Rugged To The Core

Chapter 33

Abel

     They were at it again, he still hadn't gotten used to it. The incessant fighting, it irked him. Each time it started, he felt trapped, he hated the vulnerability coursing through his veins. Worse part: he didn't know how to stop it, he was clueless. He would peer at them not being able to decipher what was staring back at him. Not understanding why his mother's face always sagged, why she not so subtly cried next to him every night, thinking he was asleep. He never understood why he could never look the man he was taught to call dad in the eyes.

     Abel would seek refuge under his bed alongside Roe – his imaginary friend. For a long time, all he knew how to do was listen. Then he learned to speak and then he grew mentally and that was the alleviation his family needed.

     Abel tossed the Rubiks cube aside, it fell off the bed, onto the rug. He rose up, at thirteen, he stood tall at five-ten. Staring at the ajar door, he strained his ears. His father's voice harshly resounded but it was the feeble responding voice that stopped him from crouching and rolling under his bed.

     Abel ambled out, now in the landing, he saw his father looming over a small figure whose face he couldn't see because of her curtain of dark shiny silky weaves. Her head was tilted sideways and her hand was behind her hair, stroking her cheek.

     Suddenly, Abel was detected, his father suddenly felt his presence and turned to him, he stared at him awhile before turning back to the frail woman before him.

"Go home, child." He ordered calmly. "Go be a good wife to your husband."

With that, he stormed away.

     The young lady dropped to the floor and burst into tears, she choked on her sobs, cupping her head. Abel hurried to her, he knelt before her and stroked her tear stained cheeks.

"Sochi, please..." He uttered. "stop."

"Ah, Ugo." She held the hand that was stroking her cheeks and brought it to her lips, planting a lingering kiss on it. "Okay, I won't cry. I promise..."

     Abel silently watched her as she took a minute to compose herself, sniffling and rubbing her eyes with the pad of her thumb. Her shimmery brown eyes met his, the corners of her mouth crinkled as she beamed at him.

     Abel let his gaze travel south to her protruded stomach, he broke into a grin and began stroking her belly. He made an incomplete heart with his index and thumb. With mist in her eyes, Sochi chortled with delight as she completed the heart; joining her fingers against his on her belly.

~*~*~*~

Sochi...

I miss you.

     Settled on the floor, Abel lifted his eyes to the dartboard embedded against the wall. He gripped the dart missile, scraping the pad of his thumb against the peak. He threw his arm back, hurling the small missile at the dartboard. It was a perfect shot, an inner-bullseye.

     It was his mother's birthday, things didn't go the way he wanted them to. He'd waited under the scorching sun for hours, he'd even cleaned up, wearing a crisp suit – something he detested. But it was all to no avail. Abel had called her, she'd ignored the first ten calls before she finally opened the door, she hadn't let him in though. Maria Grace had told her son to go home.