Horror

Boy in mans clothing part 2

Her voice was too much. She sounded like my mother.

“'kay,” she said with a snort, before taking another drag. She seized her purse and added, “I'm gonna go get a bag from Twigs and then I gotta go to work. Can you watch Max for awhile?”

“Sure. Whatever. Go blow him for your fix.”

She scoffed and slammed the door behind her. I knew that's what she was going off to do. That bitch didn't have a dime more than I just spent, no matter what she claimed. If I hadn't already shot up a bag, maybe I would have given a damn. Frankly, I didn't care all that much about what she did. My love for her had faded over the years, but she was a hell of a partner in crime. Some days, I really thought about leaving her. Other days, I knew I'd die without her. Our relationship was something like hellfire, but it was all we knew.

My brain was wandering. I grabbed my torch and my pipe.

Numb again.

I'm not sure how much time passed. I spent a few hours lying on the sofa, watching the hand on the wall as it ceaselessly ticked for every valuable moment that I wasted. Tick. Tick. Tick.

The topless woman on the television screen let out a wild yell, but all that I could do was sit there, staring at the fuzzy blobs of flesh that I could only assume were her breasts. That's the only problem mixing heroin and meth. You're awake, but you shouldn't be, so the world starts turning into a fuckin' dream. Everything is blurry. Time stands still, or it moves way too fast. I really couldn't tell you which. Hell, the last two years have felt like days, but every day feels like a year. That's what addiction is like. That's what a habit is like.

Suddenly, I heard a sound. The hairs of my neck stood on end and there was an itch I just had to scratch. Wide-eyed, I clawed at my neck and looked around the small apartment. Then, I heard the sound again, and I was prepared to grab my gun from the safe across the room. I could probably put in the combination and fire at the intruder before he'd even notice me. Sneakiness was key.

Sweat was dripping from my brow and down my neck. Body odor permeated the air of our poorly-ventilated, stagnant shit-hole of a place, and I knew it was mine. I hoped that the bastard couldn't smell me. Then, I heard it again. A scream. A high-pitched scream. Was this a fuckin' woman? Was I about to shoot a broad? What was a broad doing in my apartment? The clock says it's 3P.M. Amber is scheduled to work til eight.

“Hungry!”

Hungry? Weird thing for a trespasser to say. Was this a goddamn cannibal? Frowning, I looked around the corner and my heart settled. Well, it settled as much as it could after a guy just twirled the pipe, anyway. The voice belonged to Max. My kid. My boy. My pride and joy.

“Alright, alright,” I murmured, putting a cigarette in the corner of my mouth and lighting it. I got to my feet and added, “You scared Daddy, ya know that?”

He looked down at the floor, nervously twisting the fabric of his pajamas in between his tiny fingers.

“Sorry, Dada.”

I gave him a nod as I made my way to the fridge.

“You're damn right you are,” I replied, digging through a myriad of leftovers. Smoke billowed out of my nostrils and I took the cigarette from my mouth to ask him, “How's, uh, a juice box and some pizza?”

I had no fucking idea how old that pizza was, but it was all we had and I couldn't let my boy starve. There was a pain in my heart. Not being able to provide for my kid was one of my greatest fears, but it was our sad reality. If it wasn't for Amber, the kid would probably be dead in a ditch somewhere.