Chapter 45: Will You Run Away Now?

~“Hold on to me, if you love me.”~

Chapter Theme Song: “Unsteady” by X Ambassadors.

BLAZE

~^Flashback^~

“Mama, stop!”

I tried to shield myself from the blows, my small hands raised above my head. Each hit tore at my skin, blood seeping from the raw wounds.

“Put your hands down, Blaze Xander!” The woman who was supposed to be my mother didn’t stop her relentless assault on my eight-year-old frame.

She yanked my hands away, and I screamed, trying to crawl away from her. The rough ground scraped against my skin as I moved.

Suddenly, her icy hands gripped my arms, her sharp nails digging into my flesh. It felt like my bones were about to snap under her hold.

She forced me to sit up. I sobbed, covering my head with my hands and pressing my face into my knees. She hissed at my resistance and walked away, heading for a cabinet in the kitchen.

“So, you think you can steal, huh? You think you can act like the man of the house just because your father is away? I’ll show you!”

I didn’t know what she was looking for, but I was naive enough to hope that love could make everything better.

I got up, my legs shaking, and ran to her. I wrapped my bruised arms around her waist and pressed my head against her back.

“I’m sorry, Mama. I love you. I won’t steal food anymore. I was just hungry, please...please don’t hit me.”

She froze for a moment, and I thought maybe my apology had reached her. But she just pried my hands off her and grabbed a fork from the cabinet.

She turned on the stove and placed the fork on the burner.

I stepped back, my eyes wide with fear. She saw me about to run and grabbed my collar, pulling me towards her.

“Mama!”

“Don’t you dare call me that, you little monster! I’m not your mother! You’re just like your father. You’re going to grow up and hurt women just like he does!

“What did I ever do to him? Why did he have to cheat on me like I’m nothing!”

“Mama—!”

“If you call me that one more time, I swear I’ll kill you.” Her eyes were wide and bloodshot. “I’m not your fucking mother, you piece of shit!”

She grabbed the heated fork from the stove and moved it towards my face. I jerked my head away, feeling the heat as it passed by my nose.

I was shaking, staring at the hot fork as I clutched her wrist. “No, please...please,” I whimpered.

“Hold still! You’re going to use this pretty face of yours to break hearts when you’re older, just like your damn father! What makes that policewoman better than me? Huh?! Tell me!”

I was sobbing, trying to pull away from her, but I had no idea what she was talking about.

She lifted my shirt and, despite my struggles, pressed the hot fork into my side. The pain seared through me, and I screamed.

With the last of my strength, I pushed her hand away. The fork flew across the room, and I took the chance to run to the basement.

I shut the door behind me, panting heavily as I wrapped my arms around myself.

A sliver of light came through the gap under the door. I could see her feet approaching through the dust that danced in the beam.

I heard a soft sob, and then her voice. “I’m sorry... I’m so sorry, Blaze. Oh my God...please come out. I didn’t mean to.”

Tears streamed down my face, and I buried my sobs in my lap.

My mother was mentally ill. That’s the only way to describe it. She had psychosis, bipolar disorder, depression, and anxiety.

Sometimes she would change completely, taking out her anger at my father on me.

My dad was always cheating, but I can’t remember if it started before or after my mom got sick. Either way, his infidelity only made her condition worse.

Even when she wasn’t having an episode, she wasn’t a good parent. She was always using drugs, drinking, and she was distant and cold.

Sometimes she wouldn’t feed me, and I’d have to eat old food, which would give me a terrible stomachache. Then she’d ignore me, not caring that I was sick.

If it weren’t for my neighbor or my dad, I might not have survived.

My father knew she was hurting me. They fought about it all the time, but he never reported it. Despite his affairs and despite her issues, he still loved her. He used her mental illness as an excuse for her behavior.

He probably loved her more than he loved me. And he still does.

Sometimes she’d leave me with her friend, a woman who was twenty-eight at the time. She molested me when I was eight, under the guise of giving me a bath.

I told my mother, and she just yelled at me. “You’re a man, and you have a problem with a woman touching you? Get used to it! You’re going to grow up to cheat and abuse women just like your worthless father!”

Her abuse ranged from hitting me with glassware until I bled to beating me with anything she could get her hands on.

Sometimes she’d cry and apologize, and sometimes she wouldn’t.

She was a messed-up woman who used me as her punching bag whenever my father wasn’t around.

~^Present^~

HARMONY

By the time Blaze wraps up his harrowing story, my eyes are brimming with tears. I had no clue he had endured so much, and yet I was so quick to abandon him.

I was raised in a protected environment, so I can't even begin to comprehend how crushing it must have been for him. It shatters my heart.

I swipe at my eyes with the back of my hand. “So...what happened? Why did she take her own life?”

