The Secret Life...

14

By the time I was 14, my mom was back in contact. Her first visit included her crying a lot, trying to explain away her behaviour and why I was still in care all these years later. I didn't really listen to her excuses. I was disgusted with them. Still, a tiny part of me wanted to get to know her, and wanted her to be a part of my life. I was a 14-year-old kid, confused about the world and my life and needing an explanation somehow. I needed to know why I ended up in care, why no-one seemed to care about me, and why I wasn't worth fighting for. Rather than soothe my insecurities, my mom spoke about herself a lot, telling me how hard it was without me, that she had no support from anyone in the family. She made ME feel guilty for not being around. I didn't notice the same alcohol aroma from her on this visit, though I know now in hindsight, she was taking something. Her eyes were spacey and she was sweating profusely.

"Ty," she'd said, taking my hand from across the table and wrapping her own around it. For a second, it felt good to have her skin on mine, to feel comforted and loved by my mom.

"There's something I need to tell you." 

I pulled my hand away very quickly and put it back under the table. I didn't want to be held for this kind of news.

"I never told you properly about your dad."

I didn't look up from the table. I didn't need to. I presumed she was going to tell me what I already knew. He was in prison for life.

"He's on death row."

This time I looked up. I caught my mom's eye and we stared at each other for all of 5 seconds before I looked away.

"What did he do?" I asked calmly, surprising myself with my own tone.

"He's in for murder...but he..."

"He didn't do it," I mocked, my voice shrill and feminine. I was tired of my mom's excuses. It felt like she'd come with a list.

"Ty, you don't understand, he-"

"I don't wanna understand!" I yelled, standing up from the table very quickly. I'd had a growth spurt this particular year and I was tall for my age. I stood over my mother menacingly, looking at her with rage.

"You're so full of shit!" I yelled. "Just do me a favour and stay at home next time. You don't care about me!"

"I do care-" my mom started, but I cut her off with a loud tut, a less than impressed expression moulding my face.

"FUCK. YOU!" I yelled, separating the words for effect. I physically saw my mom cringe. She hadn't known me properly for a long time. She had probably never heard me swear, and yet, I didn't care. I really didn't give a fuck. For once, I wanted to shock her. I wanted to make her feel uncomfortable.

At that, I stood up and left the meeting room. I stomped around the care home, slamming doors along the way as loud as I could. I stormed past people and scowled, and when I made it to my room, which I had to share with other kids, I roared at them to 'get the fuck out' of my room. They must have seen something different in me, because usually they'd argue, but this time, they scarpered. My closed bedroom door was punched, and I paced up and down the room with purpose. My mind was on fire. That was literally how it felt. I'd never felt rage like it, but it was infectious. It was spreading throughout my body, creating an inferno.

I didn't care what was happening downstairs. I didn't know if my mom was crying, who was talking to her, or what they thought of me. I knew then that I was the only one who could look out for me. No, wait. That wasn't strictly true. Cooper and Jared were always there when I needed to chill. Before I'd really thought it through, I'd thrown on a pair of sneakers and a jacket, and stuffed a bag of rolled blunts in my pocket.

The home wouldn't let the two of them have a room together, but they were directly across the hall. I threw myself out of my room and banged on both their doors with purpose, my knuckles still sore from the earlier punch. I winced, but I knew if I got wasted, the pain would dissipate. Jared opened the door first, and I ordered him to get his shoes on and come with me. It was weird for me to be making the orders, but he listened. He must have seen something in me too. Cooper's roommate answered the door and I barked at him to get Cooper. Cooper himself was ready to fly abuse at me, until he saw my face. Strangely, he too did as he was told.

Cooper asked me what I needed as we walked down the hallway.

"I need you to get me fucked up."

The pair looked at each other and nodded.