Medicine

Chapter Three

Am I the only one I know, waging my wars behind my face and above my throat? Shadows will scream that I'm alone. 

--Migraine, Twenty One Pilots

. . .

"Happy birthday!"

My mom greeted me as soon as I entered the kitchen. That morning, I woke up to the wonderful smell of food. I remember how my stomach rumbled in response to the delectable smell that wafted through my olfactory senses.

It was my sixteenth birthday; the day that changed my life.

It started off just like my past birthdays—my mom greeted me, kissed me on the cheek, told me she loved me and then we ate the breakfast she prepared—the usual.

I can't recall when it started, but on my birthday, my mother always wakes up bright and early to prepare the most delicious breakfast she can come up with.

And on that day, she didn't disappoint.

There were a selection of sweet croissants dusted with powdered sugar, waffles drizzled with syrup and topped with fruits and whipped cream. Several varieties of sausages and a plate of bacon gave off a smell that made my mouth water. Aside from those, various cut up fruits were also served along with a pitcher of cold, four seasons juice.

I'm quite amazed how I can still remember all these details, since it has already been three years since that day.

Every year on my birthday, my mom and I would eat the breakfast she prepared, I would go out with my friends to celebrate and then we all come back to the house and have dinner together where they sing me a happy birthday song, (sang horribly off-key may I add) while I wear a party hat that says "birthday boy."

Let's just say that it's the most embarrassing part of the day.

"You're already sixteen." My mom said as we were having our breakfast. She looked at me lovingly before she shook her head and muttered, "I'm getting old."

"You don't look old mom." I told her, rolling my eyes playfully. She just chuckled and continued eating. I don't get why someone could just leave her since my mother was such a caring person.

I never knew my father. He's the wham-bam, thank you ma'am kind of guy. I am a product of a one night stand but my mother never made me feel unwanted. She raised me on her own, and it sure wasn't easy.

She had to work and take care of me at the same time. She had to put up with unruly teenage boys wrecking havoc on her home. My friends and I were such hooligans but my mother never complained. She was that awesome.

As we were cleaning up after our meal, the door bell rang twice; indicating the arrival of my friends. I padded over to the front door and let the idiots in. Chase, Sean, Jason, Kurt and Mike bustled in, saying "Happy birthday, dude" with mischievous grins on their faces.

"Have you had breakfast, boys?" My mom asked after they've greeted each other.

"We already have, Kate." Chase answered her. My mom vehemently refused to be called "ma'am" since it made her feel old and "Miss Lyons" was just too formal.

I helped my mom clean up and then my friends and I were on our way to the nearest paint war place. It had this fenced property with numerous sacks of sand piled on top of one another to form some sort of military barricades.

There were numerous trees and large bushes you could hide behind, there were man-made mud puddles and on opposite sides of the area were two flag poles. Whoever got to retrieve the opponent's flag wins.