“Until you can handle things on your own, you will be coming here to help out. Working for free. It won’t go toward your debt. I’m a giving man, but even I have my limits.”
“Okay.” My voice sounded dejected.
“Promise.” Wakeman offered his pinky, and I reluctantly took it.
“P-promise.” It felt heavy on my tongue, as if I’d just signed my life away for my mother.
The house was dead silent,but that wasn’t unusual. Mom had found a new man to occupy her time which meant I was left home alone for however long it took for him to grow tired of her and toss her ass back my way.
Just thinking about my mother made me feel exhausted. Maybe she’d stay with this one until I graduated. My last year of high school was just around the corner, and then, bam, I was free.
It was the same old routine since I was eight years old. The first man to leave my mother was dear old dad. One day he came home, packed his shit, tossed a few wrinkled bills at mom, and left. I’d been devastated and lost. I had no idea why he’d abandoned me. Whenever I asked my mother, she’d break down.
After nine years of the same old shit, I was a professional. I should have a certificate hanging on the wall.Certified in handling depressed crazy bitches.Making my way into the kitchen, I checked the fridge, ready to eat a Lunchable.
As I opened the fridge, my stomach growled, letting me know one Lunchable wouldn’t be enough for the night.There is no way I am cooking dinner so late. I still have my end-of-the-year essay, and I need to get ready for multiple exams. It will take every ounce of my remaining energy.I reached for it blindly, only for my hand to land on cold glass.
“The fuck?”
I knew for certain I’d picked up groceries after school yesterday. After playing basketball with some friends from school today, I was looking forward to a snack. I opened all the cabinets, and there was nothing. Not even the pots and pans that were practically covered in rust. I raced out of the kitchen and stopped short of the small living room. The tiny television was gone, and so was the futon sofa.
“No!” I ran over to my bedroom and opened the door. I didn’t care about anything else. My room was the only place that was all mine. The lock on the door was broken, and my heart sank.
I took in a shuddering breath as I toed the door open. The scream that threatened to break free got caught in my throat as I stared at my empty room. Gone were my posters and tea lights. Even my clothes. All that was left was the tape and tacks that once held all my shit up.
A loud creak broke through the silence of the small house. I turned on my heels, ready to fight the burglar. Maybe they came back to steal more shit from me. Although there wasn’t anything left and the little things they’d taken weren’t exactly high in price. Still, it was the fucking principle of it. I’d beat them until they were nothing more than a splat on the sidewalk. No one stole from me and got away with it.
“Kee?”
I dropped my hands, but they were still balled up as I left my empty room and found my mother standing in the living room. She was practically glowing. She wore a dress that looked expensive as hell, and her bright blonde hair was done up in some fancy bun.
“Mom, what the fuck is happening here?”
“Oh dear, that language is unbecoming of a lady,” a man said.
He walked into the house, instantly going over to my mother and laying his hands on her in an all too familiar way. It made my stomach turn. The idea that my mother had found another no-good piece of shit to lay up with made it feel as if a needle was being jammed into the back of my left eye. The man had bright green eyes and dark brown hair that was full and swooped back. There was an air of importance surrounding him. He wore a fitted gray suit with a dark blue tie. At least this one seemed to have a job of some sort, and by the way he dressed, a well-paying one. His arm dropped from her shoulders and wrapped around my mother’s waist, all while he sported a con artist smile.
Most people would call me childish for my reaction, but most people can suck on a smegma-covered cock. No one knew the shit I’d been through in my life when dealing with the woman who gave birth to me. It didn’t matter who the guy was when they broke her heart, and they always did. I was left to pick up the pieces. It wasn’t exactly as easy as bringing my mother ice cream, either. No, it was a living hell not even the devil himself would use as punishment.
“Fuck you.” I glared at my mother. “Who is this?”
I shook my head. I didn’t really care he’d leave just like all the others, but I also needed to grab onto the situation. I was caught off guard. I hated being in the unknown, especially when it came to the insane woman who’d given birth to me.
“Never mind. Where the hell is my shit?”
“Kee, now that is no way to talk to your mother,” the man said.
Who the fuck is this bozo? Five seconds into my mother’s cunt, and he is already trying to step into the fathering role. Those were the worst ones to deal with. They had some sense of entitlement, as if they felt big and strong for stepping up.Newsflash. I don’t need a fucking father and especially not now.
“First, don’t call me that. My name is Keegan, and second, fuck off. Where is my shit? She didn’t pay for any of that. I did. So where is my stuff?”
The man seemed unbothered by my tone. It was almost as if he’d expected it. He shook his head at me like a displeased father.Well, fuck him. He is no one but the cock my bimbo of a mother has been slobbing on for the month.Truthfully, my mother wasn’t a terrible person. She was just selfish and tended to get her heart broken more often than not. However, none of that mattered when all my shit had mysteriously disappeared.
“Kee, be nice,” my mother pleaded.
She can’t be serious, right?My teeth ground, and my jaw started to ache with how hard I was clenching. That headache was starting to blossom into a full migraine. Colorful spots danced in my vision. Why couldn’t I be left alone? I was so close to being out of here or at least fully free.
“Fine, where is my stuff?”