What's Up, Spud? [The Outsiders]

p r o l o u g e

December 31, 1964, 10:35 P.M.

The toxic-like smell of the million bottles of booze in the crappy apartment is filling my nose and making me sick. It's almost New Year's and my so called "mother" is already drunk. It's not unusual though. She always drinks, always. But today, she was just crazy. I didn't like it, I never liked it. It was embarrassing to call her my mother. In truth, it felt like she wasn't. I treated her as such. She has no respect for me, so I had no respect for her. She was disgusting. She was a woman who ran the streets and allowed herself to be picked up by any person for a so called night of "pleasure" and money. But, once I turned thirteen, she stopped. I never knew why because I never cared. It's not like it made a difference anyways. Her being gone every night for hours was the same thing as her being in the apartment, getting her fill.

I heard a crash, glass falling onto the tile floor. It was followed by an angry groan and a pound on the table. I heard the stomping of feet and labored breathing of my mother. She stood at the doorway of my room. I was currently reading a book, not even knowing she was standing there.

I heard her clear her throat with a bold "Ahem."

Acknowledging her presence, I ignored her. I didn't know why she was standing there or what she wanted nor did I care at all. I just wanted some peace and quiet tonight. Was that too much to ask for in this damned house?

"Ahem," She said strictly. I guess she was angered enough now. If I kept this up, she'd probably throw an empty bottle at me, again. I decided to look up from my book. Mentally remembering what page I was on, I closed the book and placed it on my bedside table. She didn't like me reading. She always ranted on how it was a waste of my time and money on buying books instead of working or doing something else. But who was she on giving me advice on how I should spend my time? By the looks of it, she wasted more time than anyone in this city combined. Why should I have listened to her?

"What?" I asked coldly, looking at her straight in the eyes. Looking at her made me sick. She was covered in pounds of makeup that made her look like a retired clown that tried too much. She was wearing the shortest, sluttiest dress that you could ever imagine, it had a hot pink color, which made me gag even more. She was holding a bottle of hard liquor in her hand.

She raised her eyebrow and frowned.

"Pick up the mess you little shit." She slurred, making it known that she was drunk.

I rolled my eyes and shook my head, looking back at her.

"Why should I?" I countered. She squinted her eyes and her dark brown eyes shot daggers at me. Seeing her angry gaze gave me the determination to start yelling at her on how pathetic she was. But I couldn't lose my cool now, it'd be a waste.

"Because I told you to. You do not own this place, I do. And if you decide to start rebelling against me then I suggest you get your useless, worthless ass out of here. Now pick up the mess before I make you!" She raised her voice at the last part. I chuckled. Was she really challenging me? She's the definition of pathetic and she dares call me useless? She heard my laugh and that triggered her. She placed her bottle down on my dresser near the door and walked towards me.

"If you have something to say then I suggest you speak up, hood." She hissed and looked at me in the eyes. Her dark brown eyes met with my green ones. That was it. I could not stand her. My plans of running away were now finally in play.

"That's pathetic, you're pathetic. You reek of cigarettes and alcohol. Get away from me you worthless slut!" I yelled at her, pushing her, which made her impact the wall. As I got up she grabbed my mahogany colored hair by the long braid that reached to my hips. She pulled at it which made me jerk my head back and almost made me stumbled to the hard floor beneath me. I turned around swiftly and punched her near her jawline that made her yelp in pain. I was fully out of her grasp.