every day it's getting closer

It happened just a few days after he and his sister came out of the ootheca. She was merely days younger, and neither of them couldn’t have prevented it. Couldn’t have known.

— — —

The boy pressed his face into his mother’s hand.

“Mom.” No response. “Mom, I’m home.” Not even a glance. She’d been like this ever since he could remember. And no matter what he tried to do, she would never get better. She could never see him. No matter how good his grades were, or how hard he worked to put food on the table, or how desperate he was to get the smallest bit of acknowledgment from her. Nothing worked. If anything, his sister was closer to her, despite her not doing anything special at all. His mom actually talked to her, went out with her, seemed to have love for her as an individual. But not for him. It confused him. What could he have done that made him deserve this? To be cast aside by his own mother? His only crime had been birth. And even then, he hadn’t asked for it.

“I’m getting my first paycheck this week.” He smiled at her, warmth dripping from his every word. Though he was met with none back. He’d accepted it, at this point. There was really not much she could give. He was used to it. “I know Jules said he’d be back soon, but at this point, whatever he left us will be gone in a matter of weeks. I know you didn’t want me away from home for work, but—” She’d never uttered a word about it at all. “— it’s our best bet!” He rearranged the pillows that rested behind her head and ran his fingers through her hair, fixing it.

“This will fix everything.” Edmund sat down by her side, taking one of her hands in his, gently running his thumb down the top of her hand. “You’ll be proud of me. I promise.”

— — —

Blood splattered violently on the door, slowly slithering down until it got to the floor. Little by little, becoming a puddle that crawled under and eventually dripped down the stairs. The death of an era, and the birth of another.