Chapter 2: Salt and Vinegar

 Part 1

The morning sun peeked through the thin curtains, casting a soft, golden glow across our small house, highlighting the worn but cherished furniture. In the kitchen, I busied myself making breakfast. The rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the savory scent of sizzling bacon and eggs, creating a comforting symphony of smells that filled the air, wrapping the kitchen in a warm, inviting embrace. The rhythmic clatter of utensils and the gentle hum of the coffee maker filled the kitchen, a comforting backdrop to the morning's quiet.

As I set the table, I couldn't help but glance down the hallway towards Mom's room. The door was slightly ajar, a sliver of light spilling into the dim corridor, casting long shadows on the walls. My heart pounded with each step toward her room, the weight of worry making my feet feel like lead. Would she decide to come out to eat today?

"Good morning, Mom," I whispered softly, stepping into her dimly lit room.

She lay in bed, her eyes closed, her breathing slow and steady. I leaned closer, hoping for any sign of response. There it was, a faint moan, a small reassurance that she was somewhat aware of my presence. Seeing her frail hand wave, my heart ached, a mix of love and helplessness tightening in my chest.

"I made you some breakfast," I continued, hoping she heard me. "You are welcome to join us at the table but I'll leave some on the bedside table just in case whenever you feel like getting up." My voice was steady, but inside, I felt a pang of sadness.

She made another noise, a soft murmur, as if acknowledging my presence. It was a small victory, a glimmer of connection. The faint scent of coffee lingered in the air, mingling with the subtle aroma of fresh flowers from the vase on the table.

Just as I placed the dishware on the dining room table, a car horn could be heard from outside. Dad was back from picking up Charlotte. I rushed to the front door, my heart lifting with anticipation as the sound of the car pulling into the driveway grew louder, signaling Dad and Charlotte's return.

"Ellis, good to see you're up and about!" Dad called out as he stepped out of the car, Charlotte following close behind. His voice was warm, but the weariness in his eyes and the deep lines on his face betrayed his exhaustion.

"Hey, Dad. Charlotte," I greeted them with a smile, though there was a flicker of uncertainty in my voice.

The familiar pattern felt like a lifeline, grounding me in the present. Despite everything, this small semblance of normalcy was a comfort. Charlotte nudged me playfully, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she teased me about breakfast.

"Did you burn the toast again, or do you need me to teach you how to use the toaster again?" Her playful tone was a lighthouse in the storm, easing the tension in my shoulders and bringing a genuine smile to my face.

"Of course, I made it extra burnt just as you like it" I chuckled, though the laughter felt hollow.

The morning routine continued, a fragile semblance of normalcy. The three of us gathered around the dining room table, the silence was punctuated by the soft clinking of cutlery against plates, a comforting rhythm that filled the room.

The morning sunlight streamed in, casting a warm, golden glow over the room, highlighting the worn but cherished furniture and the small, personal touches that made our house a home. Yet, the lingering shadows seemed to echo the unspoken worries that hung in the air. Dad recounted his early morning drive to pick up Charlotte, his voice a comforting hum in the background, though his eyes betrayed a deep-seated exhaustion.

"Did you know that Wisteria is planning to join the talent show? She's been practicing one of Misty Tears' latest songs every day. She's really excited about it," Charlotte said, her tone filled with pride, though her smile didn't quite reach her eyes.

Her attempt at cheerfulness felt like a fragile mask ready to break at any moment. I nodded, feeling a surge of warmth and pride, though the lingering shadows in our home cast a pall over the morning. The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft, golden glow on the worn furniture. Our family had been through a lot, and moments like these reminded me of the strength we found in each other, even when things felt off-kilter. The thought of Wisteria singing filled me with hope.

"By the way, Ellis," Charlotte said, turning her attention to me. "Did you finish that French book I lent you? The one about the Doctor and his enchanted forest?"

"Not yet, but I'm getting there," I replied, grinning sheepishly. "It's really interesting so far." The warmth of the coffee mug in my hands was a comforting contrast to the cool morning air. Her light-hearted question was a welcome distraction. For a moment, it felt like we were just a normal family, without the weight of our worries.

