Thomas Hewitt: End Of The Line

The Burning

Warnings: Violence, gore and a whole lotta words. This is a long one, y'all so buckle up.

"You know she's lyin'," Hoyt muttered to himself as the engine turned over, all the while his eyes were glued to the window.

He lingered, foot hovering over the pedal as he waited for Mama's face to appear. He felt her eagerness for his absence follow each movement that led him farther from the house with a skip in it's step. She wanted him to leave and why he'd obeyed was beyond him. It irritated him to think there was a part of him that perhaps longed for his intuition to be wrong, but he couldn't deny it. Even though he couldn't see her, he knew she was just behind that window wearing a satisfied grin as he slammed the gear shift to reverse.

"You know she is," he growled.

He begrudgingly peeled his gaze off of the house as he harshly spun the wheel before he pressed down on the gas to send gravel flying in her direction. She was playing him, there wasn't a wreck, just the bittersweet taste of betrayal awaiting him on that road. Bitter, because it was Mama who had put the knife in his back, but the sting from the wound she'd dealt was what made it so sweet. If his own mother would rather associate with rats than love her own flesh and blood, if there really was nothing out there waiting for him, then whatever he had to lose was shot to hell and it was Luda Mae who had pulled the trigger. After all, what did he have to lose? Nothing he hadn't lost already, he'd lost that without having to try, he knew that. It made him who he was, having nothing to lose. Hoyt had no master, not one person who could make him bend, not anymore. Mama used to. He'd always imagined one day she'd wake up and realize she did have a son, one who provided for her, made up for what his daddy lacked. That she'd save that sickly sweet way she looked at Thomas for him. Just thinking about that expression made him nauseous, that and the way Tommy just ate it up. Oh, he lived for it, that acceptance. Hoyt had gone a lifetime without so much as a kind glance in his direction from that woman and he figured the hurt he felt, that illness that her unwavering adoration for Thomas stirred up was what made him tough as nails, 'cause he didn't need it like Tommy did. Hoyt didn't need to be loved. In fact, he'd fallen so deeply in love with being hated that the glimmer of fear in Mama's eyes he woke up to each day had started to feel like acceptance. The way that girl cut her eyes to him and spoke words of poison each time she opened her mouth felt like a kiss, but it was Thomas' blatant disdain that truly fulfilled his addiction to it. Mama may have lit the match, but Tommy sure saw to it the bridge was burned. The girl had her hand in it too, she fanned the flames by telling him just what they thought of him. You think they love you? Oh, she thought she'd won with that line. They had nobody to blame but themselves for what was coming to them.

He grabbed a fistful of dip after he'd put the car in park and shoved it into his already full lip. He sat there a moment, watching the heat waves hover over the cracked asphalt. The engine sputtered, struggling in the unforgiving weather and he scoffed at it as he ripped the key out.

"Piece of shit," he swore violently under his breath as he kicked the door open.

He squinted underneath his hat in the blinding sun as he stood to study his surroundings with his thumbs shoved under his belt. He wandered to the yellow line in the middle of the road and planted himself there, eyes on the indigo horizon. There wasn't a cloud in the sky to block the setting sun and not a damn thing on that road to make Mama an honest woman.

He curled his lip as he nodded his head, "Guess it's just me," he said as he turned to spit, but stopped when something caught his eye.

A crow was perched atop something hidden in the tall, dry grass and staring right at him. It cocked its head and chirped out a warning as Hoyt's boots ventured closer.