An X Reborn

Prologue

Stealing isn't hard. Once you overpass the negative aspects of it, it's not such a bad thing. It's an impulse; a way of life for some—survival for many.

Dark amber liquid sloshed against the insides of his mouth, burning its way down into his stomach. Its taste was bitter and unsatisfying. It swelled the tongue and numbed thoughts. It painted a dark wall over them until his buzz subsided and a hangover pulsed against his skull.

He always hated beer. Beer symbolizes weakness; it was for those who weren't strong enough to cope with their own problems. It was a crutch for those seeking a solution. He was the son to a strong, single mother, an not a once had she ever relied on alcohol to ease her pain.

She was so selfless. She had traveled to hell and back. His father had abandoned her, broke her, belittled her; he left her with nothing to stand on, or to fall back on. Yet, through it all, there wasn't a dent put in her determination to live. She was independent and self driven. She needed no one to hold her hand; nor did she want anyone to.

He shook his head at the thought, he didn't frolic in the past. X moved on and never look back, always holding on to the hope that maybe one day he would forget it. Liquor was the only medication to mend the bridge between the past and present for him. And he loathed it.

Throughout his teenage life, the young X struggled. Terrible grades, falling in with the wrong crowd, and self-worth would do that to a teenager. He didn't have friend, he had comrades. Boys who stood alongside him while they broke into jewelry stores, banks and other various stores that caught their eye. Some got shot, or killed; others caught and taken to jail. Those who lived on, like himself, continued to do what they knew how to--steal and take what they wanted. For him, he only cared about himself and his mother up until her death.

One of their last topic of conversation was his father. X didn't know why his father left, but he didn't need to know; he didn't want to. He had already justified in his mind that his father was a selfish, pussy loving asshole. His father didn't want to be a father, hell, he'd already proven it.

His mother often struggled with the idea he blamed her for his father not being around. Though, X made it clear his dad's whereabouts were not his concern. He enjoyed being in the dark when the topic of his dad arose. Not knowing was less of a liability; less of a temptation. It kept him from caring about the man.

"Your dad--he just wasn't ready to be a parent. We were young, he had a life ahead of him. He didn't want to stick by a sixteen year old drop out."

The reminder always made X shutter. She had been only a few years younger than himself when she had given birth. So young, and yet still diagnosed with cancer at thirty-five.

Tears burned at the back of his eyes, and rage coursed up the veins in his arms. He hurled the empty bottle at the wall, a string of curses falling from grit teeth. The sound of the impact smashing the bottle to shards subsided the anger licking at his insides.

Fuck whoever owned this shitty planet. Like he hadn't been through enough shit growing up, but to add his mother into the mix? Could any high deity be so cruel as to deprive someone of all they have?