It was cold outside, with the sun already gone and the moon taking it's place. Luckily for Baekhyun, the moonlight was exceptionally bright this evening, so he managed to get home in just the nick of time. His shoes had ended up falling apart, the stiches gradually loosening as he walked down the rubble path, so he was now walking bare-foot, the mud and stones picking at his soles. He held his breath as he approached his little home, the only light that was on was coming from the kitchen, meaning this his mother was either drinking, or ready to give him a beating. Sometimes it was even both. 

Baekhyun struggled with only one parent, and it didn't help that his mother had a mental disability she just couldn't control. He was the sole provider of the family, occasionally working with the sewage men on the weekend to pay for the weeks suppy of soup and bread. That was all he and his mum ever ate, soup and bread, and everything had gradually lost it's taste to him. There was more then before though, since he lost his little sister a few months ago, but it still wasn't enough for his growth.

He nudged his front door open with his foot, the lock hadn't been working for a few months now, and there was no spare money in the budget to fix it. But who would want to rob us anyways? We have nothing! Throwing his shoes and bag next to the doormat, he made his way into the kitchen, slowly walking incase his mother wasn't in a good state. She wasn't.

"Mother, I-I'm home." He greeted, his voice a little shaky but only noticable to the sober. His mother turned around to him, scraping her dining chair across the tiled floor. Her brown eyes were droopy, madly darting around the kitchen and avoiding Baekhyuns face. "H-HOW DARE YOU.. YOU COME HOME LATE BAEKY?" She slurred, her finger pointed towards him although her eyes were cast to his left, "DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG I'VE BEEN WAITING?" 

"Ah, I'm sorry Mother. I was round a friends being tended to, I-I'm sorry for not telling you before hand." Her body moved quickly towards him, although it swayed from left to right in it's path. "I WANT YOU TO TELL ME... TELL ME.... S-SORRY" Her words would've been incoherant to any normal set of ears, but Baekhyun was used to her slurred vocabulary since she only ever talked to him when the liquid was processed into her system. "I'm sorry Mother."

She screamed, her hands raised and clutching the hair on her head in frustration, "SAY IT LIKE YOU MEAN IT." She took a step further - he took a step back. "I'm sorry, Mother." She laughed dryly, picking her feet up slowly and walking over to her son. 

"I know you don't mean that, w-why would you be sorry to your poor, poor mother? I suffer everyday for you. I take these... these tablets, so I can stay here with you, f-for you, and what do you do? You don't come home. You go to school instead of staying home and helping me. What... What did I ever do to deserve a son like you?" Baekhyun but the side of his cheek. Even though the alcohol was speaking for his mother, her words still cut right through his heart. 

Without another second passing, his face was hit with the back of her hand. He fell back slightly, raising a hand to his cheek his cheek that was buring as the pain arose. "Don't you leave my sight ever again!" She muttered, tears falling out her eyes but not out of sadness, but out of pain. 

She hit him again, but this time she never stopped. She hit him until he broke down his barrier and let his own tears fall from his eyes, cascading down his cheeks and onto the tiled floor he was crumpled upon. She hit him until he could not move up off the floor. "Now," She began, her voice hoarse from the crying she did between her violent actions, "You stay in this kitchen, and you rot with the garbage which is wear you belong. You're scum to me boy, scum." 

And with a simple nod of his head, he watched his mother leave him, walking past her child and down the hallway to her room. After the slamming of her door which concluded that she was done for the night, Baekhyun slowly fell down, his limp body hitting the cold tiles beneath him. He clung to himself, in the hope that his own comfort would be enough to pull him through to the morning. 

He didn't really have a choice anyways.