Quick Love

"True love is the best thing in the world, except for cough drops."

I... was neglected by everyone.

"What are you, stupid?!" He would tell me as he stomped my head to the ground. It was traumatizing. But it wasn't just him. My classmates would taunt me for every little thing, from the way I walked to the way I talked. I was an outcast, a pariah in their eyes. Even the teachers seemed to ignore me, as if I were invisible.

It hurt so much, feeling like I didn't belong anywhere. I yearned for someone to notice me, to see me as something other than a worthless piece of garbage. But no one ever did. So I kept to myself, burying my pain deep within me, afraid to let anyone get close enough to hurt me again.As I grew older, the pain turned to anger. Anger at the world for being so cruel, anger at myself for not being able to fit in. I lashed out at anyone who dared to cross me. I was only eight.

My mother, I remember the death of my father. I remembered the blood he shed on her hands, trembling with fear in the bathroom sink as the water washed the blood to the sink, turning from white to a lighter shade of red. She looked traumatized; she looked psychotic with her eyes nearly miosis-like. She then saw me. The horror in her eyes as she scanned me for any way out. I didn't know at the time she was washing away evidence of my father's death. Though, as I grew older, I realized father never came home.

She drank. A few days after the incident, she had run. I stayed with my grandparents, but when she came back and took me, she drank like hell wasn't even on her ass. She took a large swig from each of the three beer bottles in quick succession, not leaving time for the dregs at the bottom to settle. The buzz flushed her cheeks pink, making them round and full. She was pretty again. Though, she lost her job.

"You're going away for a little bit," my mother told me as I approached just outside our house by way of the driveway entrance. "I'll see you soon..."

After, a tall, strong man with broad shoulders and long dreadlocks that fell past his shoulder blades in thick braids handed a suitcase to my mother, who had been hiding her face since. She squatted down and set the suitcase down, taking her palms of her hands and holding my cheeks with them lovingly. "Go with him," she said. "I love you," she added as he turned and walked down the drive towards his truck without looking back.

"Mommy..." I faintly cried to myself. I didn't know if she was coming back. I remember his enlarged hand gripping my shoulder, squeezing it tightly.

I don't even remember the name I was given by my mother. The man looked down at my small body. "What's your name?" He asked, his voice suddenly angelic.

I then said a name. A name I don't remember.

"Hm... how about I call you Jake?" he hummed as he picked up my suitcase and we headed to his truck.

As we drove away, I watched my mother shrink away in the distance until she was nothing but a speck. Tears streamed down my face, and the man put a hand on my back, comforting me.

"Don't worry, Jake. Everything's going to be okay," he said softly, his voice lulling me into a sense of safety.

But safety wasn't what I found with him. He took me to a rundown motel on the outskirts of town, and from there, things only got worse. He didn't call me by the name he gave me, only referring to me as "kid". He forced me to sleep on the floor while he took the bed, and he would come back late at night, reeking of alcohol and cigarettes.

One night, he came into the room and sat down on the floor beside me. He smelled worse than usual, and his eyes were bloodshot.

"Hey, kid, you know I love you, right?" he slurred, his hand reaching out to stroke my hair.I flinched away from him, feeling a sense of disgust and fear. I knew where this was going.