"Good. Just make sure you return it when you're done. I've got a whole stack of new books waiting for you," she teased, her eyes twinkling with mischief, though there was a hint of something deeper in her gaze. Charlotte's smile was bright, but her eyes held a shadow of worry.

After breakfast, we cleared the table and got ready as I grabbed my school bag and checked my phone. The routine tasks grounded me. The familiar weight of my school bag on my shoulder and the rhythmic creak of my shoes on the wooden floor provided small comforts amidst the swirling uncertainty. Making our way to the door, I glanced back one last time at Mom's room.

"Take care, Mom. I'll see you later." Worry tugged at my heart, tightening into a knot in my chest.. I forced a smile, hoping she could feel my presence even if she didn't respond. I lingered for a moment, my hand resting on the doorframe, before turning away.

"We should head out now. Don't want to be late." Dad gave me a reassuring pat on the back, his hand lingering for a moment, as if trying to transfer some of his strength and resolve to me. “She'll come out of the room whenever she feels like it, Ellis. Just focus on having a good day at school,” he said, though his voice carried a note of doubt.

The uncertainty in his voice mirrored my own fears as we stepped outside. Looking at the autumn leaves on the ground, its cool morning air refreshing against my skin. The car engine rumbled to life, the familiar sound a comforting start to the day. As we drove off, the cool morning air brushed against my face, a refreshing reminder of the world outside.

Part 2

The drive to school was filled with the usual chatter but Charlotte left earlier than expected. Staring at the car window, she spotted her friend biking to school and hopping out of the car with a quick wave. That left just Dad and me, sitting in an awkward silence that seemed to stretch on forever. The crisp morning air filled the school grounds, mingling with the lively chatter of arriving students and the gentle rustle of leaves underfoot. My thoughts wandered, trying to avoid the topic that lingered in the air.

"Well, here we are," Dad said, pulling up to the drop-off zone. "Hey Ellis, before you go, about your Mom..."

"Thanks, Dad," I mumbled, grabbing my bag and stepping out of the car, eager to escape the awkward conversation. I could feel his concern, but I wasn't ready to face it.

Relief and anxiety churned in my stomach, my emotions swirling like a storm. I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself as I watched Dad drive away. The weight of his unspoken words hung over me like a dark cloud, casting a shadow over my thoughts. It was hard to focus. I decided to take a detour and wandered around the other side of the school grounds, the cool air doing little to clear my mind. The vibrant, bustling atmosphere was a stark contrast to my swirling thoughts.

As I walked, I noticed two students in animal mascot costumes handing out fliers. One was dressed as a cow with a bell around its neck, the other as a chicken with a bow on top of its head. It was a bizarre sight, even for our school. Their presence felt surreal, adding to the already strange morning. Curiosity got the better of me as I wondered what on earth were they doing? I approached them cautiously, my mind racing with questions and my heart pounding with anticipation.

“Is this some kind of prank? Revenge for making the bacon and eggs this morning?" I wondered aloud, my heart pounded in my chest, adrenaline surging through my veins as I pushed myself to run faster.

Their oversized costumes made them look both ridiculous and terrifying, a strange combination that piqued my interest. As soon as they saw me, their heads turned in unison, and a great chase ensued.

I bolted, my legs pumping as I weaved through the crowd of students. Their bewildered stares only added to the surrealness of the morning, the air filled with a mix of comedy and confusion as I sprinted past. heart pounded in my chest, adrenaline surging through my veins as I pushed myself to run faster. Despite the ridiculousness, I felt an undeniable connection, a strange sense of challenge. I glanced back and saw the cow and chicken closing in on me.

"Get him!" a feminine voice cried from the chicken mascot costume. The urgency in her voice added to the surreal nature of the chase.

The person in the cow mascot costume charged after me, mooing loudly, her movements surprisingly agile for someone in such a bulky outfit. It was almost as if she was trying to get into character. Her dedication was both amusing and unnerving. The chase felt as though it was going on for eternity as I ducked and weaved. Almost as if she was being possessed, the person in the cow mascot costume was acting like those bulls that would chase matadors with the way she was huffing and positioning herself to gore.

"Moo, moo moo," she called out, her voice muffled by the costume. It was bizarre, yet there was a strange intensity in her tone.

