receptive | kv

prologue : swarm of blue.

prologue | SWARM OF BLUE.

─────────────────────────

  "Watch Deonté." His mother demands in baby pick scrubs that are covered in multi colored rubber ducks. She always throw them on for pretend like she actually still has a job to go to. Putting them on are for her comfort and it soothes her ache. Makes her think of how things once were. At least that's what Von would hope. In reality, it's probably just a ploy for the neighbors. "You can make some bottles, but I got some of my milk already set up in the fridge."

  She always says that and is met with her breast milk still in the fridge untouched. They await for the young baby's latching, but Von will never give that shit to him. It's poison masked as mother's nutrition.

  "Am I clear, Dayvon?"

  "Why he can't go downstairs to Ms. Maple?" Von says with attitude. He's rolling on some cheap fragrance oil from the corner store, his wrist connecting before he rubs the scent in. "I got shit ta do."

  The elderly woman is almost always happy to welcome the newborn in her home. It's not like Deonté was a handful, he was quiet and drained. His labor was a nightmare and the trauma he endured during his birth has strained him. The baby doesn't do anything but sleep.

  "You don't got a damn thing to do but go outside and act like you run shit wit ya fast ass lil friends." Her arms cross beside his paint chipped doorframe. The shit he does brings in money, something she doesn't seem to care about no more. As long as she has it for what she needs it for, she's fine. It doesn't matter where it came from or how she got it.

  "You don't got nun to do either!" Von shouts before he can hold his tongue. "You bout to go get high as shit then come back tweakin', move!"

  He shoves past his mom mainly to avoid her inevitably putting her hands on him. He can hear her storming behind him but he's moving just as quick. It's only so far he can go. Their one story home is from here to there.

  "Who the fuck you talkin' to?" His mother is shouting now, her fists hitting at his back twice. He wants to wince, but he keeps it together. He's flipping back around at a speed and his mother has eyes with fury, but she still backs up slightly.

  Von was taller and stronger but he would never put his hands on his mother. He would have done it a long time ago if that was the case.

  "Ma, I gotta work." His voice is rocky and he wouldn't be surprised if his eyes were glossy. It's ironic he slings the same shit his mom is falling apart from. Who knows how many families he's breaking out there, how many mothers he's turning into his. "I'm the only one making money for us."

  "Von, you watching ya lil brudda. You hear me?"

  Von sucks his teeth and shrugs his arm out of his mother's grip. "Trippin'." He mutters.

  His mother grabs his arm once more but this one has the strength of death, he doesn't even know how she's still able to be that strong. "Ma!"

  "Baby, I be worried about you!" Her eyes are running rapid in search for his. No she doesn't.

  Von can feel it coming. One of her Emmy worthy performances that is gaslighting at it's finest.

  "Everybody be tellin' me bout what you be out there doing. Selling, having guns on you, going up to that street like you got some fucking business over there! You wanna die, Dayvon? Huh? You wan' die boy?"

  Von's tugs fight for him to be free, but are gentle enough for his mother to not lose her hold and stumble. It's like deja vu. This isn't anything he hasn't heard and it's spoken every time she doesn't get her way. It's the withdrawal talking for her but it doesn't hurt any less.