Atlas finally returned home. His schedule is so busy that sometimes he doesn't even have time to eat. Entering his luxurious home, he takes off his shoes and neatly puts them aside. His mother has OCD, and everything in the house must be in the exact place she put it. God forbid something is out of place or not neatly arranged. His mother would lose her mind, silently throwing things around the room and smashing them. Her fits are so terrifying that for Atlas, they are the loudest silence, followed by beatings from his drunk father because he has to buy everything that his wife broke. But Atlas is always blamed because he's the only one who could trigger such a reaction from his mother. Honestly, his father lives off his wife's money and can't lay a hand on her, fearing he would lose everything. So, the poor child gets caught in the crossfire, having been condemned as the 'scapegoat' from a young age."Mom, I'm home," he said, looking around the rooms for his mother, who was probably wiping down some object for the hundredth time, distrusting the housemaids."Atlas. Are you here?" said the woman without taking her eyes or hands off the dresser. She was meticulously cleaning the patterns and didn't even turn to her son. She only asked him questions to calm her soul, although she would still check everything as soon as she finished."Did you put your shoes away? Wash your hands and use your towel! And hang it back exactly as it was.""Yes, mom, I know. I'll go to my room and close the door until it clicks. And you, keep going, I'll leave in half an hour, I have..."He didn't finish because his mother eagerly interrupted him."Yes, yes, you have piano lessons from 4:00 PM to 6:00 PM, the journey takes 20 minutes, you'll be home by 6:30. Don't be late. Don't be late for dinner. Don't, don't, family dinner..."She said, rocking back and forth and cleaning the corner of the patterns even more vigorously. She spoke very quickly, as if she were in a hurry, although she had been standing in the same place since her son arrived."Yes, mom, I'll be home by 6:30..."How tired he was of reporting to his mother. Every single day, he had to account for everything, even though it was clear his mother knew his schedule by heart. He sighed quietly and went up to his room on the second floor, closed the door until it clicked, and finally relaxed. He lay on his bed and realized that, even though he was a grown man of 20, every time he entered the house, he was that 6-year-old boy again, explaining every move to his mother. He still trembled and couldn't say anything extra, fearing she would start throwing things again.
After lying down for a bit, he went to take a shower. His mother hated his beard, so he shaved his stubble every day. Exiting the shower, he took the perfectly ironed clothes prepared by the housemaids. He got dressed and left his room, approached his mother, and told her he was leaving. His mother looked him up and down and continued knitting. Atlas, making sure his mother found no faults in him, exhaled easily and reluctantly said goodbye, leaving the house. As soon as he stepped outside, he took a deep breath of fresh air. He felt a little better. The realization that such a huge mansion was so suffocating to him. The atmosphere created by his perfectionist mother and his father, who spent money on anything that looked expensive, was so hateful to him that he started saving money at 17 to buy his own apartment. But he had already tried to escape. It started successfully; they couldn't find him for two weeks. But then... his father found him when he was about to go for another free walk, and when he opened the door, he saw his father with a bat. He froze in fear and couldn't dodge the blow to his temple. He passed out for a second and then came to, but the beating continued.His so-called 'father,' who married a woman with OCD with a three-year-old child to get property from his wife's father, did everything to keep his 'beloved' wife happy. Of course, he did it for his own sake and hated his wife and her 'brat.' He beat the 17-year-old boy until he couldn't move, then dragged him to his wife. Atlas, covered in bruises, literally crawled to his mother, who sat with terribly disheveled hair. He thought his father had beaten her, but he wouldn't have dared. Seeing her hands with strands of hair and hearing her trembling voice repeating his name, he realized she was in that state because of him. From that day, he no longer thought about escaping; he saved money and tried to study well to go abroad for a master's degree. It was the only way to leave so that his mother wouldn't worry and his father couldn't reach him.
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Любовь ?| Love?
Dla nastolatkówDo you think a girl who grew up listening to screams of pain from her mother, neighbors, and acquaintances will believe in love? A girl who, from childhood, was told, "If he hits you, it means he loves you," and who cursed all the men in the world...