The absurdity of the situation made me pause, but there was an undeniable connection. Even though she wasn't speaking, I felt this strange connection with her. It was as if she was telling me 'if you are a real man, take my best shot.' This felt like a scene straight out of the Greek tale of Theseus and the Minotaur. Was I really about to reenact an epic fable in the middle of the school grounds?"

"MOOO..." she cried out as if she was saying 'SHOW ME WHAT YOU CAN DO...' The challenge in her voice sent a jolt through me, my muscles tensing in response. The air seemed to crackle with anticipation.

Without saying anything, I began to call out her challenge as I slapped my chest to signal to her 'Come at me bro.' No fear, no hesitation. It was going to be the showdown of the century as we stared each other in the eye. Sweat dripped down my face, stinging my eyes and blurring my vision as I tried to steady my ragged breathing. The cool morning air felt sharp against my skin, mingling with the earthy scent of dew-covered grass and the distant hum of morning traffic, heightening my senses.

With one last loud moo, her determination was tangible. She stomped her feet, ready to charge. Almost on cue, a crackling noise from a bystander stepping on a branch signaled the start. I planted my feet firmly, my heart pounding in my chest as she charged forward, each step echoing like a drumbeat in my ears. One on one. Mono e mono. As the person continued charging forward, she took an unexpected tumble, and the cow's head flew off.

"Claire?" I gasped, coming to a halt. The surreal scene shattered, confusion washing over me as I stared at Claire's familiar face emerging from the cow costume. My heart was still racing, but now from bewilderment rather than fear.

"Stop running, Ellis!" Iris's voice called out from the chicken costume. Her voice grounded me, bringing me back to reality.

I stood there, panting and bewildered, my hands on my knees as I tried to catch my breath. Iris caught up to me, her face flushed from the chase. The absurdity of the situation hit me all at once, and I couldn't help but laugh. The tension of the chase soon melted away in the face of such ridiculousness.

"We were trying to get your attention," Iris explained, her cheeks red from the exertion. Her words were simple, but the sincerity in her eyes made me realize how serious they were.

"Yeah, we need to discuss something important," Claire added, her usual monotone slightly breathless. The urgency in her voice cut through the morning air, reminding me that this wasn't just a prank.

The school grounds, usually so familiar, felt charged with a new tension, the air buzzing with an undercurrent of unease. A day earlier, Iris and Claire had gotten permission from the Drama and Handicraft Clubs to borrow some costumes. It was part of a marketing strategy to recruit new students to join their club. But when they spotted me, Claire got too excited and forgot all about the original plan.

"We still haven't had a chance to talk about what happened yesterday with that creature. It's important, Ellis," said Iris, her voice tinged with concern. "That creature that attacked you..." Her words hung in the air, the gravity of the situation sinking in.

Before they could say more, the school bell rang, signaling the start of classes.

"Meet us back in the Home Ec. Room after school," Iris said hurriedly. "We have a lot to talk about and I’ll explain everything then."

Her urgency was palpable, her eyes wide with concern, adding to my growing sense of unease. With that, they dashed off towards the change room to get out of their costumes, leaving me standing there, stunned and bewildered. I glanced at my watch and realized math class was about to begin. I sprinted to my classroom, my mind racing with questions. Each step felt heavier, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on me.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. I stared blankly at my textbooks, the words swimming on the page as my thoughts kept drifting back to the morning's bizarre encounter. What could Iris and Claire possibly want to discuss with me? And why the elaborate costumes? The questions churned in my mind, making it impossible to concentrate.

Part 3

The final bell rang, signaling the end of the school day. I gathered my things and made my way to the Home Ec. Room, my mind still buzzing with questions about Iris and Claire's mysterious request. As I turned the corner, Charlotte waited for me at our meeting spot, her expression unusually serious. Her presence felt like an anchor amidst my swirling thoughts, grounding me in the moment despite the storm of questions in my mind.

"Ellis, can we talk?" she asked, her voice soft but firm. The urgency in her tone caught me off guard, my heart skipping a beat as I tried to read the gravity in her eyes. I could feel the tension in the air, thick and palpable, like a storm cloud ready to burst.

