Pavane for a Lost Boy (Or Rather, How to Survive Loss after Rejection)

Chapter Three

A/N: Warning! this chapter contains the following triggers for people affected by such: suicidal thoughts/ideations/attempts, brief usage of alcohol and drug overdose, emotional/mental breakdown, and depression/anxiety. Reader discretion is advised.

Play the song when directed.

I wish for thunder and lightning to kill you.

That last sentence my mother recorded in her audio letter to me continued to replay in my head over and over again as I watched the rain fall in the rough streets of Fort Worth, seeing how most of the people who were outside now hurrying to stay dry and lock up for the day. From the living room window, I caught a few kids who were brave enough to sneak outside and splash around in the puddles before their mothers herded them inside.

The little ones had it easy. All they cared about these days are video games and whatnot. They're known to be a part of the future.

For me, it's a tragic day when I was disowned and facing a world of uncertainty.

My parents and siblings are dead. None of my relatives wanted to take me in for they all hated me as much as Mom did. And after the seven allotted days were up, I was going to have to live on the streets without a dime to my name or even a game plan set up.

(A/N: Play the song NOW!)

There's a whole in my heart.
My soul is bleeding...

I knew that I had zero chance of surviving in the streets. I was too book-smart to consider becoming a gang-banger, knowing that I'd be an easy prey for any member, rival or not. And I did not want to consider selling my body just to earn a measly meal.

I need to free my mind,
And see what I'm feeling...

The best that I could hope for was trying to find a shelter home and see if I could live off some hand-me-downs  or donated food and toiletries. And even though I knew that the Tuckers were kind enough to take me under their wing, I didn't want them to be burdened with taking care of another kid. And if I knew my mother, she might've threatened them not to adopt me.

I was stuck.

But I didn't want to be.

Breaking away from the window, I wandered around aimlessly and paced back and forth for a few seconds before strolling around into the bathroom, looking around and taking in the faint smells of Ivory soap, toothpaste, and Dad's cologne. I opened the cabinet as my gaze caught a bottle of pills.

Antidepressants.

Vicodin.

I remembered Mom taking those when she was going through the post-pregnancy blues after giving birth to Shantay and Camilla as she still kept them around in cases like this.

And then, it hit me.

I didn't have to stick it out in the streets and face being homeless for the rest of my life.

If they all wanted me gone, I would grant them their wish.

'Cause Lord knows, Lord knows,
I'm...

Taking the bottle of pills out of the cabinet, I left the restroom and headed for the adjacent kitchen to look for something to wash the pills down with. I opened the fridge and saw my father's silver flask that held his favorite Grey Goose vodka. I grabbed it and walked towards the small table, sitting down in the chair as I opened the bottle of pills and counted sixteen pills- one for each year of my pathetic life.

You don't have to do this, Demario, I heard my inner conscience say softly, hos voice sad and forlorn. There is always a way out.

But what if I didn't want to take the way out other than the one I was used to? What if I was feeling very tired of everything?