"The Child in the Ground" (Experimental Section 2 of 4: Famine's Reflection)

When I was little, I thought about killing my mother countless times.

I didn't know how I was going to do it but I knew the result very well. It was rather simple. I wanted us both dead. Now older, and perhaps a little wiser, reflecting upon my younger self, I was extremely innocent and kind. Death would have been too merciful. Because of her, I could trust no one, not even myself and it's both frustrating and lonely. Humans are capable of lying and they do. I hate them, deceiving vile creatures. It's a pity. If it wasn't for revenge, I would have tried to end it all, my life and my suffering.

Over time, I've learned how to live with myself, kept a peaceful mind so I could see past deception. It's my job after all, to strip things down to the bare truth. How did I come to be like this?

• • • • • • •

Mother said she'd come back for me soon... so I waited for her on the front steps of the cathedral. After two months, I had almost lost all hope but she finally came back.

Though, she did come back for me. Our eyes met. Icy cold... not what I had anticipated. She quickly returned her gaze to her new lover and smiled so sweetly, I felt sick to the stomach. I didn't have the strength to approach her. With clenched fists, all I could do was hold in the anger, and keep the tears at bay.

I saw her again riding in the car with the man and in my desperation, I followed them to the doorsteps. I called for her but she only looked at me with disgust. The servants beat me off like a stray rabid dog. I hated her so much. It hurts. I swore I would return the pain ten folds. She was no more a mother to me than a cold ing . There will be a time when all this ends or so I thought.

• • • • • • •

During the time I waited for her return, I spent my days wandering the streets alone begging and scraping through garbage. Eyes dry. Tongue swollen. Always thirsty. Always hungry. There were other kids like me with no family... orphans on the streets but I was beneath them. They chased me off when I followed. I thought at least I wouldn't have to be alone. But I was wrong. The church refused to take me in so I spent my nights in the alley out back. It was empty with no one else... for good reasons. Rats. Everywhere. I slept with them. On good days, they would be kind and keep me warm. On bad days, they would feast on me, biting and scratching till the cobble stones ran red. I endured it all. Why? Simply because I had to wait for her. She said she would come back. I didn't want to miss her because I was some place else. I kept telling myself 'just one more night' because she would certainly be here the next morning and rescue me. That was how I kept going. Just bear it for another night but another day went by... then another... then another... I stayed with my moody rat friends because they were the only ones who would take me in.

Till this day, I still fear them when they haunt my dreams... to remind me that I was alone... that mother saw fit to leave me. It brought back the pain, the sadness, and the anger.

After I saw my mother becoming a wealthy woman, I decided to never look for her again. It must have been my fault. I wasn't a good enough boy. So, I should just let it be. I crawled back to the alley as punishment. Dry eyes. Swollen tongue. Always thirsty. Always hungry. Perhaps if I was punished, she would return to me. Pest. Pest. A ing disease.

How pathetic, was I—