Alice had been giving me wonderful encouragement, but for now, things were okay.
Thanks to her mysterious pull, I was released from custody and allowed to return home.
We lived in the slums now—Alice didn't. Poverty had kicked us out of her league a while ago.
After dropping us off in her car, she drove off.
That night, I spent hours apologizing to Mom again and again, but she kept brushing it aside. She said she never believed the accusation.
Of course, I did grope my boss… with her permission, but still...
*
My name is Shephat Adanabe. I live in a creaky, fragile house out on the edge of the district. The place where dreams go to die.
Wait, shouldn't I have done this introduction at the beginning?
Whatever, I was basically the overseer of poverty.
Right now, in the burning afternoon heat, I was eating lunch with Mom.
We had rice.
By "rice," I mean 29 grains, swimming in salt-seasoned hot water.
I know, it's a luxury meal.
We were trying to stretch what we had… or we'd starve before the week was out.
The single bed we owned had been confidently stolen by yours truly, seven years ago.
A nearby house had burned down, and when the owners didn't return fast enough, I figured they weren't coming back.
Actually, they did return. But finders keepers.
The bed was small, damaged, with springs sticking out like hungry blades waiting to jab flesh.
Even the place we called a house wasn't truly ours.
It was an abandoned building we had conquered years ago. No rent, no bills—just the challenge of surviving everything else life threw at us.
"How are you feeling, Shephat?" Mom asked gently as we sat on crates across each other, eating our usual dinner—salted rice.
"As usual, I don't feel anything," I answered plainly. "The weakness comes and goes… but I still have some months left."
"I... see." She nodded, picking at the rice with her chopsticks.
So cute—her face, I mean. Not the food. Definitely not the food.
I'd been suffering from some unknown illness for years now, since I was seventeen.
Every doctor Alice referred us to came up short. They didn't know what it was.
Just that something inside me was slowly destroying me, nonstop.
Like slow burn infirmity.
They all said I wouldn't live past thirty. Yet here I am. Still walking. Still breathing. But barely.
I haven't told Mom everything, though. Like how I coughed blood the other day. Or how I collapsed.
I told her I saw a doctor who said I had seven more years. That was a bare-faced lie. I just didn't want her to cry again.
It's selfish, I know, but she's the only person I have left. Dad was abducted when I was little. We didn't have the money for ransom, so... he was gone. Just like that.
Welp. I've lost my job now, too. So I figured, whatever time I have left, I'll spend it here—enjoying every small second with Mom.
When night came, she put up the plastic leather patch she'd stitched together to cover the window. Because, well, there was no window. And the nights could get awfully cold.
I was oddly excited. Because tonight again, I'd get to cuddle up to my adorable mom till sleep pulled me under…
...Yeah. I'm that weirdo. The one who gets a little turned on lying beside his own mother.
But I've never confessed my feelings or acted on it. I still fear what little shred of humanity I have might vanish if I do.
And honestly? I'm fine like this. This is enough.
Mom moved to the bed and laid down, pulling the torn sheets over her.
"Shephat?" she asked, puzzled.
"Yes, Mother?"
"Is that… an erect—"
"It is not," I cut her off flatly. "It's your imagination."
"But I can feel some kind of hardne—"
"Ugh! It's just my knee. Bear with it till we get a new bed."
"We've never gotten a new bed. This one wasn't even new when you took it. And frankly, I'm starting to think…" she turned toward me, squinting, "…that you don't ever want to get another one."
"Huh?! Th-that's ridiculous! What would I possibly gain from—?"
Before I could finish, she pulled me into her chest and held me close.
"I know you, Shephat. You're my son. You've always been as easy to read as a children's book… I know you lied about your time."
My body stiffened.
How...? I thought I'd pulled it off. I was sure I'd fooled her.
"Don't worry," she whispered. "I'm not mad. I get why you'd do it. But don't lie to me again, okay? But never hide things from your mother again, you promise?"
I let out a slow sigh. "Okay. I promise. I'll tell you everything."
"Good." She exhaled softly, brushing a hand through my hair. "Now... was that not an erec—"
SNORE. SNORE. SNORE.
"Hey! Don't just fall asleep on me!" she said, shaking me gently. "You hopeless child…"
She giggled faintly, still rocking me in her arms, as I buried my face into her chest and finally let go of the weight in my lungs.
"I'll always be with you, my baby. Until your last breath, I'll always stand by you..."
I rolled my eyes inwardly. Idiot mom... Don't say such sad things...
*
The next morning, I woke up to the sight of the incomplete ceiling above me, cracked and punctured with holes.
Then I started hearing some soft, echoic voice. Then a gentle shaking.
I turned and realize it was Alice doing the shaking.
Huh? How did Alice get into my house? Kneeling next to my stolen bed, dressed so nicely?
Is she trying to spite me or something?
I turned my head weakly and saw Mom on my right, her face in tears as she tried to catch her breath.
And… What was this warmth...?
When I looked down, I saw... blood.
*
I ended up in a nearby hospital somehow.
Apparently, I had been bleeding from everywhere—my eyes, nose, ears, mouth... even my CENSORED and CENSORED.
I didn't feel pain, not really. Just... incredibly weak.
I could barely hear anything. It all sounded muffled, like I was underwater.
The one bright spot? The nurse checking on me was a hottie, with a cleavage that seemed to remind me there was a life I hadn't fully lived. So close, yet so far away.
I wondered, would I get arrested if I... squeezed her boob? I was in a hospital though.
Actually, let's not push it...