Never Say Goodbye

Part One: Finally Falling

Chapter 1

At the sight of smoke I see from my basement window, I knew that she was there. She is back, and waiting my arrival. I smiled, for nobody but myself. I knew that she wanted me there. I feel accepted and wanted in her presence. She brought out the best in me and let my personality shine the way nobody else could. She makes me feel confident; a feature not as prominent as my shyness.

I stripped the socks from my body, and went outside in my bare feet, shorts, and tee shirt. I started to run; the balls of my feet digging into the dirt and propelling me forward with each thrust. The trees around me a blur as I speed through the woods, on a trail worn down from my footsteps constantly packing down on it.

At the end of the trail is a small enclosure make of sticks, by my hands. There are no openings in the enclosure except for the door and a small hole in the roof to allow smoke to escape when I like a fire indoors. Smoke is actively flowing out of the hole, giving me the accusation that she is there.

I stand in the doorway of the enclosure and look at her. She is sitting down on the ground next to the fire, poking it with a stick and adding greens to it from the pile to the right of her. To the left was a plastic bag of cookies. My mouth waters at the sight of them.

"You called?" I say, with a smile added along with it. She turns, her brown eyes lighting up and her blond hair settling on her shoulders as she looks at me, and returns my smile. I walk to her and she stands to embrace me in a hug, wrapping her arms around me. When she releases, she looks up at me, the smile fading quickly.

"Tanner, you're... you're so thin," she says, "I never should have gone on the vacation. Is she even feeding you?"

"She is, Allie," I lie, "and you needed that vacation. I just come here anyways, to get away from her. But it is much more enjoyable now that you're here," I smile, but the hurt never goes away from her eyes.

"I was gone too long," she said.

"Well, I would have to agree with you on that," I say, giving her a wink to let her know that I am just joking. She giggles, and thrusts the bag of cookies in my direction. I take it hungrily.

"Eat up," she orders. I try handing one to her, but she would not accept. "You need it more than I do." I nod, and eat all five cookies barely stopping to take a breath. She just watches.

I lay down on my back, feeling full. She lies next to me and snuggles in, laying her head on my shoulder. We just lay there for a long time, making up for the week she was gone. Then, she finally says, "I just don't understand. A mother is supposed to love her child unconditionally. A mother is supposed to care and nourish her kid. A mother is supposed to hurt when she sees her child hurting. Not starve their child and still have a pantry full of food. It just isn't right. It is repulsive."

Her sudden stating of opinion takes me back. She has never really expressed her feelings about my mother and me like that, or in any other way, really. And I agree with her full-heartedly. My mother isn't a 'mom' or a 'mommy'. She is barely a guardian. More like an... owner.

My mother is never home, which is fine by me. When she is home, if she finds something wrong or out of place with the cleanliness of the house, she has a wax burner standing ready to be poured down my back in a painful rush of intense heat. It feels like a million needles are going into my back.

All the while, she keeps the food locked up in a closet pantry. The only way to open it is a key, which she keeps on a necklace wrapped around her neck, laying a few inches above her breasts.

No money goes towards me, either. All of the money she earns while working at the bank she blows off on drinks and gambling at the local casino. We have been living in her boyfriend's house for as long as I can remember, and he is right with her at the casino. But Jim is smart enough to put money away every week to pay the bills. It is a rare occasion for him to talk and interact with me, which is also fine with me.