Wild (Cherik Book One)

History in My Head

"There's so much history in these streets...

History in my head,

the people I've left

the ones that I've kept."

_________Charlie TW: Mentions of trauma, domestic violence and alcoholism____

"Mother."

The word slid tastelessly off of Charlie's tongue and lay stagnant in the poisoned air between him and his mother. It was suffocated and mutilated in the lies and nourished and torn in the unspoken thoughts. There was no tenderness in the word, no plea for love. It was almost as if the word hadn't existed at all, some ghostly syllables that dissipated as quickly as they appeared. Too many years had been put between Charlie and his mother. Too many years spent waiting for her to get better, for the situation to get better. That hope became something of a toxic crutch for a long time. And Charlie had finally learned to let it go and walk, although with a slight limp, without it. It had hurt to realize but he had coped. Yet, here he was swarmed with old feelings as he looked into the eyes of his mother. It was a steel gaze he served her, not necessarily on purpose but it was certainly there.

Her foggy gray orbs were clear for the first time in Charlie's memory. There was no lost expression behind the shining pupils. Her face was soft and content, posture tall and steady. It was a strange thing, to see his mother sober. Like a rare creature you see maybe once or twice in a lifetime, only that rare creature was sobriety. Some part of Charlie resented it. Resented that it took him almost dying for her to get better. If he hadn't...if it all hadn't happened would she be lost to some street in a city he couldn't pronounce with people he couldn't bother to remember the names of? Or would she still be right here, staring at him like a wounded animal? Her shawl wrapped around her like a blanket as she hugged herself. It was fitting really, the way Raven almost hid behind Charlie as the two stood parallel. Like something out of a storybook, only this time Charlie wasn't sure how it ended.

"I'm certainly glad to see you home. Did you see the flowers? Your favorite color," Sharon began her words shaky and rather choked with sentiments she wasn't used to expressing. Her small hand gestured to the new vase that now held a fresh bouquet of violets. Some part of Charlie winced at the irony of it, reminding him of how he used to rationalize his bruises. Beautiful violet shades, evolving into dandelion shades of yellow before disappearing like the petals of a wishing flower. Charlie took a deep breath and reminded himself where he was and the distance between those times was growing each day.

"They're nice," Charlie managed and Sharon nodded slowly. She opened and closed her mouth several times. Charlie couldn't blame her, how do you approach this? There's no handbook or guide on how to have these kinds of conversations.

"How about we all have some tea?" Raven suggested cutting through the silence with her own timid awkwardness. No matter how old Raven got she always seemed to shrink under the gaze of her mother. When she was younger she usually masked it with angry remarks but more recently it came in the form of silence. Charlie looked to her and she sent him a nervous smile before turning and disappearing into the kitchen. Her footsteps held an urgency that made Charlie frown.

"I...just wait here," Charlie told his mother before briskly following after his sister.

He found her gripping the sink, knuckles white and head down. Her shoulders shook slightly as the water ran down the drain. With a tenderness he'd acquired over his years, Charlie turned off the sink and stood next to Raven for a moment.

"It's like she's a ghost..." Raven spoke softly as her tears mixed and slid down the drain. She sounded broken...she sounded so much younger. Charlie could almost see the swelling of her bumbling cheeks as she cried. Big red blotches on her cheeks, fire shades cascading down her back. When had she grown up?