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Broken Down Household
folder
Angst › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
988
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Angst › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
988
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Broken Down Household
WL1031: I'm back again people! This is another original of mine"”
Jade: That's right! It's all from the twisted mind of WL! Also, we'd like your opinions of this story so please leave a review!
WL1031: I'm serious
people; I'd like honest reviews for this story. So review!
This story is all mine, people. I own everything about it. This disclaimer means that if I catch it somewhere on the web without my consent, your ass is grass.
Broken Down Household
The bottle rolled to the edge of the table, hovered on the end as if it was contemplating its fate, then fell off. A loud crash followed, littering the floor with the shattered remains. A woman lifted her head from the table, looking around the room with bleary red eyes. She laughed, the ugly sound forcing its way out of her drunken body.
"Who gonna clean dis up?" Her voice slurred nastily into the empty air.
No one answered. Turning her body, the woman struggled out of the chair, squirming around until she was on her feet. The recently occupied wooden seat fell over, the now useless legs pointing towards the dirty white wall of the kitchen.
"Well, it ain't gonna be me."
The woman stood on the cold tile floor, weaving from side to side in her stupor. Moving sluggishly, she collapsed down onto the floor in the archway between the carpeted living room and the kitchen. Rolling onto her side, she curled her legs into her stomach and cradled her hands under her head.
"That boy'll clean it when he gets home."
A few moments later, the woman was snoring loudly. That was how her son found her when he came home from school.
Closing the door quietly, Jason made his way towards his room. He had seen his mother's car when he walked up the driveway and shook his head. He didn't want to go home, but he knew that not going home wouldn't change anything. Things had been going like this for a year, the same dreaded cycle going over and over. Sighing, Jason hesitated in his room before going out to look for his mother. It would be the same as any other week day. That didn't however; stop him from closing his eyes and praying for it to be different.
Walking into the living room, Jason stopped at the sight of his mother curled up on the floor. Her loud, drunken snores filled the quiet space of the room as she slept, totally shutting out any other sound that should have been heard in a normal house. Moving closer, Jason examined his mother. Her dark brown hair was a mess, the curls that she had meticulously worked on in the morning completely matted. Her carefully applied cosmetics were now a sloppy mess; the mascara was complete clumped on her eyelashes, her lipstick was smeared around her mouth and cheeks, and drool was sliding down onto her arm. Her legs were tucked up into her torso, the ripped pantyhose showing steps of pale skin. The black skirt was wrinkled and had seen better days. One of the heels on a pair of pumps hung listlessly to the side, obviously broken off from her fall to the floor. Looking further into the room, Jason saw an overturned chair resting near a small explosion of glass under the table. Deciding that the glass could wait, Jason righted the chair and turned back to his mother. Sighing, he leaned down and picked her up. Her eyelids fluttered for a second, her head lolling to the side. She made a gurgling noise and then threw up on the floor. The contents of her stomach splattered onto the tile barely missing Jason's jean clad legs.
"Clean dat up will you, boy?" Sharon's drunken voice garbled into his ears. She closed her eyes as he carried her through the house to her bedroom. She raised her hand to caress his smooth cheek. "Y-you're a g-good b-boy, Jason."
Jason carefully laid his mother out onto her bed, making sure to lay her on her side. Stepping back from the bed, his vision blurred as he watched her sleep. He refused to wipe at the tears rolling down his cheeks.
"I know, Mom. I know."
Getting out of her car, Sharon walked into the house, the door to the garage making a mechanical whirling sound before setting down into place. She had a long stressful day and just wanted to relax with a nice cool drink. Reaching up into the cabinet, she pulled down a glass tumbler. Turning around, she grabbed a bottle of vodka from the freezer. Pouring the cool liquid into the glass, she greedily drank it down, knocking it back with a drinker's ease. Shrugging her purse down to the counter, Sharon took the bottle and headed into the living room. Irritated with the day's events, she gulped down more of the frosty, sinful liquid before settling into the couch.
"That bitch didn't know what the hell she was talking about," she snarled, her voice starting to sound a bit slurred. "Oh please, telling me that I didn't have the right to break down after than bastard left. I sure as hell do have the right! That mother fucker ran off with that bitch! Oh, she's just a friend he says"¦yeah right. You're only supposed to fuck your wife like that, not your friends! Oh right, that fucking counselor, telling me that it wasn't about me and that I still needed to live for my son. It's nothing but bullshit." Tilting her head back, Sharon swallowed down a big gulp of vodka, ignoring the pleasant burn that made its way to her stomach. She let a bitter laugh loose, not noticing as the front door closed.
