The Bad Boy and Faith

Chapter 7: Obliviousness Beyond Control

"Ash." He said out of breath. "I..." He picked up his pace as he approached her with his arms reached out. She had yet to respond. Her loud scream echoed through the open doors and down the occupied hall.

It only took seconds for everyone to turn in the direction of the commotion, some shamelessly walked closer to watch the drama unfolding. Maybe I was one of them because I had no place here. I should've parted a long time ago to check on my withering mom. But for some reason I was glued to my spot, afraid to bring any attention to myself. Afraid I broke the chain of emotion running along the side of me.

So I stood unmoving, watching, and waiting for their next moves. My eyes flickered to his conflicted facial expression. He took a deep breath and ran his finger through his messy hair. I had yet to observe his features until this exact moment and I was lost for words.

He was cladded in nearly black everything and he screamed I'm-not-the-guy-to-take-home-to-your-mother. I could tell he preferred roaming around in the night time. I sucked in a deep breath as I took in the rest of his towering figuring. Dark hair fell to his neck, surpassing his chiseled jawline, falling over his dark obsidian eyes. His plump lips where swollen red from biting on them so much. He was in serious distress, his hands fumbled as he shuffled from foot to foot. The presence of stubble and dark circles around his eyes showed signs of late nights and late mornings not only that but you could tell he was fighting internal battles and losing.

The funny thing about life is that everyone suffers but so many people still try to hard to hide it.

"What... are y-you doing here? I mean... I heard the rumors I just didn't want to get my hopes up. " she stared at him in complete disbelief, her green eyes widened in shock. She was lost for words but so was he for a different reasons.

"Get your hopes up for what? You know that part of us died long ago and I vowed to never let you back in. That never changed Ash. It still stands. Maybe we can be friends?" His eye softens as he stared deeply into her eyes.

I stood staring at them but mostly avoided glancing his way in fear that he would acknowledge me.

Their silence went on for ten minutes until the lingering figures behind him, which consisted of Layla's friends, interjected.

"Um... Dominic, we should probably go. Layla's been waiting in the car for over thirty minutes. She's going to be seriously pissed." The lightly color hair one said.

Who I now knew as Dominic, sighed for the hundredth time and hesitated as he turned to walk away. I turned to see her now shattered facial expression, this time the tears didn't hesitate to. She broke out into a sprint but not after him, into the opposite direction.

***

It didn't take long for me to get home and when I did, an hour late, it was announced. And she was surprisingly sober. I could tell because her words weren't condescending or gruff and angry.

"You're late. Again." She yelled from the kitchen. The smell of baked goods wafted into the hall as I entered the house. I was pleasantly surprised. She never cooked, ever. Not since Dad.

"Sorry," I responded even though I had never been late.

I dubiously entered the kitchen in fear that she would lash out. The smell of my mom's brownies entered my nostrils reminding me of sunny summers, smiles and movie nights. It reminded me of a time when we were a family, when everything was unconditional and I was the actualt child here to make mistakes. I sighed dejectedly and plopped down on the stool at the breakfast bar and watched as my mom worked expertly around the kitchen. She hadn't been in one in years but she still knew her way around it.

My eyes zeroed in on the new appliances resting on the counter in the not so new kitchen. It had seen a bit of wear and tear. It looked like as if it had never not been in use. The walls had begun to miscolor but this had given it character. It appeared as if the owners liked it this way because the countertops looked almost new. And the tiles looked either intentionally warn or gotten that way from constant use.

"So..." I trailed hoping she'd take the hint and proceed with an explanation for her sudden inspiration to bake.

"SO? How was school?" She turned from the oven and smiled as her drunken nights were pass her, as if we could just pretend it never happened. That's funny. It was all I ever thought about.

"Why are you baking?" I said pointedly.

"I'm taking this to a meeting. I have to meet with a newly launching company, they're looking for investors." She leaned forward resting on her elbow while laying her face in the palm of her upright hand.

"Is that why you're not drunk?" I couldn't help myself. I ruined a good moment before it even had a chance to flourish. I hadn't seen her smile in months, almost years let alone bake and I had ruined it.

Her large lips began to tremble and the smile once there was replaced by pure pain. I looked into her eyes and could see tears forming, planning it's escape. Sometimes you just can't control the pain. It's like I flipped a switch, with the mention of alcohol. Her trigger.

I sighed and stood up to leave but was startled by a sharp grip on my wrist. "Look at me." She said barely above a whisper. I turned slowly to her and watch a steady stream of tears rolled down her face.

"I'm sorry okay. I'll try harder I promise." I struggled to remove my arm from her vice grip, but when I did, I didn't turn around nor did I acknowledge her words.

I wanted to so bad but it had been happening for so long and I was getting sick of not having a mother. Raising myself on my own because she couldn't handle the pain of life.

When you have kids, you give your life away. You live for them but never neglecting yourself. If you fail to do those things, you fail to be a parent, you put your child's mental health at risk. Here I was, floating in life, wishing I could just live. Actually enjoying the sun on my cheeks, laughter with real friends, instead of sitting in my room pretending the characters on the shows I'm binging are my friends.

I rushed up the stairs to my room and slammed the door like I did nearly every day, but today was different because I didn't have to check on her to make sure her drunken slumber wasn't alcohol poisoning.

