Marcus

“Just seven more days”. Marcus said as he walked into his home in the same slouched manner as he usually did. A gray, very, damp and hopeless home awaited him. It was quiet in his home. As it usually was after school, with a violent cough here and there coming from upstairs.

Marcus dropped off his heavy backpack with relief at the door, it was Friday so he wouldn't need it. A silent deep breath coming from his mouth. And, as usual, Marcus made his way upstairs to see his mother. His mother was in pain, suffering from lung cancer and dementia.

However there was nothing Marcus could do, the doctor said that the only thing left to do is make her as comfortable as possible.

As he went up the stairs, he gazed at the pictures on the wall slowly. One stood out to him, however, a picture of him his mother and father on the beach of St. Simons. His father, dressed in a sailor's white uniform, and his mother in a red dress. And Marcus, still a baby wearing a blue bathing suit.

“Why can't we go back to that, God? Why is this happening to us? Why have you put me in this situation? Are you-”. Marcus was cut, off by a voice a few yards ahead of him.

“H-hello? Is there somebody there”? Marcus’s mother cried.

“It's just me Mom, just like every other time”. Marcus said back in a disrespectful tone.

“Gerald? Is that you? I nee-”. Her sentence was cut off by a brutal fit of coughs.

Marcus rushed up the stairs and into his mother's bedroom. As he walked in he was met with the smell of death and throw up. His mother lay in a pool of her own excrement was dressed in a white night with orange flowers scattered throughout it. Her hair was all gone, and her face was as pale as a marble slate. And large red circles around her ankles and arms.

As Marcus stood there, his mother glanced at him. A look that is indescribable was on her face. A look that can tell you exactly what is on someone's mind. A look that an old dog gives before its death. Marcus knew his mother was in pain. He had always ignored it and cared for his mother anyway. But this time he knew something had to be done.

But Marcus did nothing. He knew he couldn't do anything. So, he walked back downstairs, picked up his backpack and walked back upstairs. He unzipped all the pockets of his backpack and poured all the contents out. Then, he packed the bag full of clothes and went back downstairs and picked up his iPod and headphones.

Marcus never had a phone, they could never afford one. But he did have an old iPod that belonged to his father. Something he used quite often. He loved music from the 70s, 80s, and 90s.

Marcus, with little hesitation, walked out the front door and walked down the street. With millions of thoughts going through his head.

“What the f**k are you doing Marcus? Are you just abandoning your mother? What about school? You're walking away from everything”.

Marcus knew he was leaving everything behind and that was the beauty of it. No more problems. No more school. No more anything. Just him and his journey.

He had no clue what he had just got himself into.