"Nobody cares about how I was left hanging. That bastard left me with nothing, completely hung out to dry like an old towel. Well, forget it! It's all about"”"
"No, it's not about you!" A voice screamed. Sharon turned her head towards the voice, seeing her son standing there with tears on his face.
"Jason, I didn't know that you were"”"
"What about me, Mom? What about me?!" Jason yelled at his mother, letting out all of his rage and frustration that had built up over the past year. "You never even remember to think about me! All you do is suck on a bottle of vodka, trying to forget about what Dad did!" He walked forward, coming closer to his mother as she sat on the couch. He ignored the angry look clouding her face and spoke again.
"Don't talk about that bastard in"”"
"All you want to do is forget. Well, you've been successful. Do you even know what today is?"
"Well, it's Wednesday. Just a regular old Hump Day. It's just another day in the"”"
"No, it's not just another day! It's my 17th birthday and you forgot because you wanted a drink!"
"What are you talking about? Your birthday is on March 24th"¦ which is"¦" Sharon looked up into her son's eyes seeing the anger and hurt lingering in the dull brown orbs.
"That day is today, Mom. Today is my birthday." He finished.
"Today?" she whispered. Her voice sounded quietly into the room, falling completely under the force of her son's wrath. "N-no"¦" Suddenly, Sharon wanted to escape even more. She had forgotten her child's birthday. What kind of mother forgot her child's birthday? Her eyes slid shut, trying to shield themselves from the painful vision before them.
"Well, if you want to forget something else you can forget me too." Jason said quietly, tears streamed down his face and clogged his voice. The anger had completely drained out of his body, leaving him empty. "You know, maybe it would be better if you just focus on that bottle because it is, after all, only about you. You don't have to live for anybody else. All the love you could ever want is in that nice cold bottle."
Backing away from the couch, Jason left the room. His shoulders shaking as he cried out his grief for everything that was lost. Sharon turned her head, suddenly sober, and watched her son go up the stairs. When his feet could no longer be seen, she heard a door close and a lock. Sitting silently on the couch, Sharon contemplated the bottle that she still held in her hand. The frosted glass warmed at her touch as she shook the left over alcohol around. She watched it swirl against the glass before putting it down on the low table in front of the couch. Tears slid down her cheeks as she thought about what her son had said, his voice ringing in her ears painfully.
"It was all for a fucking bottle. All because I wanted to forget"¦" Sharon's body trembled at the feeling of what she had done over the past year. The thought of what she put her son through was more than she could contain; she couldn't force it into that dark, hidden place in her soul. It was too overwhelming to just sweep under the rug. Her head dropped down into her hands, her body curling under the pressure of it all.
"I- I didn't have the right." She breathed out, barely able to get air into her lungs. "Oh God, I didn't have the right!"
Crying silently, Sharon sunk down onto the couch in mourning. She mourned for her son, for her marriage, for the past year and for herself. She mourned for her life and the broken down household that she created for her son. She writhed in pain on the couch, the physical ache a visual sign of the inner struggle she made for control. Opening her eyes, a blurry vision of the bottle came into view. Sharon couldn't help but wonder how many times she thought of it as a friend. It was a horrible friendship that took everything and gave her nothing. Reaching out a trembling hand, she lovingly caressed the cool glass.
Seconds later, the bottle smashed against the wall, the musical sound of glass roaring into Sharon's ears before dropping down to silence.
"When you look back at that day now, what do you think about?"
"I think about how I finally took a stand for myself and for my son."
"And what else comes to mind? What do you feel?"
"I realized that you were right. I did not have the right to break down because my son still needed me. I needed me."
"And you Jason? What do you think about that day?"
Jason smiled and patted his mother's hand. She squeezed his hand back gently in response. He turned back to the smiling counselor and spoke again at the tender urging shining from her eyes. He took a deep breath and then continued with his response.
"I think that was the day that I finally got through to my mother. I had tried for so long to just take care of her and hope that she would snap out of it. I was feeling very desperate before that day because I didn't know where to turn. I wanted so bad to give up"¦but, it wouldn't have been right."
