The Child of the Moon

Chapter Nine

9.

Tonight, I'm still in my clothes from today. I didn't pack any clothes, and I guess nobody thought that far ahead to get any clothes.
Jove and Astra pass out quick, so I'm stuck there, alone, thinking about life.
My eyes lay upon the sky, glaring through the window. The dark sky glistens with lights and stars and billboards are shining, making it hard to sleep. Buildings piling and the highway is racing with cars. When my head turns up to the sky, the waning gibbous moon is main event of the whole night sky.
The idea that the Moon is my mother is overwhelming. Everything I've known about science seems unbelievable, now that I know the truth about Astronomy, and who knows what else is fake to protect everyone on Earth?
Now that I know the Moon is my mother, it's like I have a big responsibility. I kept being told I'm important, but for what? I wasn't even allowed to chase after a Child of Pluto because I don't have the scepter.
They say all these things about the scepter, but what does it really mean? What does the scepter even do? Do I get more powerful when I touch it all of a sudden? What power will it give me?
Then the ultimate question pops into my head:
Does my mother even love me? And if not does she even have the ability to love?
My body shifts away from the window, and on to the other side of my body. I pull the blankets over my head, not wanting to think such thoughts, but my brain keeps thinking of outcomes to the problems.
I want my head to stop thinking about this. I just met my Mother yesterday. I don't want to be thinking about if she loves me or not.
Tears swell in my eyes. They begin to fall, faster and faster, making my pillow and mattress wet. I don't know what to think anymore, since I've been told I'm a Child of the Moon.
---
I eventually cry myself to sleep from having a mental breakdown.
But I have another dream again.
And, no. It's not Astra's, nor mine.
It's someone else's.
I'm in a house, and it isn't mine. It's even smaller than mine. There is one floor, and an open space, with kitchenware, a stove, and a table. The walls are peeled down even worse than 478 Magihild street, and everything is worn down. I move my way into the edge of the kitchen, where it has three doors two open, one leading to a bathroom, and one to a child's bedroom, filled with drawings and a small bed. From the child's bedroom, all you can hear are cries and shouts of pain.
I walk at a slow pace into the child's room. In the corner, is a woman with dark brown hair, ruffled all over the place. She is grasping on the liquor bottle with one hand, and the other is hanging above a boy that is about three years old. The child has shining blond hair, is wearing shorts and a t-shirt that has multiple rips in it, and is shrieking the cries of pain. The woman's hand comes lashing down on the child's bare leg.
My voice is lost inside the dream when I attempt to shout at the woman. She can't hear or see me. I'm forced to deal with watching the young child sob, and shriek from suffer.
My eyes form a puddle of water. They continue to form on the wooded land of this room, and dream.
"Stop!" I attempt to call out, my throat choking on the words, but I still can't be heard. I reach out for the woman, but my hand passes through her, just like in Astra's dream, where the woman passed through my figure.
The woman tosses the bottle of whiskey on the boy, making the bottle shatter, and leaving the boy with cuts all over.
"You're... you're worthless," she screams at the child, "Just like your father. For.. for leaving me behind with a son like you!"
"I... know." The boy peeps out, with all of his strength. "I'm sorry, mother."
"You better be." The woman croaks out in a slow tone. "I'd be better off with Susan's son, who actually obeys Susan. You need to obey me more, son. Do you hear me?"
"Yes, mother." The boy shakes in fear, and the woman punches his eye. The boy clutches it and winces.
"And don't you dare show any weakness around me again."
The dream ends, with me staring into the other side of the room, where Phoebus is staring directly into my eyes, in retaliation.
---
I wake up, dripping in sweat, having the urge to go to Phoebus right now.
I push the covers off of my body, and dash to the door. I hear Jove mumble, "Where are you going?"
I just answer her with two words, since her eyes are half open and she's talking like the woman in the dream: very slurred.
"To Phoebus."
She gives me an odd look, and then an "Okay". She passes out, right on the bed again.
And I take the key to the room, sitting near the TV. I barge open the door, and shuffle my way to the room next door. I aggressively knock, until Phoebus answers, dripped in sweat, and eyes red.
"Theea, it's not what you think, I'm-"
"No, you're not." I declare, taking his hand. "You're not okay. I know you're not. You haven't told anyone about this, have you?" He nods, more tears coming out of his eyes. "Well, I'm taking you somewhere where it's just us. You're not alone anymore. You don't have to fight by yourself."
I take his hand, and we glide over to random parts of the hotel, until we make it to the top floor, and find a hatch. I push it open, and it reveals the roof, and the city below.
I get up first, and Phoebus follows after me. I'm still have a hold of his hand. We both perch down on the center of the roof.
Phoebus continues to hold my hand, instead of pushing me away. I know he's not okay. That boy was him, there's no doubt about it. I don't want him to suffer like this. I don't care if my heart is pounding, or if it wants me to kiss him. Right now, there's a greater deal at hand.
"I'll help you." I look up to him. He's around 6'0", while I'm a midget at 5'1", so everytime I look at him, I have to glance up.
"Are you sure you want to listen to me? I don't want to harm you with any of my stories." Phoebus glances down to me, his eyes still flowing with tears.
"Yes. I do." I say, "You have no right to suffer. If you are hurting, I want you to know you're okay, and that you can tell me whenever you want."
Phoebus sighs. He doesn't looks towards me. I can tell it aches him to talk about it. He doesn't want to have a refresher of the pain. "She's just been abusing me, ever since I remember. She never gave me enough food, enough water, enough love. Every night she told me how she wanted my father back, and how I was an idiotic kid that was a reminder of her lose." The tears stop coming. It's more like his body has turned numb from the pain.
"Phoebus," I mutter, giving him a hug, and making my stomach leap, "You don't have to tell me. I know it hurts, and you can tell me whenever you want."
He nods. He doesn't talk for the rest of night. We both sit there, in each other's arms, waiting for the Sun.
We don't make it to the sunrise, though. We pass out before dawn.