"Uh, sure," I replied, caught off guard. "I was just heading to the west building to meet some friends." I hesitated, sensing that whatever she wanted to discuss was urgent.

"This is important," she insisted, her eyes locking onto mine. "Please, come with me. It's about something important, something you need to know."

The seriousness in her gaze left no room for argument. Seeing the determination in her face, I nodded and followed her out of the school. We walked in silence, the crunch of gravel underfoot and the distant hum of traffic the only sounds, each step feeling heavier with the weight of unspoken words. Eventually, we arrived at the Hogtown Shopping Center, a bustling hub of activity that felt oddly detached from the tension between us. The vibrant displays and cheerful chatter of the shopping complex felt out of place with the gravity of the moment, the bright lights and bustling crowds only heightening the surrealness of the situation.

We wandered through the packed food court, before stopping at a popular fast food joint that sold Korean corn dogs. The smell of fried batter and melted cheese filled the air, a comforting aroma that contrasted sharply with the heaviness in my chest. The delicious smell brought a brief moment of comfort, a small island of normalcy in the sea of tension. Looking at the menu, we ordered a couple of different types of corn dogs and found a quiet spot to sit.

"Poppy and I used to visit here after school." Charlotte's voice was soft, almost a whisper, as we gently blew on the corn dogs to cool them down. “We would come here and talk about the boys in our class, complain about the homework, and wonder what sort of trouble you were getting into. Poppy would be—”

The mention of Poppy's name sent a jolt through me. My hands began to tremble, and a lump formed in my throat. The silence between us felt like a ticking time bomb, each second stretching into an eternity. I waited for her to speak, the tension thick in the air. What could Charlotte possibly have to say about Poppy? The uncertainty gnawed at me. I felt my heart rate spike, and a cold sweat broke out on my forehead.

"Is this why you brought me here?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. The weight of her name hit me like a tidal wave, memories and emotions crashing over me. I struggled to catch my breath. My hands trembled, and I felt a lump form in my throat.

Charlotte took a deep breath, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I know it's hard, Ellis. But we need to talk about what happened. You can't keep bottling it up." Her words were gentle but firm, a mix of empathy and determination. I could see the concern in her eyes, and it made my heart ache even more.

As she spoke, my mind began to spiral. Memories of Poppy flooded back—her laughter, her warmth, the way she always looked out for me. But then came the darker memories, the ones I tried so hard to bury. The accident, the hospital, the unbearable silence that followed. Each memory stabbed at my heart, sharp and relentless, dragging me back to the pain I had tried so hard to bury.

"I... I can't," I stammered, my vision blurring. "I can't talk about it." The words felt heavy, each one a struggle to utter.

“Ellis please.” Charlotte reached across the table, taking my trembling hand in hers. "I miss her too," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "But we have to keep going, for her. She wouldn't want us to be stuck in the past."

Her touch was gentle, but her words felt like a knife twisting in my gut. My stomach churned violently, and my head spun, the world around me tilting as I fought to stay upright. The smell of fried batter and melted cheese, once comforting, now turned my stomach, the rich scents becoming overwhelming and sickening. It was as if the world around me tilted, the bustling food court blurring into a haze. I swayed on my feet, the noise and lights of the food court blurring into a dizzying haze, my senses overwhelmed by the onslaught of memories.

"Stop," I whispered, my voice trembling. "I can't do this."

The weight of my grief pressed down on me, heavy and suffocating, threatening to crush me under its relentless pressure. But it was too much. The pain, the guilt, the overwhelming pressure—it all came crashing down on me. My breathing grew ragged, each breath a battle against the rising tide of panic.

"Ellis, we are family. I'm here for you," she said, her voice breaking. "You don't have to go through this alone." Her voice wavered, the pain in her eyes mirroring my own.

She held my left hand, the area where Schnabelmaske had grabbed. A shiver ran down my spine at the memory, and I felt a cold sweat break out on my forehead. Her concern was palpable, a lifeline in my sea of despair.

"That injury," Charlotte began to squeeze my hand tightly. "It's just like before. Please tell me that you aren't hurting yourself again. We can't go through that again, Ellis."

