Dares, Weed, & Dumb Dates. (ImmortalFox)

A Look Into Aleksandr Vitaly

I used to think that when you dog-eard pages, or when you used the cover of a hard-cover book, you were disrespecting liturature. I know now that I was wrong.

Books having creases or rips in their pages made them even more exquisite to look at. Not only did books take you away to another place with one story, but they also had a story of their own.

The book that's sitting in my lap right now has a long story to tell.

There are creases from dog ears. From myself, and my mother. And even though I have yet to read this, I knew there were writings in the margins. She always had to speak her mind.

I always adapted books from her. I don't know why. She just always read, and I would want to know what she was reading.

She never told me the stories or what it was about. When she finished it, she would hand it to me, and say "Take your own journey".

I never understood that much when I was younger. About why she needed to take her journeys off to magical places and get lost into books for hours and hours on end.

The particular book that I have right now, is the last one she read. The last one she gave to me. The last one that she would ever give to me.

She said she was tired of it. She didn't want to dream of these places anymore. She wanted to be in them.

And she offered to take me with her.

"But what about daddy?" I asked, I was older than I made myself seem to her. I was a mommy's boy. She never steered me wrong.

She had kneeled down to my level, and looked me in the eye.

"Daddy is living his own fantasy right now. With all of the girls he brings into our house. Onto our bed. He doesn't need our help." She had sounded so...sad. I didn't like it when mommy was sad. So I just nodded, took her hand, and let her lead me into her study.

"Sit down and relax Aleks. We'll be in our fantasy soon."

She had left the room.

I did as she asked, and picked up a book I hadn't read before.

My body relaxed, the book coaxing me into sweet ignorance.

She came back with the normal snacks and tea she always brought when we read.

"Drink it up now, my sweet boy." She mumbled, pressing her face into my hair.

I did as she asked.

My mind went hazy as I went back to the book.

That's all I remember from that day.

I woke up in the hospital a few weeks later.

I was shocked.

And I wanted my mom.

None of them would tell me where she was or what happened.

Atleast,  not until a therapist got there.

She told me everything.

That my mom was in a bad stage of psychosis, and had tried to kill me. She successfully killed herself.

They saved me though. She tried to poison me.

After they released me, the whole thing hit me hard.

All I wanted was my mom.

As I got older, I forgot what it meant to be alive. I was just going through the motions.

My dad eventually got remarried.

Neither of us ever spoke of my mom and if we had too, we always said she left. Just that she moved. And she was never coming back.

My second year of middle school was when it hit me the hardest. I was alone. Always in pain.

I started dressing different. I came up with a new attitude. I didn't want to be picked on for being my scrawny self.

I started taking bullying with sarcasm. They eventually stopped.

I was no longer just going through the motions. I was putting on a front.

Freshman year helped me discover ways to see my mother again. To devel into long conversations with her.

I remember the first time, still.

She had started crying. She hugged me. Told me she was sorry. She told me that I was growing up handsomely.

I never accepted her apology.

One day, she stopped showing up. So my drug usage slowed down.

Weed was the only thing I ever did after that, and it wasn't like that was an everyday thing.

The day that just going through the motions really stopped, was during my Junior year. Eddie came back to me.

Sure. It was a couple of days ago now, but still. I felt better. I felt complete again...

Now as I stare down at this book that I havent touched since that fateful day, I wonder if I should read it. If I should see what she wrote in the margins. What she thinks of it.

I take a deep breath, and open the book.