"Why? What made it wrong to give up?"
"Because then I would have been really leaving my mother alone with nothing but a bottle. I didn't want her to go out like that"¦ what would have happened when the bottle was empty again? It didn't want to find out."
"But what made you do it? What really made you fight back?"
"When she couldn't remember that it was my birthday. It just made me angry to see her sitting there and kissing that bottle, instead of wishing me a "˜happy birthday'." Tears came to his eyes and Sharon wiped them away with her fingers. "I didn't want her to forget me anymore."
"Well, I haven't forgotten you since then. You made me remember. It took me a while, but you made me remember to live for you. You helped me to live for myself. Thank you." Sharon smiled softly, patting her son's cheek. "I love you because you didn't give up on me."
The counselor smiled and closed her file book. "Both of you have come a long way. I've watched you both over the last year as you reconciled with each other and with yourselves. The only sad thing I have to say is that this is the last session"
The mother and son were saddened by the news. They knew that this day had been coming and felt sorry for the loss of a good friend.
"Will we be able to keep in touch with you?" Sharon asked, gripping her son's hand tightly.
The counselor smiled again. "Of course! Now that you are no longer my patients, we can communicate regularly. Now, I think that a little celebration is in order."
She turned and pulled out a bag of red plastic cups. Instead of pouring an alcoholic beverage, ice cold lemonade splashed into the small containers. The trio toasted to success and took a sip.
"This is the best drink I've ever had." Sharon said with a smile.
"I know, Mom." Jason said with a smile. "I know."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
WL1031: Okay people, that's a wrap! Now, just one thing; I purposefully did not portray these characters as neither black or white or any particular ethnicity because this could be happening in any family. I wanted to show that something like this isn't just a problem for one specific type of family.
Jade: Hmm"¦that was very interesting to see how this all worked out. It wasn't completely happy, but not totally sad either. You still have this gnawing fee aft after reading this which is perfect.
WL1031: Thanks, Jade! I'm glad you felt that way. It was what I was aiming for; the feelings and not what ethnicity they were.
Jade: Okay, opinions are welcome for this story! Review and leave your comments on how you felt about this story. Thanks!
Jade: That's right! It's all from the twisted mind of WL! Also, we'd like your opinions of this story so please leave a review!
WL1031: I'm serious
people; I'd like honest reviews for this story. So review!
This story is all mine, people. I own everything about it. This disclaimer means that if I catch it somewhere on the web without my consent, your ass is grass.
Broken Down Household
The bottle rolled to the edge of the table, hovered on the end as if it was contemplating its fate, then fell off. A loud crash followed, littering the floor with the shattered remains. A woman lifted her head from the table, looking around the room with bleary red eyes. She laughed, the ugly sound forcing its way out of her drunken body.
"Who gonna clean dis up?" Her voice slurred nastily into the empty air.
No one answered. Turning her body, the woman struggled out of the chair, squirming around until she was on her feet. The recently occupied wooden seat fell over, the now useless legs pointing towards the dirty white wall of the kitchen.
"Well, it ain't gonna be me."
The woman stood on the cold tile floor, weaving from side to side in her stupor. Moving sluggishly, she collapsed down onto the floor in the archway between the carpeted living room and the kitchen. Rolling onto her side, she curled her legs into her stomach and cradled her hands under her head.
"That boy'll clean it when he gets home."
A few moments later, the woman was snoring loudly. That was how her son found her when he came home from school.
Closing the door quietly, Jason made his way towards his room. He had seen his mother's car when he walked up the driveway and shook his head. He didn't want to go home, but he knew that not going home wouldn't change anything. Things had been going like this for a year, the same dreaded cycle going over and over. Sighing, Jason hesitated in his room before going out to look for his mother. It would be the same as any other week day. That didn't however; stop him from closing his eyes and praying for it to be different.
