Morituri te Salutamus

Chapter 4

Egens (Needy)

I HAD NO CHOICE, NOR WAS I GIVEN ONE

Fourth in Line

I miss my mother. Yes, I said it. I miss my mother. Is that not acceptable? I can't say I don't, because then I'd be lying to myself, and they always told me not to lie to myself, or to anyone else for that matter. My mother didn't say that, of course. It's what the guidance counselors told me, and I believed them. Like most twelve year olds do at that age. The abuse at home was enough to shove a child over the edge of brokenness. Adding on a mother who was attached to a violent, drunken bastard should've killed me the second week of sixth grade. But it didn't. Like always.

My own little world inside my head has been the safest place I've had since I became an Awakened. Time and time again, I find myself trying to convince myself it's not worth the effort. Now, I don't have to be afraid of being kicked in the ribs for forgetting my manners or slammed into a wall for mumbling when talking to an adult. Nonetheless, I've always been the odd child. Father ran away soon after I was born and my mother couldn't hold a penny to her name. In and out of jobs, always with another boyfriend. Until she met Jonathan, but I won't talk about him more until later. Day after day, I would struggle to find meaning with school and life. The combination of dyscalculia and dyslexia rendered me useless in the class room. Every math test looked like it was written in Latin and to figure out the sum made it even more impossible. Teachers would offer help but to no avail. My mother couldn't afford the medication, so my brain would run wild 24/7 with thoughts.

Back to Jonathan. An abusive, drunken man with a passion for cars who never relented. He would've been a good person if he hadn't done so many wrong things. Terrible, indescribable things that no one should ever do. But it hadn't mattered to him, as a person with not a care in the world to start with. Wherever my mother met him she wouldn't say, but I was certain he had crawled out of a sewer or some bar. He was an "aspiring artist", he'd say, and one day I'd regret being so rude. As far as I know, he's still painting fruit baskets and disfigured babies.

When I died, he was full of vodka and tobacco, prowling around our kitchen, looking for something to eat. My mother happened to come home later than usual from her miniscule job at the local pawn shop. Jonathan was immediately on edge, trying to find out what she was up to.

"There's no reason you should be coming home at 10:20 at night when you get off at eight, darling. I might think you're cheating on me." His fist clenched on the granite countertop. My anxiety spikes to higher than ever before.

"Jon, I wasn't doing anything like that. Thomas needed me to stay longer to--"

"Thomas, Thomas, Thomas--It's all I ever hear from you now. Is he just your excuse now for everything? Why can't you just tell me the truth; you're leaving me in the dust. Well, I've had enough of this," He grabbed her wrist with a violent wrenching motion. A single shriek shot through the quiet, autumn air. A move reckless enough to break a woman's heart. Maybe my mother has learned by now, a man like him can never love someone properly. I knew the moment his hands snapped her arm back, there was no turning back. Tears spilling down her cheeks, sputtered words were failing to escape her lips.

"Jonathan, p-please, not in front of--" His rough arms wrapped around her small frame, choking her silently. Before Mother could think less about her oddly-bent arm and more about her safety, the glistening eyes fluttered closed as her body became limp.

My initial reaction was to cry; I didn't know what was happening at the time. My scrawny nails scratched and tore at his eyes. A moment of silence was expelled as his heavy grip twisted my neck backwards. The pain was harsh but existed for a short period of time. Coarse sobs were filling my ears as the cold fluorescent lights slipped away.

To this day, that house stands empty and lifeless. My mother left Westgate the next morning. Not giving a second thought to maybe staying for my funeral. Maybe it was too painful. Maybe she was just selfish. Jonathan was arrested and probably hasn't seen the outside world since that night. We've both forgotten the feeling of a breeze, sun on your skin, or even blades of grass beneath your fingertips. Most certainly, you don't have that kind of experience anymore when you've passed. Little things that, in fact, you treasured most are just ...

Gone.

I mean, what do you say to a kid that's lost everything meaningful in life who just wants to laugh again?

To smile again?

To love again?

To be loved again?

There isn't anything left for me now. One day, I'm going to fade. Not dramatically, like most do. Not even emotionally, like telling all my friends good-bye. I'll just...slip away. When no one's around, or they're all down on the Surface. All alone in the Refuge.

Did I ever tell you about my favorite spot here? It's the only secluded area left. Out in the distance, on what humans call the "horizon", is a tall forest, circling the barren landscape. To get out there, all the way, takes some real determination. The only one to make it that far has been me, that I know of. Not even Tenebris knows I go there. About every full moon (yes, we can see the night and day cycles) I wander in the dark until the branches block out the starry skies. It sounds dangerous because it is. When I first came, Oblitus would tell me stories of how people got lost out there and never came back.

 

I'm planning to become one of those people.