Blaze reclines on his hands, letting out a sigh. His eyes remain dry throughout the entire narrative, and I can't help but wonder how he can recount all of this without shedding a single tear.

“I got home one day,” he starts. “From school...”

~^Flashback^~

BLAZE

“Liz!” I stepped into my house, kicking off my worn-out shoes. They had been old for a while, but neither of my parents seemed to notice.

They were either too engrossed in work or too mentally unstable to realize.

I knew calling her “Mama” would earn me a severe beating, so I stuck with her first name to avoid setting off another violent episode.

The house was eerily quiet, as if no one was home. I looked around in confusion as I tossed my backpack onto the couch. A pot was left open on the stove, and the kitchen was a mess.

Liz had been fired from her job when they found out she was ill. She was a nurse at the local clinic, but they knew something was off when she started lashing out at patients and crying for no reason.

My dad started working extra hours since he was now the only one bringing in money. That left him with no time for me, and eventually, I had to learn how to cook and do a lot of things on my own.

I longed for my parents' love, but it was never there. I had no friends because whenever I met someone and they discovered my mother was a crack addict and not exactly stable, they started avoiding me.

I heard soft sobs coming from her room, and I slowly approached the door. It was slightly ajar, and I could see her sitting on her bed in a white cotton nightgown, even though it was only four in the afternoon.

I pushed the door open wider for a better view and saw that she was holding a metallic object to her head.

~A gun.~

“L-Liz?” My voice was barely above a whisper, but something was off with me because the sight didn’t scare or surprise me. I just stood there, staring at her.

She was crying as she wiped her nose, and her red, bloodshot eyes looked up and met mine.

She gave a weak, uneven smile that was almost creepy.

“Goodbye, Blaze.”

~BOOM!~

She pulled the trigger, and the loud sound made my body jerk, my ears ringing from the harsh noise. Her blood splattered onto my frozen face, and I closed my stinging eyes against the thick red liquid.

When I opened them again, I knew something was wrong with my emotions because seeing her lifeless body, open eyes, and blood-soaked sheets didn’t affect me.

I felt nothing.

I should have cried, but I didn’t.

I should have been shocked, but I wasn’t.

And the only thought in my mind was: ‘Good Riddance.’

It was odd because despite her treatment of me, I loved my mother. I was a sucker for her. When she cried, I cried. But now, her lifeless body couldn’t stir any feelings of sorrow or distress in me.

I took a step back and closed her bedroom door. I didn’t call anyone; I didn’t seem to care.

I went to the kitchen, made myself some cereal, sat in front of the TV, and watched cartoons until nightfall.

My father came home at dusk, and when he saw me sitting on the couch, he smiled as he hung his coat on the rack.

“You’re watching TV, huh? You’re usually holed up in your room.”

I didn’t bother to look at him. On other days, I would have run over to him and hugged him with a big grin on my face because his presence meant my mother wouldn’t hit me anymore.

The blue light from the TV illuminated the dried blood stains on my face.

He walked over to me, his expression turning to confusion as he studied me. “Blaze. Are you okay?” He squinted at the red substance on my skin. “Is that blood on your face?”

I shrugged but didn’t say anything. I just kept my eyes on the TV, following the animated characters on the screen.

He narrowed his eyes at me. “Where’s your mother?”

I pointed vaguely towards their room, and he looked at me suspiciously, my silent behavior unnerving him as he walked over to the door. “Liz?” He pushed it open.

And then his cries filled the room.

“Oh my God! Fuck! Liz... Blaze! Blaze, what happened? Blaze... Oh, God, Liz! Why did you do this, Liz?!”

His cries were so loud, and the only thing that bothered me was that his sobbing was drowning out the TV. So, without a care in the world, I reached for the remote and turned up the volume.

~^Present^~

HARMONY

“After a while, my dad realized something was wrong with me, so he took me to a psychiatrist.”

I look at him. “What did they say?”

He sighs and looks at me. I search his blue eyes, and I see a hint of hesitation. He’s afraid to tell me.

“I won’t judge you,” I reassure him. “I promise I won’t run away.”

His lips curl into a smile, and he leans in closer to me. I swallow hard at the closeness as he looks deeply into my eyes.

“But haven’t you forgotten, green eyes? I did say you can’t leave my side after I tell you that, didn’t I?”

I swallow again. Our faces being this close makes me blush uncontrollably, but I need to stay focused, now’s not the time for blushing.

“Exactly. I can’t leave even if I wanted to,” I confirm.

He pulls back, but his eyes remain locked on mine.

“Do you recall when I asked if you’d bolt if I turned out to be a sociopath?”

I nod, my eyes never leaving his. “Yeah...I remember.”

He takes a deep breath, his gaze steady. “Well...I am. I’ve got sociopathy, ASPD, and a touch of bipolar disorder.” His lips curl into a small, humorless smile. “Are you going to run away now?”