I felt a flicker of warmth, but it was quickly drowned by the overwhelming urge to escape. The need to flee was overwhelming, drowning out all rational thought. I pushed her hand away and stumbled to get on my feet, my legs trembling with the urge to escape. My vision narrowed to a tunnel, and I bolted, driven by sheer desperation.

"I need to go," I muttered, my vision narrowing to a tunnel. I didn't know where, I just needed to get away.

The sound of her voice faded as I sprinted through the shopping center, the clamor of shoppers and the bright lights blurring into a chaotic backdrop, each step fueled by desperation. I ran through the shopping center, past the bewildered shoppers and the bright storefronts, until I couldn't run anymore.

Gasping for breath I collapsed on a bench, my mind a chaotic mess of emotions. The world around me felt distant and surreal, the vibrant colors and bustling sounds of the retail shops fading into a nightmarish blur. I buried my face in my hands, the memories and pain crashing over me like a relentless wave, the weight of it all threatening to drown me. Tears streamed down my face, hot and unrelenting, each one a testament to the silent storm raging within me. The salty taste mingled with the bitter ache in my chest.

Part 4

After the confrontation with Charlotte, I trudged home, each step heavier than the last. Each step home felt like wading through quicksand, the weight of the day's events dragging me deeper into despair. As I locked the door behind me, I sank to the floor, the cool tiles pressing against my skin, a stark contrast to the storm raging in my mind. I lay there for a while, staring blankly at the ceiling as my thoughts churned. Charlotte's words echoed in my mind, sharp and cutting. I could still see her eyes, cold and unyielding, as she delivered each verbal blow.

With a heavy sigh, I forced myself up and headed to Mom's room. The sight that greeted me was all too familiar. Mom's room resembled a war zone, with cigarette butts scattered like fallen soldiers and beer cans standing as silent sentinels of past battles. The stale stench of smoke and alcohol clung to the air, a harsh replacement of the morning's fleeting scent of breakfast. The chaos mirrored the turmoil inside me.

"Mom?" I called out, my voice a fragile echo in the silent house. "Are you here?" The silence answered, amplifying the void within me.

No response. I sighed, the sound reverberating through the empty house. As I made my way to the sink, a sharp burn flared in my left arm—the same arm that had been clawed by that creature. The skin was red and raw, but I shoved the pain aside, focusing on the cold water splashing against my face.

"Great, just what I needed," I muttered, twisting the faucet. The icy water jolted me awake, its chill biting into my skin and momentarily numbing the pain in my arm, a fleeting distraction from the gnawing discomfort. It was a small solace in an otherwise dismal moment.

Back in the living room, I stared at the framed photographs lining the walls. They captured moments of joy and laughter, but a closer look revealed the wear of time and the strain behind the smiles. The stark contrast between those memories and the present pressed down on me like a weight. I moved through the room like an automaton, picking up the scattered debris. Each action felt like an attempt to bring order to the chaos, even if just for a moment.

Turning on the TV, I craved any sound to break the oppressive silence. The screen flickered to life, revealing pop idol Misty Tears, her radiant smile and infectious energy a stark contrast to the dim, cluttered room around me. Her presence on the screen felt like a distant echo, a reminder of a world filled with light and laughter, so far removed from the shadows that clung to my home.

"Good evening, everyone! Are you ready for my next hit?" Misty Tears' cheerful voice rang out, its brightness only deepening the void inside me.

"Yeah, sure, Misty. Just what I need right now," I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper as I tossed another empty can into the trash, the clink echoing in the silence. I wondered if Misty's cheerful facade ever cracked, if she ever felt the same emptiness that gnawed at me. The words felt hollow, a feeble attempt to mask my despair.

With the room finally in order, I turned to my backpack. The homework was light, so I quickly finished it and then picked up one of the French novels Charlotte had given me. The rhythmic flow of the French language and the vivid stories within offered a temporary escape, each word a soothing balm against the harsh reality that lurked just beyond the pages.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the house in shadows, I finished tidying up. I grabbed my jacket, ready to pick up Mom. The cool, crisp night air, tinged with the scent of pine and distant city lights, was a welcome relief from the stifling, smoke-filled atmosphere inside. I stepped outside, the weight of the day's events pressing down on me, and took a deep breath, letting the fresh air fill my lungs.

