Overworld Chronicles Books 1-2: Sweet Blood of Mine & Dark Light of Mine by John Corwin Read Free Book Online Page B
Authors: John Corwin
and watched me through heavy-lidded eyes as I stretched. I scratched him behind the ears. He meowed.
"You're my one true pal, aren't you? You'd never abandon me."
He purred, which told me in no uncertain terms that he'd be my true friend to the end no matter what obstacles life threw our way.
The garage door opened and shut. Keys clattered on the kitchen counter. I cracked open my bedroom door and found Mom in the hallway with her back to me, staring at a picture on her smartphone. I strained to make out details. It looked like a little girl with bright blonde hair in pigtails. I crept forward. A creaking floorboard betrayed my presence.
Mom stuffed the phone back into her purse and wiped tears from her face as she turned to face me. "Hey, son." She pressed a hand to my forehead and did her usual mumbling routine.
As the tingle faded from my forehead, I took her hand and looked into her deep blue eyes. "Mom, what's really going on?"
She smiled and brushed a lock of blonde hair from her face. "Just a rough spot at work." She patted the top of my hand with her other one. "Nothing to worry about. I need you to be strong and brave for me and your father."
"You know me," I said, flexing my non-existent bicep. "I'm the man ."
She kissed me on the cheek. "That's my boy." Mom turned to the couch and stared at Dad's slumbering form. A new cluster of alcohol bottles had sprouted on the coffee table. Vodka had joined the beer posse. Mom's hands clenched into fists and I feared she might attack him. Instead, she took deep breaths and went into their bedroom, slamming the door shut behind her.
I sat outside her door and listened until she cried herself to sleep.
The next morning, Mom took me to brunch, a family tradition that didn't have quite the same meaning when Dad was still passed out drunk on the couch from the night before. Still, I hadn't seen Mom much lately and I jumped at the chance to spend some time with her although I would never admit it—even under torture—to any of my friends. Oh wait, that's right—I don't have any friends.
Mom asked me about school, my friends, and a million other little things I really didn't want to talk about since the epic pile of fail in my life was expanding exponentially. I did tell her my grades were great—the single bright spot in my existence.
"You know how much I love you, right, Justin?" she asked out of the blue.
"Of course, Mom." My face flushed with heat and I looked at the cute girls sitting a table over from us to make sure they hadn't heard. I pushed my empty plate away and stared at the puddle of syrup where once a stack of blueberry pancakes had been. "I just want to know what's going on with you and Dad."
She sighed and stared dejectedly at a happy nuclear family eating their brunch with big grins, giggles, and cheerful banter. "I feel like such a failure," she said after a moment. "I'm failing you. I'm failing your father. And there's nothing I can do about it." Tears glistened in her eyes.
I grabbed both her hands and squeezed. "Mom, don't say that. You're not a failure. You and Dad are the best parents I could ever have. You're a great mom."
She sniffed and smiled. "Do you really mean it?"
"Of course I do. I know I'm not the best son in the world, but I love you guys so much even if I can't say that around my friends."
A laugh broke through her tears. "Teenage boys." She sniffled, wiped her red nose with a napkin, and took another look at the laughing family across the room. "Sometimes there are things in life we have to do. Difficult decisions that hurt so much it feels like no matter which choice we make, it's the wrong one." She turned her eyes on me. "No matter what happens, Justin, know that I love you. Even if you hate me one day and refuse to ever talk to me again, just know that I understand. And I will never blame you for it."
"What would you ever do to make me hate you?" Worry gripped my chest with icy fingers.
"Things happen, honey. People
"You're my one true pal, aren't you? You'd never abandon me."
He purred, which told me in no uncertain terms that he'd be my true friend to the end no matter what obstacles life threw our way.
The garage door opened and shut. Keys clattered on the kitchen counter. I cracked open my bedroom door and found Mom in the hallway with her back to me, staring at a picture on her smartphone. I strained to make out details. It looked like a little girl with bright blonde hair in pigtails. I crept forward. A creaking floorboard betrayed my presence.
Mom stuffed the phone back into her purse and wiped tears from her face as she turned to face me. "Hey, son." She pressed a hand to my forehead and did her usual mumbling routine.
As the tingle faded from my forehead, I took her hand and looked into her deep blue eyes. "Mom, what's really going on?"
She smiled and brushed a lock of blonde hair from her face. "Just a rough spot at work." She patted the top of my hand with her other one. "Nothing to worry about. I need you to be strong and brave for me and your father."
"You know me," I said, flexing my non-existent bicep. "I'm the man ."
She kissed me on the cheek. "That's my boy." Mom turned to the couch and stared at Dad's slumbering form. A new cluster of alcohol bottles had sprouted on the coffee table. Vodka had joined the beer posse. Mom's hands clenched into fists and I feared she might attack him. Instead, she took deep breaths and went into their bedroom, slamming the door shut behind her.
I sat outside her door and listened until she cried herself to sleep.
The next morning, Mom took me to brunch, a family tradition that didn't have quite the same meaning when Dad was still passed out drunk on the couch from the night before. Still, I hadn't seen Mom much lately and I jumped at the chance to spend some time with her although I would never admit it—even under torture—to any of my friends. Oh wait, that's right—I don't have any friends.
Mom asked me about school, my friends, and a million other little things I really didn't want to talk about since the epic pile of fail in my life was expanding exponentially. I did tell her my grades were great—the single bright spot in my existence.
"You know how much I love you, right, Justin?" she asked out of the blue.
"Of course, Mom." My face flushed with heat and I looked at the cute girls sitting a table over from us to make sure they hadn't heard. I pushed my empty plate away and stared at the puddle of syrup where once a stack of blueberry pancakes had been. "I just want to know what's going on with you and Dad."
She sighed and stared dejectedly at a happy nuclear family eating their brunch with big grins, giggles, and cheerful banter. "I feel like such a failure," she said after a moment. "I'm failing you. I'm failing your father. And there's nothing I can do about it." Tears glistened in her eyes.
I grabbed both her hands and squeezed. "Mom, don't say that. You're not a failure. You and Dad are the best parents I could ever have. You're a great mom."
She sniffed and smiled. "Do you really mean it?"
"Of course I do. I know I'm not the best son in the world, but I love you guys so much even if I can't say that around my friends."
A laugh broke through her tears. "Teenage boys." She sniffled, wiped her red nose with a napkin, and took another look at the laughing family across the room. "Sometimes there are things in life we have to do. Difficult decisions that hurt so much it feels like no matter which choice we make, it's the wrong one." She turned her eyes on me. "No matter what happens, Justin, know that I love you. Even if you hate me one day and refuse to ever talk to me again, just know that I understand. And I will never blame you for it."
"What would you ever do to make me hate you?" Worry gripped my chest with icy fingers.
"Things happen, honey. People
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