Walking into the living room, Jason stopped at the sight of his mother curled up on the floor. Her loud, drunken snores filled the quiet space of the room as she slept, totally shutting out any other sound that should have been heard in a normal house. Moving closer, Jason examined his mother. Her dark brown hair was a mess, the curls that she had meticulously worked on in the morning completely matted. Her carefully applied cosmetics were now a sloppy mess; the mascara was complete clumped on her eyelashes, her lipstick was smeared around her mouth and cheeks, and drool was sliding down onto her arm. Her legs were tucked up into her torso, the ripped pantyhose showing steps of pale skin. The black skirt was wrinkled and had seen better days. One of the heels on a pair of pumps hung listlessly to the side, obviously broken off from her fall to the floor. Looking further into the room, Jason saw an overturned chair resting near a small explosion of glass under the table. Deciding that the glass could wait, Jason righted the chair and turned back to his mother. Sighing, he leaned down and picked her up. Her eyelids fluttered for a second, her head lolling to the side. She made a gurgling noise and then threw up on the floor. The contents of her stomach splattered onto the tile barely missing Jason's jean clad legs.
"Clean dat up will you, boy?" Sharon's drunken voice garbled into his ears. She closed her eyes as he carried her through the house to her bedroom. She raised her hand to caress his smooth cheek. "Y-you're a g-good b-boy, Jason."
Jason carefully laid his mother out onto her bed, making sure to lay her on her side. Stepping back from the bed, his vision blurred as he watched her sleep. He refused to wipe at the tears rolling down his cheeks.
"I know, Mom. I know."
Getting out of her car, Sharon walked into the house, the door to the garage making a mechanical whirling sound before setting down into place. She had a long stressful day and just wanted to relax with a nice cool drink. Reaching up into the cabinet, she pulled down a glass tumbler. Turning around, she grabbed a bottle of vodka from the freezer. Pouring the cool liquid into the glass, she greedily drank it down, knocking it back with a drinker's ease. Shrugging her purse down to the counter, Sharon took the bottle and headed into the living room. Irritated with the day's events, she gulped down more of the frosty, sinful liquid before settling into the couch.
"That bitch didn't know what the hell she was talking about," she snarled, her voice starting to sound a bit slurred. "Oh please, telling me that I didn't have the right to break down after than bastard left. I sure as hell do have the right! That mother fucker ran off with that bitch! Oh, she's just a friend he says"¦yeah right. You're only supposed to fuck your wife like that, not your friends! Oh right, that fucking counselor, telling me that it wasn't about me and that I still needed to live for my son. It's nothing but bullshit." Tilting her head back, Sharon swallowed down a big gulp of vodka, ignoring the pleasant burn that made its way to her stomach. She let a bitter laugh loose, not noticing as the front door closed.
"Nobody cares about how I was left hanging. That bastard left me with nothing, completely hung out to dry like an old towel. Well, forget it! It's all about"”"
"No, it's not about you!" A voice screamed. Sharon turned her head towards the voice, seeing her son standing there with tears on his face.
"Jason, I didn't know that you were"”"
"What about me, Mom? What about me?!" Jason yelled at his mother, letting out all of his rage and frustration that had built up over the past year. "You never even remember to think about me! All you do is suck on a bottle of vodka, trying to forget about what Dad did!" He walked forward, coming closer to his mother as she sat on the couch. He ignored the angry look clouding her face and spoke again.
"Don't talk about that bastard in"”"
"All you want to do is forget. Well, you've been successful. Do you even know what today is?"
"Well, it's Wednesday. Just a regular old Hump Day. It's just another day in the"”"
"No, it's not just another day! It's my 17th birthday and you forgot because you wanted a drink!"
"What are you talking about? Your birthday is on March 24th"¦ which is"¦" Sharon looked up into her son's eyes seeing the anger and hurt lingering in the dull brown orbs.
"That day is today, Mom. Today is my birthday." He finished.
"Today?" she whispered. Her voice sounded quietly into the room, falling completely under the force of her son's wrath. "N-no"¦" Suddenly, Sharon wanted to escape even more. She had forgotten her child's birthday. What kind of mother forgot her child's birthday? Her eyes slid shut, trying to shield themselves from the painful vision before them.
"Well, if you want to forget something else you can forget me too." Jason said quietly, tears streamed down his face and clogged his voice. The anger had completely drained out of his body, leaving him empty. "You know, maybe it would be better if you just focus on that bottle because it is, after all, only about you. You don't have to live for anybody else. All the love you could ever want is in that nice cold bottle."
