Chapter 28 - The Box

699 44 28
                                    

Error's POV

My mother leaned against the door frame, giving me a slight glare.

Mom: What are you doing here?

Me: Don't get your thongs tied up. I'm not going to be here for long. I just need to get my birth certificate along with some other paperwork.

One of her eye brows lifted.

Mom: What makes you think I would willingly give that up?

I chuckled with a hateful undertone.

Me: I thought you hated my very existence. Why would you want to keep it?

She sighed as she knew that I was right. Stepping away from the door frame, she allowed me to enter the house that I once lived in.

I stood in the living room while she disappeared within the hallway. This gave me the opportunity to look around. The room had remained the same but there were a few more stains on the couch and recliner chairs. I couldn't help but slightly recoil in disgust.

My mother eventually returned, carrying a shoebox. After placing the box on the kitchen counter, she crossed her arms over her breasts and waited me for to open it.

I lifted the lid to see a few papers piled up inside. The one on top was my birth certificate.

Me: I'm surprised that you haven't burned them.

She hummed, not giving me an exact response to what I had said.

The uncomfortable atmosphere was broken when I heard my phone begin to ring. My hand slipped it out of my pocket and I saw Ink was calling me. I answered it, soon hearing his voice from the other end.

Me: Hey Inky. What's up?

Ink: I'm just calling to tell you that we arrived in Hawai'i.

Me: That's great. Hey I'm going to have to let you go. I'm kinda in the middle of something important.

Ink: Oh okay. Call you later.

He hung up, leaving me to deal with my mother once more.

I heard her voice from behind me as I began looking through the papers again.

Mom: He sounded young. Your son?

Me: Nope. He's a teenager living with me.

There was a scoff that came from her lips.

Mom: Don't tell me. You're a pedophile?

Me: I wonder who I got that from?

Mom: Do not bring him into this conversation.

My calm behavior cracked, revealing my true anger for her.

Me: Not my fucking fault that you let him stick his dick in you!

My mother became equally angry.

Mom: He raped me and I regret not aborting you.

Me: And I never asked to be born. All I did was come out of your pussy and the only form of love that I got was to be forced to sleep in the tiniest room. I didn't even have a proper bed.

Mom: You were fine in there.

Me: Oh really? Do you know how many nights I got sick because I was cold? Of course you don't because you didn't give a shit about me.

I stepped closer but I managed to calm my voice down. I didn't need the rest of the neighborhood hearing our argument.

Me: Do you know how many times I got into fights at school and got in trouble? No you don't because you didn't give a shit. They almost gave me suspension but I pleaded to stay there because I didn't want to come back here. You treated me like I wasn't human or monster, like I was just some disease that was incurable.

Mom: You were. I would have had my life back if you didn't exist.

Me: Well guess what, I'm leaving so you don't have to deal with me anymore. Knowing that you're still alive makes me pissed.

I said while grabbing the box and heading towards the front door. The woman didn't say anything else as I slammed the front door behind me. I knew that this day would piss me off to no end.

After throwing the box in the back seat of my car, I slid into the driver's seat and wasted no time turning it on before pulling out onto the road.

The rest of the drive home was a blur for me. I was too angry to remember anything at the given moment.

I entered my house, immediately releasing an exhausted sigh of relief. I looked around, muscle memory making me believe that Ink was home. I became sad when I finally realized that he was in a different place entirely.

The home was eerily silent which set me off guard. I had somewhat forgotten what my life was like before Ink was sent to live with me. It was so... quiet.

I took a deep breath, gathering my thoughts. I needed a glass of wine desperately.

Me: ...Fuck it...



















I'm getting drunk

Love Doesn't Age (ErrInk)Where stories live. Discover now