His Addiction

Chapter 1: In which she is sent away

It was dark. Dark and damp. I could feel the blood rushing to my dangling feet and the feeling in my arms reside. There I was, hovering about six feet above the ground, my body shaking and shivering at the cold breeze that swept through the room. I let out a pained sob that echoed through out the room.

I was currently being hung up like a chunk of beef being sold at the butcher shop. My face tingled and I could feel my body start to give in. Iron, the taste of metal was prominent as I tasted a combination of sweat, tears and blood. Lots of blood, I could smell it too I could feel it, dripping off my body in slow agonizing drops, each one hitting the grimy floor one after one. My tears streaked down my face, racing down my chin. But it was odd, odd that I didn't feel anything. I could taste and smell but not feel. No emotions came to me and I relished in it. I didn't want to feel, I didn't want to look up and see the body of my mother dangling before my eyes.

I didn't want to see her because I knew I was in the same position. Dangling, grasping onto the last ounce of life. But I did and I looked up at her. But I didn't see my mother. She wasn't smiling like she always did and she wasn't singing or humming the tunes that sounded through out my home. It was a women who resembled my mother. Her head hung low, brown knotted and sweaty locks shadowing her face. Yes, blood was still a prominent feature but it oozed from her body unlike the slow drops from mine. Her once lively eyes were glazed over, hollow and dead. But I knew she was still alive.

I could hear her breathing, slow and uneven, strangled breaths. In, out and a pause then again, in out and a pause. Her breathing cycle repeated, over and over again.

Then he came in, his eyes glazing with furry. He slapped my mother across the face, yet he received no reaction. She stayed there, hanging, half dead and half alive. I reached out to her, without making a sound. I couldn't, I had forgotten how. He cursed at her calling her names, calling her a whore but still no reaction. Then the bad man moved onto me. That, however, captured her attention.

"You touch her and I will end you. You wanted me and you have me, but touch my daughter and I will end you." She ground out, struggling to retain consciousness. Her eyes were bright and ablaze as she told him, meaning every word she said. And then his voice spoke out. Raspy and harsh, his voice sent chills down my body.

"It's a good thing then, that you will be dead in a matter of seconds." He says happily, grinning wildly at the sound of her Impending death. The man pulls out a gun and slowly approaches my mother while I dangle helplessly. It seemed as if he had been walking for years, everything had slowed down. But when he reached her, he whispered one thing.

"Love is weakness." And I had suddenly regained all emotion, all sensation in my body. I kicked and screamed, my voice rasping incoherent words that not even I understood.

The man approached my mother and forced open her jaw. He shoved the pistol of his gun into her mouth and cocked the gun. Her eyes met mine and I knew she was silently apologizing for something she had no control over. I screamed and kicked my legs shaking my head at her. A single tear mixed with her blood fell from the corner of her eye and down onto the floor, my eyes watching it carefully.

Then it happens, the man laughs as he pulls the trigger and a sharp piecing sound fills my senses. I watch as my mother's once lively eyes slowly drain. Every shred of life slowly diminishing from her eyes until they go vacant and something inside me breaks. "Mommy." I whisper, my face drenched in tears and blood.
It's then that I realize the bad man was right, love was exactly what he said it was.

Love was weakness.

Powerful businesses men weren't always the most caring of beings. With money, business management and alliances, men with power always seemed to be busy. Whether they were old or young, they just never had time for another being to care for.