Chương 3: Chapter 3
The glow of the television bounced around the dark motel room, as a nine month old baby propped himself against a leg of the table and watched with intense focus. The sound of channel 6 local news hummed throughout the room.
Janet Jones with wavy blond hair and green eyes, stared into the camera as she reported the story. "Wayne Technology, the subsidiary of Wayne Enterprises, revealed their new smartphone today. The CEO of Wayne Enterprises William Earle had this to say this."
The news station cuts to a clip of William Earle mid speech, standing behind a black podium in front of a backdrop of the Wayne Corps logo. "The iPhone was released for the sole purpose of putting an inexpensive phone in every hand of the unfortunate in Gotham City. Wayne Technology in conjunction with the Wayne Foundation is hoping that every person will have the ability to communicate with family and friends or call for help if they need it." Janet turned to her co-anchor and asked "Brad, how do you think this will affect Gotham City?"
Brad Davis wore a charcoal grey suit with slick backed hair and hazel eyes, he faced Janet and replied. "This can only be a good thing for Gotham and Wayne Enterprises. The Wayne Foundation will be handing out free iPhones with incredibly low monthly rates, hopefully, it will relieve some expenses for people living paycheck to paycheck. Plus, this new iPhone will help push Luther Corps new smartphone back to Metropolis and out of Gotham, I can't imagine that Lionel Luthor will like that. We can only wonder what Bruce Wayne thinks of this, as he hasn't been seen or heard of for the last few years?" Brad nodded to Janet, letting her know that he was finished as She turned to the cameras and signed off with, "thanks for watching Channel 6, 10 pm Local News."
The couch next to the table groaned and croaked, I could hear her breathing increase as she began to wake up. Fear, it crept up my body like a slow sludge covering my skin. My body started tensing, coiling into itself, as self-preservation began to override all my other instincts. "Ugh" I heard her say as she sat up on the couch, the television remote and a dirty syringe rolled down her body onto the floor. The silence seemed to fill the room as even the t.v became muted as the remote collided into the ground. The glow from the commercials cast her shadow onto the wall, I could see her shadow reach from the couch onto the table next to me as she searched for her salvation. She swept everything off the table that wasn't what she was looking for, trash, empty beer bottles, wrappers, and old unfinished coke cans rained down around me as I tried scooting under the table to hide. Hiding, it seemed so pointless, she always found me. I watched her shadow from under the table as her hand grabbed onto a small plastic bag and lifted it towards the glow of the t.v.
Empty, nights like this always started with her finding her empty bag of heroin, we both wished it was full. My hand curled into a fist as only three fingers complied, my middle finger hasn't moved since she broke it last month. That was the day I discovered that my mother had a temper and it revolved around not having heroin when she wanted it. The table shook and creaked as she slammed her fist into the table in frustration. The sudden noise caused my fear soaked body to twitch against the table, once again an eerie silence filled the room. I couldn't understand the silence, where was her rage that she built up until she found me. I looked around the room until I saw it, she wasn't the only one making shadows against the wall. I closed my eyes, I didn't need to see her face to know that she was grinning, she finally found her punching bag.
Her right hand gripped around my neck, dragging me out from under the table. "Look at me" she growled, lifting me from the ground bringing me to eye level. My eyes opened to her narrowed blue eyes and a sinister grin. Her lips twisted together as a thought crossed her mind, "If you weren't alive, if I didn't need to buy you food or diapers, I could have bought more smack," she whispered in the still room. She brought her left hand back behind her, waiting like a pulled string on a bow. Her pulled hand raced towards me like an arrow searching for the red bullseye, as her left open palm slammed into my face. My face snapped into my left shoulder, I could feel her right hand around my neck tighten so I wasn't dropped. I heard my cheekbone break before the pain was felt, the skin drooped off my cheekbone and sagged onto the corner of my lip. My eyes closed and sealed, trying to not let my tears fall towards my broken face. She would not break me today I promised myself, but what I meant was, would she break me tomorrow?
"Shh baby, mommies sorry. I'll never hurt you again I promise," she murmured cradling my listless body into her chest. We both knew that her promise would only last until she found another empty bag and wanted to shoot up. My empty stomach grumbled against her, as my body tries to find any nourishment to begin healing tonight's violence. Guilt from hearing my stomach began to replace her already cooling rage, "mommy is gonna take care of you, don't worry" she whispered to me. Humming she rocked my body against her chest to the tune, as she headed to a small mini-fridge and microwave in the far corner of the motel room.
She brought the baby bottle filled with warm milk up to my lips. I opened my mouth as the pain from my cheek flared, racing across my face. I held back my tears as I sucked the milk out of the bottle with sheer willpower. Every drop of milk that entered into my body was orgasmic as every drop was a victory to me, a victory that held a promise. A promise of survival, that I could live to fight another day, to endure whatever I had to. She laid me on the floor with a half-full bottle of milk next to me. "Mommas got to go make some money," she said, heading to the door, looking for her next score. I closed my eyes as the first tear of the night leaked down my cheek, knowing that the cycle of what I experienced tonight was starting again.
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