Before us...

Chapter Six

After the events that took place on the way to the Park, Milo had once again taken to his bedroom. In fact, he only ever ventured past the threshold of his door when he required a top up on his liquor supply. He found himself waiting anxiously, for his parents to leave or retire to their respective bedrooms in order to bypass the withering glare and odour of disappointment that oozed from his father whenever they had the misfortune of setting eyes upon each other, in order to ransack the man's stash of assorted alcohol that he always kept on hand. Milo had yet to catch a glimpse of his mother.

Thus, on this night, just like he had over the past few weeks, he found himself with his ear pressed against the door, having heard what he assumed to be his parents calling it a night. It was far too late for any of the staff they employed to still be on the premises.

Milo cautiously cracked the door open, welcoming a slim beacon of silver light to creep its way into his otherwise black habitat that faced the opposite ceiling high glass window that looked out onto the busy streets he had been avoiding since he ran all the way home. He walked at an un-even pace, his bum leg slowing him even more in his hazy state and peaked around the corner of the corridor seeing that the living room and kitchen were pitched in darkness. Sensing he was safe, he continued to the end of the corridor where he advanced into the open space of the living area, the gleaming white of the kitchen counters visible, even in the darkness, to his right.

The drinks cart that his father made sure was always fully stocked, sat ahead of him behind the wide deep blue couch that occupied an intense amount of space in the living area, forcing him to walk around the entire room to reach his target.

Milo limped around the irritant that was the couch and made to grab as much as he could carry before hurrying back into his hole. He would have been successful to, if it were not for his dulled and dry senses that failed to inform him of the blank stare of the woman whom was situated on the hideous couch, and who had watched his entire journey silently.

Rose King had not changed in the slightest since her son had last seen her, although he had been in a similar state to what he was now. She sat, with an air of importance weighing heavily on her dainty shoulders which were held in an uptight fashion, signalling her distaste for anyone lower than herself. A black silk robe decorated her small frame bringing attention to the ash white skin that seemingly glowed in the dimly lit room. Milo was pleased that he took after his father's slightly darkened complexion, as her bony claw of a hand reached over and pressed harshly on a button that masked the room with light. Milo closed his eyes tight to avoid it, before squinting slightly to see that his mother was indicating that he sit down, with a tilt of her head.

Reluctantly, Milo dropped his loot back in place on the cart and moved around it to take his place, his back now facing the cart as his mother sat to his left still fixing him with a piercing stare that appeared unwavering. He shifted uncomfortably, forcing himself to focus on the black tilled floor in front of him, taking a fascinating interest in the barely visible mauve splashes of colour that were imbedded within it.

They sat for a mere matter of minutes before his mother spoke, softly stating that she had;

"Never wanted children. I never wanted to be a mother." Milo remained silently, slightly inclining his head towards her as she continues.

"Your father convinced me that it was something that I wanted, that you were something I wanted... like the naive fool that I was I believed him." She chuckled humourlessly to herself, pausing to take a sip of the blood red wine that she held against her leg, as Milo turned to face the strange women a look of exhaustion on his face.

"You don't have to do this. Your lack of interest in me over the years told me all of this a long time ago." He continued to peak at her out of the corner of his eye. "It's fine, I don't care."