Cigarettes Out the Window - Horrid Henry

005 𝐅𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐡 𝐂𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞

[3:17 P.M]

It was Saturday, so today I would not have classes. But he preferred going to school than staying at home with his parents, sometimes he went down to the bathroom or to eat something without anyone seeing him.

Since he was little, he had the habit of eating alone, because his parents did not allow him to sit next to them, or he simply ate the leftovers they left on the table, and he, who has to be responsible since he was little, would have to wash the dishes. and order them from largest to smallest.

He never complained about this, perhaps because she was afraid of her parents' reaction, or just because she had no right to go against an adult.

But he was always envious of his brother Peter, he never had to do all the household needs, he never had to experience blows, he never had to sleep in fear. Peter was like a God in the presence of the house, mom and dad adored him, he always had the toys he wanted and never got yelled at.

Why does everyone hate me, but love him? It didn't make sense, I try several times to imitate Peter, doing his homework, doing his laundry, making his bed. But he never made it, in his mother's eyes he would always be the horrible nine-year-old boy.

He grew up, he is fifteen years old, he knew a lot about life, he no longer plays with cars and he is not interested in anything. But ever since he discovered the box of cigarettes in his dad's drawer, and tried a little bit of that cigarette, he became addicted.

He loved the pleasant sensation of the air in his nasal things, expelling the smoke and flooding the room with that exquisite gas. A month, a month he had been consuming a stimulant.

He already had the slightest suspicion that his parents knew that he smoked, sometimes in the mornings when they saw him leave his room they whispered among themselves with unpleasant eyes. His brother, who was eleven, thought he was only self-harming, in part true, but he still doesn't understand the limit and danger of smoking.

"We should kick him out"

He heard from the other side of the room, precisely in the living room, he knew that voice, it was his father's.

"I think the same, I'm sure he smokes"

Well, you're right, but the boy with curlers sweated, he felt his hot body and his heart beating desperately, it wasn't that kind of beating when he was with Ralph, this was fear, panic, dread.

He expected some punishment from his parents, but never that they wanted to take him out of the house, because he would have nowhere to go, Ralph's parents would not put up with him being in their home. But he didn't want to stay at home either, he didn't know where he would go, he didn't want any more blows.

He ran down the stairs to her room, locked herself in, and went straight to her bed. She covered her entire body with sheets and snuggled into her legs, but first, he grabbed a package from the table.

It seems that at the end of it all he was still the same horrible child crying alone curled up in her.

And he inhaled the addicted drug, knowing that he would die of asphyxiation if he didn't get out of the sheets.

It seems that at the end of it all he was still the same horrible child who cried in solitude curled up in it.

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