Forgotten Mornings.

It's just breakfast...right?

It was just another morning. Just like all the others. The sun still rose, the clouds still sat, and the sky sat in a lue haze above the McCarthy house. But little Oliver felt the air of change blow through his home's halls. It wasn't a bad change, just an unwanted change is all. His first day of school was that very morning, but he was still waiting for the bus. Time ticked away, the subtle ticks and tocks drilling into Oliver's mind. It wasn't that he was strained for attention, he was just alone. At the core of his being, he knew things would change when his mother re-married. Not like this. He never imagined it this way. He'd come home to cold food and forgotten mail. A single tray of a T.V. dinner, half cooked. He was never strived to get his mother, but it was never a problem before.

 

She was working, and she had no time to play or cook. She depended on her husband, Richard. Oliver's face stared at the cerel bowl sitting in front of him. His mother had poured it in hopes of regaining love from her son. It was cold and soggy by the time Oliver got to it and her note. But, he ignored the pittered feeling that it was his fault. He watched as Richard emerged from what his mother called, "The Dungeon", but Oliver knew it was the basement. Oliver could sense a difference in his heir.

 

Richard's eyes were blood-shot, he smelled sugary, yet at the same time hinted a bit of urine. Oliver looked to the scarred arms of his father and blinked away a fear of the same scars he got after he itched too hard during chicken pox.

"Hey junior," Richard said, voice ragged and scratched. He patted Oliver's brown hair and sat next to him, scooping a bit of coffee beans from the empty container. He sucked them down like candy and mumbled a curse.

"School today," Oliver said, his voice high and pitchy in random words. He regained control when he cleared his throat with a mumble.

 

"Really...cool," Richard mused. It wasn't like Oliver and Richard to talk to each other. So as Richard took out a vile of white crystals, Oliver smiled a bit, like he was going to share candy with him.

"What kind of candy is that?" Oliver asked, his mind a buzz with revelations of the flavor. Richard chuckled and handed Oliver a small crystal.

"Eat it, you'll find out," Oliver stuck the white crystal in his mouth. It tasted like disgusting medicine. He instantly spit it towards Richard, landing it on his cheek. Richard sneered and smacked Oliver's face, allowing Oliver to stumble back.

"Don't you dare spit on me. Ever. Again. Understand?" Richard asked, his face flushed of blood and veins popping in his neck. Oliver nodded, hearing a bus horn in front. He scurried from the house and ran onto the bus. Feeling the shame sink into his lower gut as the bus rolled onward.