mother dearest | hannigram x oc

Chapter 1: Love is a Curse

When does violence transform a home into hell? At what stage do the cracks burrow so deep within its foundations that a whisper is all it takes for the roof to collapse on top of you?

Is it after you go hungry during the night, falling asleep as your stomach growls, or listening to your parents argue as if it were a lullaby? Is it the time you were unsupervised in the kitchen, alone with the knife as you taste your own blood for the first time? Or, is it when your cheek stings in the pattern of your mother's hand after she delivers the first punishment of many?

Sometimes these moments are exactly what brings the house down. More often though, the house remains standing and the world goes on unaware. Ignorance is bliss as long as the facade remains. A smiling mother-son duo sitting playing together on the front lawn as the walls inside the house groan in agony. Covered in rot and putrefying food. The nuclear family decays against the backdrop of the American dream. The world sits and stares. No amount of thoughts or prayers will ever undo the damage. They believe in whatever is easiest. Unaware of the sickness festering inside their neighbourhoods.

A case of child abuse next door. A school shooting a few streets over. A missing child that people decide was a runaway when all signs point towards an abduction. These little moments stay with a person. Building up inside the hearts of a family like tar on the ceiling of a lifelong smoker's home. You might scrape the tar off and give the home a new coat of paint, but the smell always sticks.

He sits alone in his bedroom thinking. He wonders what would have happened if he remained unaware of the cracks. Could he have lived a better, simpler life if he had never known the depth of human depravity? Sometimes he wishes he couldn't see the filth around him. Smell the rot on everyone he passes. Taste blood on his tongue as he chews through his own cheek as he watches life pass around him.

He looks up at the ceiling. His eyes trace the pale light of sunrise as it filters through his wooden blinds. A blanket wrapped around him as if she were a caterpillar waiting to emerge from his cocoon. Hands rubbing against each other languidly beneath the covers he sighs. His breath, hot and suffocating as it evaporates in the chilly evening air. Nights had been getting colder as winter edged closer. His mother had been getting even less work than usual, they hadn't had heating in months. Final notice bills neatly packed inside the bottom drawer of her bedroom nightstand.

She thinks he doesn't know about their money troubles. She spends like there isn't an issue, bathing him in new clothes while their fridge remains empty. He wishes he could help out, not just for his sake but for hers too, he wishes they could both have a better life. He used to ask her often, he loved her and wanted to improve their lives. But it always ends badly for them both. After years of asking he knows that it is safer to play along with his mother's delusions. She never understands that he's trying to help. Always assuming that he's trying to leave her forever. It just ends in hysterics every time. He loves his mother, he doesn't want her upset, it hurts him when he is the cause of her pain.

He flinches as he hears the sound of the door slamming open on the ground floor. His mother is home. He hadn't expected her home so soon, she had only left home two days ago. Normally she would not be back for at least one more night's sleep. She loved him dearly, but she had her own issues and got caught up in her mind often. He understands she has things she needs to deal with alone, it doesn't bother him too much. He only wishes others could understand this too, her last three jobs had fired her for her outings.

He is used to her disappearing for days on end. He doesn't mind, he knows she still loves him. They understand each other in ways no one else ever can. It's not her fault, he is hard to manage, he knows that. Her absence from their house for days on end has become their normal routine. It was stressful but predictable. His mother is nothing if not a creature of habit. She leaves for three days, she returns, and then all is right for a few weeks. Tonight's arrival felt different though, it had only been two days and she had returned. This departure from her routine unsettled him. Nausea builds in his intestines as he ponders the reason for the change.