Mère

Chapter 1

Drowning is a comfort. Death trails slowly in front of me. I am not afraid. The further I sink the further I move away from myself. My consciousness is my sickness. I would rather drown a hundred times than to plunge into my mind again, for that is where the demons live, but now…
I am in darkness. I am floating yet I have no form. Where am I? I can’t see, perhaps I can, however all I see is the dark. Are my eyes closed? I feel no resistance when I try to open them, nor do I feel the urge to close them. Do I even have eyes? There is nothing around me…this place is filled with the absence of light. Where is my body? I have no echo when I speak, am I even speaking? Is this the voice in my head? My consciousness? I can’t feel the wind on my skin…not only because I have no body, but because I don’t think I am moving either. What happened to me? I remember a feeling of sinking…like something was pulling me down and then this. Black. Perhaps I am unconscious? No, how would I be able to think so clearly if I were unconscious? I can think, therefore, I know that I exist. The question is, where am I existing? I can’t ask anyone. I am alone.
It doesn’t help that I’m afraid of the dark. Perhaps it comes from a childhood trauma? I can’t remember my childhood and my memory is somewhat fragmented. I know who I am…was? Surely, I am still the same person. I remember that I went to school…so I was a student! I must have been young, however, I can’t remember my childhood, so I must have been a bit older than a child. A teenager…yes! I am a teenager, therefore, must have went to high school. It seems I do remember certain aspects of my life. I remember being in class looking out the window. It was autumn. The leaves fell from the birch trees, leaving the ground stained with an ember glow. A zephyr blew them around in small circles and they chased each other like children at the playground, playfully bumping into one another.
“Sebastian!”
“Yes sir” I said, startled out of my daydream.
“If you want to pay attention to the outside then perhaps that is where I will throw you!”
“S…sorry sir”
Mr. Palmer was considered quite the brute at our school, always lugging around a giant briefcase in his left hand, while leaning to the right, to compensate for its absurd weight. He disliked people in general, however, he disliked me in particular for my constant daydreaming. Although he was quite brash, he was undeniably a good teacher, however, whether or not he was a good person was questionable. I never cared for his type of people, the loud, arrogant external beings. I had instead found an allure to introverted people who had internal struggles and deep thoughts. The reason why I detested school so much, and was constantly daydreaming, was because school never encouraged me to explore myself. Even though I was such an inward person, I knew so little about myself, as if I inhabited an empty shell, that I would retreat to in precarious times. I, like so many people I knew, struggled to find happiness, especially during those days. I couldn’t wait to get home and escape from that hell. I walked home because my house was not far from the school. Those walks were often lonely, not because I had no one to walk with, but because I just felt alone, especially with the person I usually walked with. His name was Daniel and he was one of my neighbours. The reason why I say one is because I did not live in a single house. I lived on the ground floor of a large complex with a green roof, which had three rows stacked upon one another, with five apartments in each row. This only made up one section of the complex and there were six sections in total, which made a total of ninety apartments, therefore I had, technically, ninety neighbours.
Daniel was a dear friend, yet we had little in common, except for the fact that we were both into making stupid memories. He had a slim face, brown skin, black hair, and was physically fit. He often used his strength to bully me and my other weaker friends…we probably had it coming though. We would often share an awkward silence on our way home, however, when reunited with our other friends we became quite chatty. I lived in a small apartment, like all my neighbours, and I lived with my mother and our dog. Our dog’s name was snow because his fur was bright white. My mother picked out his name. My mother was…as I can remember, very dear to me. She had a dark brown skin tone and black hair, with slight streaks of grey. Back in her day, she was a model and claimed that she passed on her good looks to me. Don’t all mothers say that? I was an only child; therefore, my mother’s attention was always given to me, at least for a time. My father…I don’t know what happened to him, for I cannot remember, however, I do remember often seeing my mother crying, with her face in her hands, while sitting on her bed. If she cried for him that often then he was probably dear to her heart…I also remember her speaking of him quite fondly. She told me he was a good man…I assume that he must have died then…yes. He did die when I was just a baby. I remember my mother telling me the story of how he died…he was murdered. She was infuriated and despondent when she told me. She seemed unable, at the time, to let go of her hatred for the world, however, seemed to alleviate her pain through religion. She was pious and so was my father apparently, for she told me that he introduced her to Christianity. She prayed in the morning and before she went to sleep. She prayed for me and the family, even though she was no longer close to them. She always said that she was praying for me, because she wanted me to have a good life. I genuinely believed her, however, I had trouble with faith myself. I remember going home that day and seeing her in her bedroom, lying down.
“Hello, my darling.”, she said sluggishly sitting up, with a wince of pain in her face
“What’s wrong, mum?”
“Nothing, it’s just my back again.”, she held her back with one hand while supporting her sitting position with the other
“Do you need anything?”, I asked with a child-like innocence
“Just a hug my darling.”
Despite her degenerating back my mother always gave me the tightest hugs, often hurting herself in the process. She had a severe form of arthritis in her spine, causing her to lose a lot of her mobile functioning. It had gotten so bad that she had to quit her office job, due to her being unable to sit for long periods. Even though she no longer worked there, her company paid her a portion of her old salary, because she had worked at that company for twenty years. We lived off that salary. We were not poor; however, we certainly were not well off. I had not realized at the time that I was fortunate, for although we did not have much money, I had a truly loving mother, which was more than I deserved.
