Zodiac Summer

Bad Mornings are Meant to be Shared

Capricorn's POV

⚠️tw: racial and homophobic slurs

My eyes opened up only to squint shut because of the bright light coming through the blind shutters. I didn't feel like getting up to shut the blinds so I turned over to face my wall.

A sudden wave of pain ran through my body. I winced at the sensation. I soon eased into it, realizing this is what I get for talking back to Dad when Mom wasn't there. She wasn't there to intervene. To talk Dad back into a calm state. To make me shut up before Dad grabbed a fireplace spade and beat me with it.

I wasn't even sure why I stayed here anymore. Am I just so used to the beatings that now I can take them everyday?

Vibrations disturbed my thoughts. I searched for the noise to find it was my phone. I slide the device into my grip and check the screen.

Mom: Your dad told me that something happened last night

Mom: Come downstairs so we can talk about it

I mustered up the energy to get out of bed. After that, I walked down the stairs to find Mom sipping her usual morning tea out of a mug.

"Good morning dumpling."

"Morning."

"Did you sleep good?"

"Not really."

"Because of what your dad did?"

"Mostly."

"I'm sorry I wasn't there."

"It's not your fault."

"Can you explain to me what happened?"

"He told me that I was a failure for not getting accepted to Yale. Then I told him that it was a hard college to get into. He got pissed because I was 'talking back' and beat me on the side with the fireplace spade."

"I'm wish I was here to stop him. Are you okay?"

"I just coughed up a little blood." I was pulled into a tight hug. She rubbed my sides with consideration of my bruises. "Why don't you leave him? He does the same thing to you."

"He won't sign the papers. No_" She silence herself. Footsteps were heard coming down the stairs.

"Morning."

"Morning."

"Why are you holding him like that?"

"He said he had a headache."

"He's eighteen. You need to stop babying him."

"He's the baby out of the other two."

"I only have two sons."

"You have three. Capricorn, Cronus, and Dabih."

"Dabih is not my son."

"We created him, so he's your son."

"That pothead fag isn't my son."

"Don't call him that."

"Tell him not to be one and I won't."

"He's gay and smokes a few joints once in a while. You don't have to use offensive terms."

"Well, if they weren't like that I wouldn't have to use 'offensive terms'."

"Who's they?"

"Dabih and Capricorn."

"What has Cap done?"