***

The streets were eerily quiet, the hum of streetlights and distant chatter forming a symphony of solitude, punctuated occasionally by the distant laughter from a nearby café or the soft strains of music from an open window. The path to the Entertainment District was familiar, but tonight it felt different—heavier. The colorful lights of the district began to pierce the fog of my thoughts, their neon glow reflecting off the wet pavement and casting vibrant hues on the surrounding buildings, a stark contrast to the solitude of my walk. Each step felt like wading through a thick mist, my thoughts swirling like the fog around me, heavy and impenetrable.

Halfway through my walk, a familiar figure caught my eye. Violet, her silverish-purple hair shimmering under the streetlights, strolled casually. She wore a light sweater, a skirt, and knee-high boots, a cute, casual outfit that stood out against the night. Her presence was a beacon in the darkness, her casual wave and bright smile cutting through the gloom like a lighthouse guiding a lost ship.

"Violet? Is that you?" I hesitated to call out, the weight of the day's events still pressing down on me. The sight of her sparked a flicker of warmth in my otherwise heavy heart.

"Ellis! What a coincidence," she said, her smile brightening the night. "I was just out shopping for groceries. Care to join me?"

Her cheerful tone was a welcome contrast to the somber atmosphere, her laughter ringing out like a bell, clear and bright against the muted backdrop of the night. But something about her presence was reassuring. We strolled side by side, the vibrant lights and sounds of the district wrapping around us like a comforting blanket. I wondered if she would ask how I was doing, but she didn't. Instead, she chatted about trivial things, her voice a small relief to my troubled mind.

"Sure, I guess I don't have to rush." Her presence and conversation were a much-needed distraction from my worries.

We arrived at Hog Mart, the fluorescent lights casting a sterile glow over the aisles, illuminating rows of neatly stacked products and the occasional shopper pushing a squeaky cart. As we wandered through the store, I noticed a mischievous glint in Violet's eyes. She led me to the spice aisle, her playful demeanor was infectious, and I felt a smile tugging at my lips, a rare lightness breaking through the day's gloom.

"I'm looking for ghost peppers," she said, her eyes scanning the shelves.

"Ghost peppers? Those are really hot, right?" I asked, intrigued by her choice.

The idea of people enjoying intense pain in their meal was a perplexing thought. I wondered if Violet always had this adventurous side, hidden beneath her usual calm exterior.

"Yes, they are. Did you know they were once the hottest peppers in the world?" she explained, picking up a jar. "But not all of them are spicy."

Her knowledge impressed me, I found myself looking at her with newfound admiration. Reaching into the far back, Violet picked up a jar of chocolate-dipped ghost peppers. The bizarre combination of rich chocolate and fiery ghost pepper intrigued me, the contrast between sweet and spicy piquing my curiosity.

With her items in the basket, we headed to the checkout. The mundane task of grocery shopping felt different with Violet by my side, her lively presence turning the ordinary store into a place of unexpected adventure. Before I could react, she held up a small pepper. "Open your mouth," she instructed with a grin.

"W-what?" I stammered, taken aback. Her sudden request startled me, but her playful expression reassured me.

"Just trust me," she said, her smile widening.

Reluctantly, I opened my mouth, and she slid the pepper in. I braced myself for the burning sensation, but to my surprise, it was sweet. The unexpected sweetness made me laugh, a welcome release of tension.

"Oh wow?!" The unique taste lingered on my tongue, a pleasant surprise that mingled with the faint aroma of fresh produce and spices from the store. "Even without the chocolate, this ghost pepper is sweeter than I imagined."

Violet laughed. "Got you! Not all ghost peppers are spicy. Some are bred to be sweet."

I chuckled as I felt the tight knot in my chest loosen, replaced by a warmth that spread through me. Her prank was a light-hearted distraction, a rare moment of levity that lifted the heaviness in my heart, much like the city's lights began to twinkle as dusk settled in.

As we stepped out of the store, the cool night air greeted us, carrying the faint scent of blooming flowers from a nearby garden. Curiosity gnawed at me—why had Violet invited me along? Sensing my unspoken question, she finally spoke, her unexpected company making me feel seen and cared for.