I went back to my room, which was a sort of controlled chaos, in that, everything seemed to be everywhere, however, I knew exactly where everything was. It had my bed in its corner and the cupboard directly opposite it. There was also a drawer at the foot of the bed and a window, which the bed was under. My sheets were blue, and my blanket was red with rings as patterns. I often covered myself with the blanket even during hot nights…probably for some sort of comfort. I often spent hours in my room without leaving, for I enjoyed the solitude. I found my greatest comforts in being alone but also found my greatest terrors. It is human nature to want human contact, yet I tended to despise it. The room was my cave and I was a nocturnal creature, often having many sleepless nights. I was so cut off from the world that there were times I forgot other people even existed. I believe it was…a few days later when I saw Abel. Abel lived in the complex as well. He had a brown complexion with slicked-back hair. He was an odd fellow, as he always came off as extremely outgoing to others, however, I knew him to be quite introspected. He was deeply religious, which is why I was always surprised that we got along.
“Hello?”, said Abel, as he knocked on the door
I recognized his voice and opened the door, “What are you doing around these here parts?”, I said, with a Western accent
“Well I thought I would mosey on down to your humble abode and check out the fresh meat for myself…the townsfolk tell me you’ve been causing a real stir partner.”, he replied, with an even more ridiculous accent
“I don’t know what you’ve been hearing sheriff but uh…I sure as hell am no trouble-maker.”
“This town sure can’t fit the both of us, son”
“Then I guess you have to die”, I shot him with my “revolver”
“Arrghhh…tell my mamma I love her”
We acted like idiots quite often. Although, for however many pointless conversations we had, we had just as many deep discussions. We were young yet had profound takes on life and his was very religious. We usually disputed over his faith, for although I wasn’t an atheist, I was by no means religious either…how could I be? Abel was one of those people everybody just liked. If I weren’t his friend, I would have probably been jealous of him and would have resented him internally. He was a huge ally at my school, for if it weren’t for him, I would have had almost no social standing. I was unpopular at school because I kept to myself. I would even go so far as to not say a single word to any of my classmates for the entire day. I would only speak to people who I knew, like Daniel and Abel. The three of us formed quite the trio at my complex, always causing trouble and breaking the rules. Whenever we got caught, we would get grounded, however, I had a talent for escaping those situations, for I have never been caught, for anything serious, before. There was once a time when Daniel and I were playing soccer and he kicked the ball through a neighbour’s window…he stood in shock and when he looked to me for advice, I was already gone. I did this all the time and because of this, I have hardly ever been caught for anything.
The three of us were unstoppable, except where it counted. We would often go our own ways in school, for we all went to the same school yet had different friends. I did not have many friends and would try to hang out with Abel as often as possible…for he was my shield from social anxiety. I was bullied…however it had more of a perpetual psychological effect than a physical one. I was not a particularly strong boy, nor good looking, or aggressive, at first, and because of these factors I was an easy target, especially for the head bully of my class. He was a tall boy, around my height, extremely popular, physically inclined, and quite wealthy, the perfect recipe for a villain.
“Hey Sebastian!”
“What?”
“I heard you and your mum live with a dog. Is he your father now?”
“Shut up!”
“What did you say?”, he threw a paper ball at my head and his friends laughed
“I said shut up!”, I stood up, with tears of anger welling in my eyes. I often got so emotional when I was angry that I would cry.
“And what if I don’t…huh? Are you going to tell on me to your dog?”, he stood up as well
I took a wild swing at his face and landed a clean punch to his jaw; however, he was much stronger than I was and took the hit. He grabbed me by my shoulders and head-butted me twice to the bridge of my nose, causing me to bleed profusely. He then landed a punch straight on my face, below my left eye, on my cheek. Before any more of my blood had been spilled, Mr. Palmer jumped in with his signature growl of contempt.
“Enough!”, he shouted, with an unnatural loudness. He ripped me from Kyle’s gargantuan, caveman hands to safety, and sent me to the office so that I could go home. I walked home that day feeling utterly defeated. I felt like I was worthless. “How could I lose like that?”, I thought, in a scrupulous haze. “And to an idiot like Kyle!”. Just at that very moment a hand rested on my shoulder. I turned around.
“What do you want, Abel?”, I said, disconcerted
“I heard what happened…I told you not to let that jerk get to your head”
“With all due respect, you weren’t there. Don’t look at me with your righteous condemnation, oh holy one.”
“I’m not judging you; I’m just saying that you can get a bit emotional sometimes and that can get the better of you, if you don’t keep yourself in check. Don’t forget that I’m here if you need to talk.”, he continued to hold my shoulder
“Sure.”, I said apathetically, while my back was already turned to him.
Once I reached my home, I went straight into my room. Like I said before, it was my cave. I sobbed for a while, until my pillow was drenched with my tears. My mother eventually heard me and got up, with discomfort, from her bed to investigate.
“Darling?”, she inquired… I kept quiet, with my face buried into my pillow.
“Sebastian…my boy, are you okay?”, she asked with the sweetest voice
I turned to her, “No!”
She was startled by my swollen face, “What happened?!”
“Nothing”, I said, while choking on my tears
“My sweet boy”, she said, while caressing my head in her arms. “You can tell me anything.”
I continued to weep in her arms, I felt vulnerable but safe
“I want to know who hurt you, my baby”, she said while holding my face with her hands, staring into my broken eyes.
“Was it Kyle again?”, she asked, with a look of hidden rage
“Yes…”
She was incensed and looked like she was capable of murder.
“That piece of shit, he doesn’t get attention from his parents, so he takes it out on my son! Just wait until I tell his father about this!”, she said to herself.
She was so enraged that she wanted to get up and walk away to her room, I assumed, to make a phone call to Kyle’s parents. She got up quickly and threw out her back. She screamed out in agony and fell to the floor. I went down to pick her up, which only caused her more pain. I tried my best to help her back to her bed, but I was too weak, so she did most of the work herself. She held the wall and inched her way back to her bed and then slowly lied down. Her sickness was getting worse.