Backing away from the couch, Jason left the room. His shoulders shaking as he cried out his grief for everything that was lost. Sharon turned her head, suddenly sober, and watched her son go up the stairs. When his feet could no longer be seen, she heard a door close and a lock. Sitting silently on the couch, Sharon contemplated the bottle that she still held in her hand. The frosted glass warmed at her touch as she shook the left over alcohol around. She watched it swirl against the glass before putting it down on the low table in front of the couch. Tears slid down her cheeks as she thought about what her son had said, his voice ringing in her ears painfully.
"It was all for a fucking bottle. All because I wanted to forget"¦" Sharon's body trembled at the feeling of what she had done over the past year. The thought of what she put her son through was more than she could contain; she couldn't force it into that dark, hidden place in her soul. It was too overwhelming to just sweep under the rug. Her head dropped down into her hands, her body curling under the pressure of it all.
"I- I didn't have the right." She breathed out, barely able to get air into her lungs. "Oh God, I didn't have the right!"
Crying silently, Sharon sunk down onto the couch in mourning. She mourned for her son, for her marriage, for the past year and for herself. She mourned for her life and the broken down household that she created for her son. She writhed in pain on the couch, the physical ache a visual sign of the inner struggle she made for control. Opening her eyes, a blurry vision of the bottle came into view. Sharon couldn't help but wonder how many times she thought of it as a friend. It was a horrible friendship that took everything and gave her nothing. Reaching out a trembling hand, she lovingly caressed the cool glass.
Seconds later, the bottle smashed against the wall, the musical sound of glass roaring into Sharon's ears before dropping down to silence.
"When you look back at that day now, what do you think about?"
"I think about how I finally took a stand for myself and for my son."
"And what else comes to mind? What do you feel?"
"I realized that you were right. I did not have the right to break down because my son still needed me. I needed me."
"And you Jason? What do you think about that day?"
Jason smiled and patted his mother's hand. She squeezed his hand back gently in response. He turned back to the smiling counselor and spoke again at the tender urging shining from her eyes. He took a deep breath and then continued with his response.
"I think that was the day that I finally got through to my mother. I had tried for so long to just take care of her and hope that she would snap out of it. I was feeling very desperate before that day because I didn't know where to turn. I wanted so bad to give up"¦but, it wouldn't have been right."
"Why? What made it wrong to give up?"
"Because then I would have been really leaving my mother alone with nothing but a bottle. I didn't want her to go out like that"¦ what would have happened when the bottle was empty again? It didn't want to find out."
"But what made you do it? What really made you fight back?"
"When she couldn't remember that it was my birthday. It just made me angry to see her sitting there and kissing that bottle, instead of wishing me a "˜happy birthday'." Tears came to his eyes and Sharon wiped them away with her fingers. "I didn't want her to forget me anymore."
"Well, I haven't forgotten you since then. You made me remember. It took me a while, but you made me remember to live for you. You helped me to live for myself. Thank you." Sharon smiled softly, patting her son's cheek. "I love you because you didn't give up on me."
The counselor smiled and closed her file book. "Both of you have come a long way. I've watched you both over the last year as you reconciled with each other and with yourselves. The only sad thing I have to say is that this is the last session"
The mother and son were saddened by the news. They knew that this day had been coming and felt sorry for the loss of a good friend.
"Will we be able to keep in touch with you?" Sharon asked, gripping her son's hand tightly.
The counselor smiled again. "Of course! Now that you are no longer my patients, we can communicate regularly. Now, I think that a little celebration is in order."
She turned and pulled out a bag of red plastic cups. Instead of pouring an alcoholic beverage, ice cold lemonade splashed into the small containers. The trio toasted to success and took a sip.
"This is the best drink I've ever had." Sharon said with a smile.
"I know, Mom." Jason said with a smile. "I know."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
WL1031: Okay people, that's a wrap! Now, just one thing; I purposefully did not portray these characters as neither black or white or any particular ethnicity because this could be happening in any family. I wanted to show that something like this isn't just a problem for one specific type of family.
Jade: Hmm"¦that was very interesting to see how this all worked out. It wasn't completely happy, but not totally sad either. You still have this gnawing fee aft after reading this which is perfect.
WL1031: Thanks, Jade! I'm glad you felt that way. It was what I was aiming for; the feelings and not what ethnicity they were.
Jade: Okay, opinions are welcome for this story! Review and leave your comments on how you felt about this story. Thanks!