Chapter Text
Aaron knows she doesn't care about him. He figured it out so damn long ago. He has come to terms with the fact that he will remain an orphan with a living mother.
There used to be resentment. He doesn't feel anything right now. It's just a woman he shares a place with. To call Tilda a "mother" doesn't turn the tongue. Definitely not at this second or at some other time. Mothers love their children. She seems to hate him.
She throws a chair at him. Aaron is shooing away on pure reflex. Tilda has a breakdown, and she needs drugs. Aaron injected the last of her reserves into his veins. He clenches his hands into fists.
Tilda screams, sputtering.
"You ungrateful little bastard, I took you! I didn't leave you, show some respect!"
His mother's words still hurt, no matter how hard Aaron tries to convince himself otherwise. However, he still grabs the jacket from the hanger, going in search of a dose for her. If Tilda dies, none of them will be better off. They don't even have money for a gram, but Aaron still swears that he will get drugs for his mother.
Everything he does for that her will never even get a thank you. Aaron wants to spit out all the accumulated poison in Tilda's face.
She doesn't really thank him when Aaron comes home. A whole day passed, and the mother didn't even seem to worry about where he was. In normal families, this is discussed and punished.
In their family, Tilda snatches a bag of cocaine from his hands, pushing him aside. Aaron bangs the back of his head against the doorjamb. His mother doesn't care about anything but drugs. She doesn't even bother to ask why all the knees on Aaron's jeans are stained with street dirt.
Aaron is willing to bet that she absolutely doesn't care how he got drugs for her. It's not pleasant in this. Especially when he has no money and he is young, handsome and enough… immoral to agree to all sorts of shit.
He could have been gone for months and she wouldn't have noticed. The realization of this fact makes Aaron purse his lips.
"And that's all you could get," the mother's dissatisfied voice cuts through the silence. "I might as well have got myself a dog, you ungrateful boy."
Aaron inhales through his nose. She's always unhappy.
"You could just fucking thank me. This shit cost me a lot, mom."
A furious fire appears in Tilda's eyes. The slap burns his cheek. Tilda narrows her eyes, pulling her son's hair. Aaron counts to three. Her next blow falls on his liver. Aaron runs his tongue around the lips that burst from the blow, licking the blood. Tilda screams dirty curses.
"You're my fucking mom," he snaps, spitting bloody saliva on the floor. "My mom, holy shit! You have love me! You have to take care of me!"
Tilda freezes, raising her hand for another blow.
"I don't owe you anything, son of a bitch," she mints. "I didn't even want you to be born."
This is the end. Previously, he had at least some flimsy hope for a normal life. From that moment on, everything goes to ruin.
"What have I done that you hate me so much?! I just need mom! Is it that hard for you?! I'm not fucking asking for anything else!"
Tilda curls her lips in a sneer.
"Stop whining. I never needed you, don't be a child, Aaron."
She grabs the bag from the table, bypassing it, and goes up the stairs.
Aaron gets cold inside when she turns around for a second to finish him off with the last sentence.
"I regret that I did not have an abortion at the time."
The shot hits right in the head, piercing the temples with pain.