Helpless

Part 2

Since this child opened his eyes, what he has witnessed was his mother drinking the bitter cup, either arguing with someone or gathering with a group of similar individuals, raising their voices, incessantly quarreling, making untimely jokes, and pulling at each other's collars. The child who fought with them over food developed a habit of playing with empty bottles. He didn't know that his mother hadn't always been this way, that she wasn't so engrossed in alcohol when he was still a baby, and that she had been a good woman until her husband abandoned her. She couldn't resist the tumultuous waves of life's vast ocean, and he knew nothing of why his carefree and tender mother turned into what she is now. But this young child remained unaware of the magical power held by that bitter cup. He only knew that if his mother didn't drink it, she would inexplicably hit him or scold him, whereas after a few drinks, she became kind, joyful, and good-natured mother, which filled him with mixed emotions. After tasting it once, he understood that it is the bitter cup. At that time, one of those uncles said:

- "Hey, what's your name? Come here, take a look at this bitter thing that these uncles are drinking. Oh my, when you drink a little and go back, the children will nag at you... Here, take a sip..." he said and gave Malik a sip. It choked him and made him cough, tears streaming from his eyes, leaving him struggling for breath. They mocked him, saying, "See, now you know, but later you'll get used to it... You'll think it's just like Zamzam water... You'll reach a point where you can't live without it... just like us..." They laughed mockingly.

Just as those uncles said, only Allah knew whether he would drink it in the future, but at that moment, he had no appetite for the bitter water.

Deep within the child's heart, days were divided into two types: the good days and the bad days. Good days were when his mother stayed at home, her brows relaxed and her face brightened after drinking the remnants from the bottom of the bottle, cooking for him. But the bad days... Oh boy, let's forget about those. May God save her from her downfall, the days when his mother disregarded him, going out to drink, drinking so much that she couldn't find her way back home, and sometimes even falling asleep on the roadside. These were the dark days in Malik's life... He held his mother's fallen head, pleading and crying out loudly, "Mom, mom, let's go, let's go home and sleep... Mom, I'm scared... Someone might take me away... Please, get up quickly..."

As for her, she didn't even have the strength to open her eyes, let alone speak. Even the slightest movement of her eyelashes became a luxury. Before long, Malik cried until he had no tears left, and he tried with all his might to pull her. Yet, for a seven-year-old boy, how much strength could he possibly have...