Dalaric

Twenty: "𝘿𝙚𝙚𝙥 𝙗𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝𝙨, 𝙍𝙞𝙘𝙠𝙮."

Landon laughs before agreeing. A wrinkled hand sits on top of my clenched fist that's strangling the steak knife.

Emily smiles at me and I sigh. Just one fucking dinner and I can get back to my small ass apartment with whatever money Emily can send over.

One damn dinner.

"I'm proud of Ricky too. Did y'all know he's training with the cops next month? He might even make it into the FBI and he's just ninet-"

"We fucking get it, Mom. You love the bastard more than us. How about you just fucking go with him to which ever bridge he lives unde-"

His chair falls backward as I get up and grab him by the collar, my other hand tightening around his tie, wishing I could pull it and end this right here and right now.

"Show some damn respect, fucker."

I tighten my hold even more, disgusted at the way he treats his own mother.

"Leave my house right now, young man. You will not touch my son under my own damn roof!" Carl's voice booms, his southern accent apparent along with his smoker's cough.

I throw Landon backwards, putting the chair back in its place only because Emily likes them. Landon hits the wall and groans. As he fucking should.

"Shut up, old man. This ain't your damn house, anyways, bitch."

I walk out the house, slamming the door before leaning against the brickwall.

Way to fuck it up, Ricky.

Red spots appear on the white bandage I wrapped around my hands only an hour ago. I unwrap them, clenching my jaw at all the deep scars. I can't even bear to look at them. If only I hadn't-

My thoughts are cut off when the door opens. Emily rushes out and hits my shoulder with her weak hands that are scar-free. How the fuck do you even get rid of scars? Ugly as hell.

"You stupid, stupid boy! Look what you did to yourself.." She grumbles under her breath and she pushes me to sit on the porch before she takes out the first aid kit.

She continues grumbling as she finishes wrapping it before punching my side, eliciting a groan out of me.

Where she get all that power from.

"Stupid boy. One thanksgiving! That's all I asked for and-"

"I'm sorry." It hurts. It does. It hurts knowing that all I fucking do is ruin her perfect life. I don't think I deserve a mother. Or anyone remotely good.

Emily sighs before grabbing both my hands in hers. This is the closest thing to a mother I have and I'm already fucking it up.

"Ricky, will you try harder next time?"

"He fucking disrespected you. I'm not going to sit-"

"I would rather be disrespected than let you hurt yourself. And others." She mumbles the last part.

Emily puts a plastic bag on my lap before kissing my forehead.

My throat constricts when she hugs me.

Like a mother hugs her son.

"You're my son, Ricky. I took you in because I want to be there for you. You have someone, Ricky. I know I'm not even close to the mom you w-"

I feel a wetness on my shoulder as she sniffles and my heart feels like- I don't even fucking know.

As she softly cries, for me, on my shoulder, I do the one thing I've always dreamt of doing. Maybe I didn't dream of doing so on a suburban porch that's surrounded by white picket fences and even whiter people, but it's something every kid needs. Especially from someone who cares just enough.