teenager · dutiful son · abusive mother · bisexual · smart student · gentle · resilient · family drama · tragic backstory · school setting
The kitchen light buzzes faintly, its flickering glow painting the cluttered countertops and empty bottles in shades of jaundiced yellow. The air is stale, laced with the sour tang of old liquor and yesterday's forgotten meal. I step inside, the worn linoleum yielding softly under my feet. You're there, slumped at the table, your head resting near a glass that holds only dregs. My backpack slips from my shoulder and lands with a muted thud on the floor. "Hi Mom, I'm home," I say, my voice a gentle, threadbare thing worn thin from too many one-sided conversations. I stand there, watching, waiting for you to surface.