Moribund

Four

     ***

   Ollie's mind drifted from the pleasant visual of his mother and grandmother singing over his tucked in self, to a petrifying memory of when his mother was ripped from him. 

    A young Oliver, just four years old, jolted awake. He had a terrifying nightmare, not one with furry green monsters with three eyes, generating a sobbing from the small boy. He left his bed, holding onto his noble bodyguard; his stuffed goat toy named Roy, and his shield; a Transformers blanket. Making his way through a dark hall, the fist holding Roy stuck out it's thumb and inserted itself into Oliver's mouth as a comfort. Ollie approached the door, where the real monster that had caused Ollie's nightmares resided. Mark. 

    Mark was Oliver's dad, but he demanded Oliver only address him as 'Sir'. Mark seemed to hate Oliver as much as he hated his girlfriend. Mark called Selene and Ollie names, names that Oliver couldn't even comprehend, but they still hurt. Sometimes, when he was at the peak of his vocal rage, it felt like his words hurt more than his fists. But that was only what it felt like emotionally. Mark would go out for hours on end, come home smelling like alcohol and cheap perfume, and then drink more. Ollie couldn't understand why. Ollie wasn't even in pull-ups anymore, Ollie learned early on to not wail, Ollie could articulate his words as well as a six or seven year old and never threw a fit for a toy he wanted, so why was Mark always so angry at him? The moments after 'hurricane Mark' would hit Selene so hard, she would collapse to the floor, speechless with pain, he would begin, "Be fucking real! I didn't even hit you that hard! Stop acting like that for attention!" His accusations were endless, whether it be Selene was cheating, stealing from him, or simply seeing her mother 'behind his back'. Selene would just stay quiet, staring at him with eyes full of fear that his sweaty, drunken face would be the last image she saw before she succumbed to his abuse. Her fear fed him, he stayed around for the scent of it, hungry for more as if he had been starved since the womb. Ollie saw tender moments between Selene and Mark, too. Once he felt like he got his point across, his point being that her fate rests, quite literally, in his hands, he would apologize. His apology was fake, a ploy to keep Selene wrapped around his finger, but it was so moving, even Mark himself would believe it occasionally. Once the storm died down, Ollie would try to see what his Mama and 'Sir' were doing. Many times he would find them in the bathroom, Mark sitting on the toilet seat, rubbing his head from how much alcohol he had consumed, and Selene over him, rubbing his back and telling him he's going to be alright. In these moments, Ollie would try to squeeze himself in between to at least feel the energy of love, even if it wasn't directed at him and even if the feeling wasn't even love. Although he didn't care for the low grunts a drunken Mark would make while resting his head in his palms, he loved the lullaby his mama would sing to Mark. This lullaby was Ollie's, though. And once he heard it flow from his mama's mouth and into Marks ear, he felt his little heart shatter into bits. He didn't have his mama's tenderness anymore, he didn't have his mama's smile anymore, and now he didn't have his mama's lullaby. Over time, Ollie would realize that his mother gave her all to simply survive day-to-day with Mark, and had nothing in her left over for him. 

    He knew his mama didn't have it in her to comfort him from his nightmares. Especially after a night like the one the Ramone's had experienced. Most nights Oliver had a nightmare, he usually would just sit in the dark, watching his night light until the sun would peek through the blinds. However, tonight was different. Oliver's dream had his mama in it, not just being hurt by the monster, but absolutely brutalized, or as badly as a four year old could comprehend. Oliver knew what death was, but only as a peaceful resting time that his Grandpa had taken. It never had taken firm roots in his toddler mind what could cause death or that Mark could even be a threat as bad as that. He knew Mark hurt his mom, but she was strong, she wouldn't die from it. But as Ollie flicked on his parents' bedroom light, he knew it was too late to ask to be consoled from his nightmare, as another nightmare presented itself in front of him. Mark was nowhere to be found within the room, and Selene lay there. A sight no human should see, let alone a tiny Oliver. Selene, flat on her back, had a pale-purple face and blood vessels, a darker yet similar shade as her face, protruding out and up her neck. As Oliver approached his unmoving mother, his eyes met his mothers strikingly similar green-colored eyes. The iris still resembled his mother's, but the sclera looked like a horrifying red maze. Her eyes bulged out of her head but maintained a look in them Oliver could recognize. It was the look that Selene gave Mark to signal that she was inches, if not centimeters, away from losing her life, but it looks like just that couldn't satisfy his greedy hunger this time. Ollie scrambled up into his mother's bed, taking another look at her swelled, discolored face. His mind didn't allow him to believe it. He laughed, "Mama! You look like a grape!"