"I'm leaving." She yelled 20 minutes later. I had been hauled in my room, staring at the ceiling thinking of all the things I could be doing with my time. It had been so long since I thought of doing things with my free time. I could work on some homework or read a book. I even thought about watching a movie but opted out of it considering all the TV I watch.

I decided homework was the best bet. I gather my backpack and headed to my desk

***

I fell asleep. In the middle of the assigned reading. I lifted my head from the soaked book, distraught.

"Ugh... what time is it... what the hell." I looked towards my window, the curtains perched on the rods to let in the now missing sunlight and was met with a pitch black night sky. I turned to the clocked on my bedside and the red numbers told me it nearing half past one.

I listened for any movement taking place throughout the house. My mom usually didn't head to bed until after 2 a.m. Silence echoed through the empty house, the sound of my chair scraping against the floor caused a disruption to the deafening atmosphere.

The creaking of my door sounded down the hall as the light from my desk lamp flooded into the darkness. I hated being home alone.

I entered the dark hall rushing to my mom's door struggling to find her doorknob in the dark. Once I entered I noticed her clothing strew across the floor. But no signs of life. If anything, it seemed off. Slumber rested heavy on my eyelids as I turned and left her chaos of a room. I headed downstairs into the vast darkness of the living room following the wall hoping to stumble upon the light. When I did I was met with an empty living room and so was the kitchen and any other spot in the house I thought she'd be.

I was hoping she just went to the nearest hotel but everything in my mind told me to worry. I ran upstairs to my phone and dialed her number but not receiving an answer. I shot her a text before getting in the shower and heading to sleep.

***

School. Work. Classes. All of it was annoying. Every day this week went as slow as possible and no one would shut up about Dominic.

Dominic this. Dominic that. It was beginning to work the last of the nerves I had left. I saw him every day after school hauled up in a group of girls and roughhousing with his friends. He didn't attend the high school, as far I was concerned he was way too old too. He carried himself with experience, but not lacking in ignorance like every other male ever. I wasn't surprise, even found myself smirking at that. Of course, I noticed my eyes automatically going to his figure, but I always looked away if I felt he was about to face this direction. Call me strange but I was beginning to develop an interest in him and his story. The reason for the bags under his eyes or the reason for his silent distress when no one else was watching.

My interests were still tired of everyone talking about him.

Every day after school I stood at the entrance and watched him interact with everyone around him. He was always smiling when eyes where on him.

I huffed for the thousandth time that week and got out of my seat, packing up and prepared myself to be late home again. Only it wouldn't matter because I hadn't seen my mom in three days. It was late Thursday and she hadn't been home and I hadn't talked to her since Tuesday morning. At this point, my anxiety was through the roof and I was always on edge. As I turned every corner, made every decision. My world would not be right until my mother returned home. She didn't do much for me, but she was still my only family.

I was currently strolling home, walking aimlessly up the street leading to my house wilst biting my lip in deep thought. I stumbled onto my porch once again being met with darkness and silence.

I headed to the kitchen and thought today would be a great day to cook while listening to my favorite tunes. I threw my bag down on the floor at the entrance of the kitchen and took my jacket off and placed on the stool at the breakfast bar.

I headed to the fridge grabbing the ingredients to make lazagna after I placed everything on the counter I figured it would be better if I slipped into the appropriate attire. A large T-shirt and a pair shorts.

I went through all the ingredients needed to make lazagna as I walked to my room to change hoping I had everything I needed. After shuffling through boxes in my closet I finally stumbled upon my favorite shirt. It belonged to my Dad. It was amazing, I could still fit it. Not surprising because when I was younger I thought my dad was the tallest person in the world.

When I got back to the kitchen, I began prepping ingredients, like chopping the vegetables that would go into it. After that I prepared the ingredients for the white sauce, I decided to make vegetable lazagna which required slightly different ingredients from a regular one.

And then I remembered my strong desire to listen to some of my favorite tunes. I wanted to enjoy this moment while I could. While the weight of my mom's alcoholism didn't sit heavily on my shoulders. I grabbed my phone connecting it to the wireless speaker my mom bought for me two christmases ago and shuffled the music on my phone and choosing to skip a few before something to my liking played.

I hummed a long to the music as I stirred the sauce beginning to simmer in the pan. It took 20 minutes to finish the vegetables and the sauce. I began assembling the ingredients in the glass dish after preheating the oven. I made sure the oven was hot and placed the dish on the middle rack.

I laughed as one of my favorite songs played so I rushed to my phone to increase the volume. "Successful" by Ariana Grande blasted through the small but powerful speaker and I couldn't help but sing along and sway my hips to the catchy rhythm of the song. I found myself laughing as I attempted the high notes that Ariana so effortlessly produced

Me being completely oblivious to my surroundings and never practicing safety habits such as locking the door or making sure the security system was on. Just, vital things that would ensure I wouldn't be murdered by an intruder or r***d by robbers. It completely made sense to want to protect yourself but my being the person I was I forgot to lock the door.

I don't know if it was the music itself or just me being dumb but it took nearly 3 more songs from my playlist before I discovered the towering figure resting on the door frame. My phone went tumbling down, face first onto the tile of the floor and my heartrate reached it's maximum beats per minute because I felt like I was about to have a heart attack.

I rushed to the speaker on the counter struggling to end it's screeching sound. "What are you doing in my house!?" I yelled incredulously.