"I thought you might need a distraction," she said softly, her eyes meeting mine. "Sometimes, it's good to get away from everything for a while." Her gentle words resonated with my need for escape, and I found myself nodding, the weight of the day's events momentarily lifting.

"Thank you, Violet. I really needed this," I said, feeling the tension in my body release. Her words struck a chord, filling me with gratitude.

"Anytime, Ellis.” The sincerity in her eyes warmed me as she smiled back. “If you ever need to talk, you can always find me in the student council office."

Soon, it was time to depart. We said our goodbyes, and as I walked away, I felt the heaviness in my heart lift slightly. Violet's kindness and the unexpected outing had given me a sense of relief. Her presence had turned a mundane evening into a moment of connection and healing.

Part 5

The neon lights of the Entertainment District blinked and flickered, casting colorful reflections on the cobblestone pavement. As I trudged through the crowded streets, each step felt like dragging a boulder. The weight of the day's events returned and pressed down on my shoulders, making every movement a struggle. The vibrant chaos of the district clashed sharply with my internal turmoil.

Hammer and Ale, a speakeasy with legendary status from the Prohibition era, had been restored to its former glory under new ownership. Once a notorious haven for illegal alcohol and mafia gangs in the late 1800s, the Entertainment District had transformed into a vibrant hub of restaurants, clubs, and shops. Now a favorite spot for those seeking a taste of the past, its dark, wooden facade and discreet entrance gave it an air of mystery.

As I pushed open the heavy door, the dimly lit interior of the bar enveloped me. The rich aroma of aged whiskey and polished wood filled the air, mingling with the low hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses, a sensory tapestry that spoke of countless nights spent in quiet revelry. The atmosphere was thick with nostalgia and secrecy, the dim lighting casting long shadows that seemed to whisper tales of the past, each corner holding a story waiting to be uncovered.

"Well, if it isn't Ellis," a familiar voice called out from behind the bar.

"Hey Jon, how about serving me your finest bottle of scotch?" I greeted, trying to muster a smile.

Jon, the owner, was a towering figure with broad shoulders and a stern expression. Known as the Hammer from his days as a professional hockey player, he never missed an opportunity to give me some grief. I wondered if he could sense the turmoil beneath my calm exterior, if he knew how much his familiar presence meant in that moment.

"Here to pick up your mom again, kid?" Jon asked, his eyes narrowing as he leaned on the bar. His presence was both reassuring and intimidating, a comforting anchor in the storm of my thoughts, yet his stern gaze always made me feel like a kid caught sneaking out past curfew.

"Yeah, Jon. Is she here?" I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. A knot tightened in my stomach, my breath catching as I braced for his answer.

Jon let out a heavy sigh, the sound blending with the low murmur of the bar and the clinking of glasses. His raspy voice hinted at two things: he needed a cigarette badly, and Mom had done something foolish again.

"Yeah, she's here. But she's in no shape to be seen." His words hit me like a punch, the reality of the situation sinking in as the knot tightened in my stomach. My hands clenched into fists at my sides, preparing me for what to come.

"I need to take her home." The resolve in my voice masked the fear and frustration churning inside me.

Jon studied me for a moment before nodding. "Alright, but be careful. That guy she's with is trouble." He pointed toward a dim corner of the bar where my mother sat, a drunken mess, with a disheveled man leering beside her. His words sent a chill down my spine.

"Hee hee..." I recognized that laugh. The sound of her, once a source of comfort, now felt like a dagger, sharp and painful, cutting through the haze of the bar.

I made my way over, my heart pounding. Mom's eyes were glassy, and her movements were sluggish. I wondered how many times I'd have to drag her out of places like this, each time hoping it would be the last. The man beside her reeked of alcohol and cheap cologne, his disheveled appearance and sneer a stark reminder of the bar's darker clientele. The sight of her struggling, her glassy eyes pleading silently for help, strengthened my resolve.

"Mom, it's time to go," I said gently, trying to lift her from the seat. My voice wavered, betraying my anxiety.

"Hey, who do you think you are?" the dirtbag slurred, his voice filled with irritation. "Can't you see that we're having a good time?"

