𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔹𝕠𝕕𝕪

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--𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔹𝕠𝕕𝕪--

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"These people 'round here...

Were beaten down, eyes sunk in smoke-dried face...

They're so resigned to what their fate is..."

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It had been a month since that loser packed up and left. A month since his family collapsed. A month since his mom basically went braindead.

"Hey, Ma," The 11 year old boy said, "I brought you some breakfast before school. If you're hungry."

No answer.

Jeremiah had already walked Dustin to the bus stop, and packed his own lunch. At this point he was just waiting for Walter Hagan to pull up in his new car to drive him and Tommy to school.

He stood up, clearing the plate of old toast and warm orange juice that he'd left her the day before. He dared to look at his mother, her eyes dead to the world and her left thumb twitching on an odd beat. That was the only way he could tell she was alive. The random twitch of her thumb that had started the second she sat down on the couch after receiving that dreaded phone call. The phone call that had informed the family of their father leaving. More specifically, that he didn't plan to come back.

"Ma?" Jeremiah said with a shaky voice, "Ma? Can you give me some sort of sign? Some way to tell me you're still there?"

He was shaking rigidly, waiting on his heels for an answer. There was none, obviously.

"If you can hear me just blink or something... please?"

The boy studied her face in an attempt to see some twitch of a muscle or movement of her features.

Beep Beep!

The sound scared him, pulling him from his trance. He knew the sound well.

It was Walter Hagan's car.

He grabbed his bag from the floor and slung it over his shoulder quickly. He walked out the door loudly in one last attempt to wake his mother from her trance.

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When he got home, Dustin was sitting beside their mother, speaking animatedly. For a moment Jeremiah's eyes widened in hope.

Then he realized she wasn't answering.

"Remmy!" Dustin exclaimed happily, his 6 year old brain not understanding everything happening in their family.

"Hey, Little Man..." Jeremiah said, suddenly tired.

Dustin gave him a toothless smile, before a look of excitement entered his face, "Remmy! I have to show you the drawing I did today!"

"Okay, Dusty," Jeremiah responded.

Dustin stomped over to his bag, shuffling his hand through it for a moment before pulling out a drawing. Well, half of one. Dustin had pulled it from the bag too fast and ripped it cleanly in half.

Immediately, when he noticed his eyes welled up with tears, "Oh no!" He screamed out, his face growing redder every second. After a moment hot tears began streaming from his eyes, splashing on the papers a few times before Jeremiah was able to pull the pieces from his small hands.

Head Over Heels --- N. WheelerDove le storie prendono vita. Scoprilo ora