk on his face as August was berated.

"S-Sowwy, M-Mommy." August mumbled as tears began rolling down his face. He didn't have a very good feeling about what would happen, knowing he was in big trouble for interrupting.

"You should be. God damnit, I do so much for you and how do you repay me?" She chuckled dryly as she got off of her bed and moved closer to August's shaking frame. "By being an ungrateful fucking brat." August whimpered when his mother wrapped her bony hand around his upper arm and gripped him tightly, pulling him out of the room and down the hallway. He went limp as her nails dug into his weak, pale skin and drew blood, leaving scars for years to come.