The man wore a leather jacket, ripped jeans, and a skull ring, his smug grin widening as he wrapped his arm around Mom's waist. His menacing presence contrasted sharply with the dim, cozy ambiance of the bar, where the warm glow of vintage lamps and the soft murmur of conversations created an almost surreal backdrop to the unfolding drama. I wanted to interact as little as possible so I ignored him, focusing on getting Mom to her feet.

"Come on, Mom. Let's go." My voice trembled with urgency, my heart pounding in my chest as fear and determination battled within me.

"Ooh honey~ Be a sweetheart and ask Jon to bring more drinks." Mom's words were slurred and impolite, but she still looked cheerful. Her breath reeked of alcohol, a pungent mix of whiskey and cheap beer, a sign she'd been drinking elsewhere before stumbling into this den of nostalgia.

The man stood up, his face contorted with anger. "Don't you ignore me, kid!" His sudden movement sent my heart racing.

"I'm not here to talk to you,” I said, turning my head away from him. “Mom. You and I need to have a chat."

The tension between us was palpable, the air thick with unspoken threats as his beady eyes bore into mine, daring me to make a move. His glare was filled with malice, furious that I was ruining his fun. He tightened his grip on Mom's waist, making her resist as he tried to pull her closer. The sight of her struggling strengthened my resolve.

"What?! And you kiss mommy with that mouth. Are you really talking back to someone who could be your new daddy?" he shouted, drawing irritated looks from other customers. "Kids these days think they're so clever."

His words dripped with malice, each one a barb aimed at me, the venom in his voice sending a shiver down my spine. The flickering neon signs cast eerie shadows on the worn wooden floors. The scum rose from his seat, trying to intimidate me and grabbing me by the collar. A wave of fear and adrenaline surged through me, my heart pounding in my chest, but before I could react, Jon's towering figure loomed into view.

"You got a problem?" Jon's imposing presence cast a long shadow over the man, the dim bar lights highlighting his broad shoulders and stern expression. My breath came in short, ragged gasps as I struggled to stay calm. Jon's eyes were cold and unyielding, his jaw set in a hard line as he confronted the man.

"Seriously! Now you're trying to ruin my fun? Who do you think you are?" The man sneered, his grip tightening on my collar as he tried to assert his dominance.

This must have been his way to impress women with his tough attitude, but looking at the room of people, it only made him look like a fool. His face turned red as more patrons discreetly took out their phones, the soft glow of screens adding to the tension in the air.

"You can call me Mr. Hammer," Jon said, looming over him. "This is my bar. Pay your bill and get out of here." Jon's approach was slow and deliberate, each step echoing ominously in the silent bar. Jon's stern demeanor left no room for argument, his words a command that demanded compliance.

The man's bravado evaporated, and he took a step back, fear flickering in his eyes. The dim bar lights flickered, casting long shadows that danced on the walls. The distant sound of a jukebox playing a melancholic tune added a haunting undertone to the confrontation. After thinking it over, he quickly threw the money on the table and stormed out, cursing under his breath.

"Why don't you stay a little longer," Jon said once he could no longer see the scumbag. "I can pour Lilac some coffee. We have some cheesecake in the back for you."

Jon’s offer was a mix of hospitality and an attempt to diffuse the tension in the bar. Knowing him, he probably said that to make sure the piece of trash was gone from the area, so we wouldn't bump into him again.

"Nah, I have to wake up early for class tomorrow," I said, looking at Mom. "It's time to go home." My voice was steady, but inside, I felt a mix of relief and weariness.

As Jon helped Mom to her feet, another server approached, her concerned look illuminated by the soft glow of the bar's vintage lamps. Her eyes flicked between the both of us as she offered to call a cab. Her concern was evident, a reminder of how precarious our situation was.

"We're fine, just taking her home," I replied, forcing a smile that barely masked my exhaustion."

With some assistance, I managed to get Mom out of the bar. Every once in a while, she mumbled incoherently as we walked through the dark, rain-slicked streets, her steps unsteady and echoing softly in the quiet night. I kept a firm grip on her, guiding her and offering support. Each step felt like trudging through quicksand, the weight of responsibility pressing down on me, making every movement a struggle.

"Ellis, when do you think Poppy will come back home?" she slurred, her words blending together. Her question cut through me like a knife, a painful reminder of our fractured family that left me momentarily speechless.