01: 01// A pitiful child

~Backstory~

Similar to how a bomb sets off, his brain is filled with darkness that seems to warp its way up to his nervous system, which tells him it's time to WAKE UP. Wrapped in like a burrito with his brown fleece blanket, the puny kid who's called Axel slowly unravels his small, petite body from the cozy goodness, as he squints at his father. The light is excruciatingly shocking, as he pauses for a second to let out a moan.

" Get up," Raymond says, in a stern, but angry manner. To the little nine-year-old boy, this meant he has dug a deep hole, meaning he's aggravated his father for much longer than he has the patience to handle. With his slicked-back grey, pepper-salt-colored hair Raymond looked more like he was advertising for a Dove shampoo commercial rather than hosting a speech for the mafia members.

Finally, he wakes up.

The moment he wakes up, Raymond walks out of the bedroom door, and he is alone at last, freeing the child from his misery. A pitiful child is he, with his dark, shaggy hair up to his shoulders, his dark azure eyes wide with innocence. He's quite a plain child, one of those kids you see who is always sitting at the front in picture days. On top of that, he's significantly smaller than all of the girls in his third-grade class, while bearing the body of a meek, frail, and insignificant little boy.

If there was one thing he did best, it was defying others' expectations that they induce upon him. As a child, he's been known as a weakling, but described as a loner. Even though Axel was not involved with his father's mafia, he endured devil-like glares at school that told him he was, even causing himself to fall prey to the terrible kids he calls the hawks of his elementary school. He calls them the 'hawks' because these boys and girls that treat him like shit would stare at him like he's a piece of meat for the taking. Glowering above, from the metaphorical sky, they'd spat ruthless remarks about him being socially inept and unwilling to fight for himself.

He understands, however, that they are just children, and it all shall pass soon.

A mature child he is.

At least, emotionally mature, for the most part.

" Can I sit here?" He asked his fellow third-grade classmates during lunch break. The rows of trashed long tables lay in rows of four by ten, being the cafeteria to be a small one. Because of the lack of funds for the elementary school, the sickly ash paint remains chipped and faded, mold growing through the cracks, due to water damage. The whole place reeks of a mixture between grilled cheese sandwiches and salty sweat, from the bodies of all of the children, all gathered in a small area.

The moment that he asks, the trio of boys sitting at the table scurry two tables away from where they were sitting, clearly frightened of him. And really, why would they be?

He sighed.

He does quite a lot of sighing if you ask him. He wipes off the crumbs on the table with a wet paper towel; and double-checks that the trio didn't leave anything behind. He wasn't a bully, after all, he was a nice kid.

A sweet kid, actually.

A kid that was ignored at lunch kind of kid. A kid who- no matter how many times he asked to join- was never invited during games of freeze tag and even regular tag. All the boys in his class despised him, all the little girls ran away from fear.

Fear of what?

In fact, it wasn't his fault that he was quiet. His father always told him that the best of all men remained silent.

Or maybe that was because he was like that?

" Hey, kid, can you hand me that? Oh uhh-"

" Yes, sir? Do you-"

The janitor cuts him off saying, " Uhh, nevermind!"

Even the school janitor was afraid of him.

Too afraid to even ask him to get out of his spot on the school cafeteria chair so he could mop the marbled floors squeaky-clean.

****

It's been nearly five years since Raymond and him moved to Illinois. Sure, it's been quite a long time, but it seemed almost an eternity has passed.

Well, at least, at his new school, he'd meet new people.

No more bullies.

No more hawks.

He starts to recall that in his old neighborhood in Pennsylvania, before the move, his only good friend was an old lady from the children's choir, Mrs.Gillbert. She was a stout and plump old woman, her wrinkles etched under her eyes, on the creases of her cheeks, and pursed lips. Always wearing the same blue cotton dress, with the white polka dots on them, randomly placed throughout. Axel remembers her to be a kind, but stern old woman; a very grandmotherly type figure.

" No, it is an F flat, not a B sharp."

" No!No!No! You have it all wrong, it is a slur: the notes have to flow simultaneously together, not staccato!"

" Good work. That's enough for today! Let's sit down and have a nice chat."

He remembers her words as clearly as a grandson recalls his grandmother's taste of homemade blondies.

Which she usually offered to him on a weekly basis: only after he has memorized a piano piece on her grand, glass piano. And, when he did memorize such melodies on such an instrument, he felt more at peace. More at peace than he has ever felt in a long time.

No amounts of yelling and beating from his drunken mafia lord father could ever prevent him from playing such a beautiful instrument.

Now, as he stares out the windows of his father's black limousine, he feels a pang of regret. Regret that he didn't press his father further about staying back in Pennsylvania with his mother.

When Raymond filed a divorce for his mother, his mother was sent to a mental health hospital.

According to Raymond, he could no longer handle his wife's mentally ill antics; or rather, he just made up this excuse so he no longer would be labeled a sexual predator to the questioning authorities.

Authorities don't lie, that's for sure. Once a predator, always a predator. But, unfortunately for his mother, she was still sent to the hospital.

One Saturday night, a neighbor of his, Tilla Martinez, reported to the police that his mother was attempting to drown herself in the neighborhood park a few minutes past 12 o'clock. All he could think to himself was: what a nosy neighbor.

And so, his mother was sent to the hospital, by (yes, again) the authorities themselves. The same authorities who charged his father for sexual violence/predatory behavior and allowed him out of jail a year later. What he didn't understand was why the authorities would hold his mother hostage and not Raymond?

Didn't the authorities know that Raymond was abusing his mother and still hasn't asked for forgiveness?

That instead, he has been let out the hook and can just abuse his mother anytime she comes back from the hospital?

But that's just how life is. It's cruel.

It started to pour massively. The wind howled and the rain droplets found their way dripping down the windows of the limo: chasing one another, multiplying one another. He was almost there.

Ahead of him, he could see the school through his windows.

" Father, is that the school?" He asks Raymond, surprised. Wow, he sure didn't expect it to be that huge school in front of them.

" Yes, that is Salisbury Rodge Academy. You'll be enrolling here," His father barely looks up at him through the limo's side-view mirror, as he says his as if it is a demand, rather than a privilege.

As Axel continued to gaze at the large stone structure of the academy, he noticed that it looked similar to that of the ruins of a castle. But when he started to realize that the washed grey of the walls appeared rather bleak, mold at its edges, the red, brick turrets covered in layers of moss, he started to feel quite afraid. This is his first time at a boarding house school, and though he'd gladly oblige due to the fact that he doesn't have to see Raymond often... He was still petrified.

What if he got lost in the elevator?

What if he'd get bullied again, this time, by his roommates?

When he arrived at the entrance ceremony, held in the auditorium, he was welcomed with bright, cheery smiles from every student that greeted him, all of his teachers and professors seemed friendly as well.

*****

" So, you're new, right?" A girl in a short wavy bob approached him, as she flashed a set of yellow bucked-teeth towards him. She seemed of average height, being about three inches taller than him, and her rail-thin figure tilted itself to the side as if trying to make him smile.

He didn't smile. He'd do anything BUT smile.

"Yeah. I'm new." He tried to look away from her don't-make-eye-contact don't make eye contact he started to pinch himself, to stay awake. He was trying to believe that this was a reality, and this wasn't a dream. But... Was this for real?

Did someone actually have the courage to speak to him?

He was reluctant at first, shut off.

But even though at the beginning, the conversation seemed to be making a dull entrance, he had no choice but to continue on.