O flower that waves a miserable life [ FIRST DRAFT]

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I was snapped out of my nothingness by the sound of my alarm clock, which was my favourite part of Sarah's song from Alex G. I opened my eyes and was momentarily blinded by the light that had already made its way into my room, I stretched lazily and then counted to ten. Zero, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine and finally ten. After counting to the end, I jumped out of bed. This was one of my strange rituals, somehow helping me to rise from the bed, without it I wouldn't have been able to go beyond this portal of dreamland. Well, it wasn't very complicated so why wouldn't I perform this simple act. Some people would find such things pointless, but I wouldn't count their opinion very much. After all, there are people whose lives are also pointless and yet they choose to continue rather than end it. Well, unless someone kills them. Without things that made little sense or inexplicable phenomena, the world would be morbidly dull. Anyone who was wise knew that even ordinary things needed the extraordinary to become truly complete. As I stood like this I looked around the room as if something had changed in the room, and it was logical that nothing of the sort had happened. I also looked at my phone, it was still in the same place and, of course, still charging. However, I decided not to unplug it yet, I was going to come back for it later, right now my priority was to have a quiet breakfast with my grandmother away from the buzzing of my phone. I put on my slippers and hurried out of the bedroom. I had no idea why I seemed so happy today. Maybe it was because I had finally woken up in a house where no harm was going to happen to me? I didn't have to fear that ''dad'' would pour a bucket of hot water on me or that he would beat me with a belt until I resembled a tiger in appearance. The only thing that refused to obey me today was my lower limbs. I was very hopeful that they would improve by the evening and I would be able to go exploring again. I wondered if the police had got involved. I shook off these thoughts. One must first get through the day before thinking about the night. I slowly walked down the stairs and nimbly made my way to the kitchen. Already from the stairs one could smell a wonderful almost paradisiacal aroma. That meant only one thing. My grandmother was, as usual, making one of her divine, delicious breakfasts. She was famous throughout the village for it. Every week on Friday she would send Precla on a tour of the village to carry food to the poorer homes. My grandmother was a very good soul, but my mother did not think of her that way at all. ''Father,'' on the other hand, was indifferent to her. However, I always wondered what had happened between my mother and my grandmother. Whenever I mentioned my grandmother, I always felt the icy stare of my parent on me. However, one event in particular is etched in my memory. I was seven years old at the time. I told my mother about my grandmother sharing a story with me about the sons and daughters of the Gods. She then told me that she hoped that I too would be of service to the Gods and get into their good graces. The expression on my mother's face was terrifying. Her eyes were wide open, frightened, but also empty, not a shred of light in them. Any warmth or kindness? That was gone, it had all fled from her. Like air from a punctured balloon. In place of these emotions came something ugly and evil. It wrapped itself around her heart like thorns. Her lips trembled. Even now, as an almost grown-up boy, I was terrified, but what was a seven-year-old child to say, who didn't even realise what it was that had so enraged his mummy. It was the only moment I thought she would really hit me. However, despite such a concentration of anger coursing through her veins, she simply crouched down beside me and put her hand on my shoulder. I almost jumped back. It was then that she said to me: ''That woman has no access to this house, at least not anymore. She took something very important from me in advance, and she will not take you from me either. Your grandmother may be pretty on the outside, but you don't even know how rotten her inside is. No matter how much she tries to do good, she will never atone for her past. There will be a special place in Hell for people like her. Please don't tell me any more about this witch. You don't want Mummy to grieve, do you?' I just nodded, and then my mother visibly relaxed. I snuggled into her, and she wrapped her arms around me tightly. Two things have changed since then. We never spoke of my grandmother again, well, except when we discussed matters concerning my departure. The second thing was that my grandmother never really crossed the threshold of my parents' house again. Many times I saw her pull up in front of our house, get out, look in the window of my mum's room, get wet in the rain and drive away. At least I was able to spend the holidays and May at her side. I wasn't going to admit it to my mum, but it was the time spent with my grandmother that was the best of the year. I was just pulled out of my musings by an old lady.
- Hello, Eisheth, is something wrong? - she looked genuinely concerned about my momentary disconnection from reality, and I hated making anyone worry about me unnecessarily.
- No, nothing. Sorry, I was musing, and so changing the subject, what's that wonderful smell? You could already smell it from the stairs - I smiled.
- I think you know exactly what it is - she looked at me waiting for an answer.
- You're not talking about...