What is Left to Make Better?

Satoru's loss of his mother years ago was also the loss of all will and wish for life. / But they don't keep him prisoner, who can keep prisoner someone who no longer exists?

Vague espresso colored eyes held no life even if the body they were attached to drew breath, the capsule of emptiness that was once kind and caring Satoru Kahn. But that person had been long gone, died of heartbreak and yet the heart continued to pump blood. His lungs filled with air, body craved food that the boy did not notice. Skin tight on his bone, long hair somewhat maintained though that was usually because of other. Though light drew a reaction, a slight flinch within the thin fingers which were wrapped around a picture frame long since shattered though the picture remain in tacked. A smiling woman, with thin fingers and short black hair and the same brown eyes.

The room which had been illuminated revealed a rather modest apartment, clean and almost looking as if no one lived in it let alone a twenty two year old drug addict. Who sat upon the flood, only half aware of the picture frame or of the person who entered the room. The only sign of the boy's 'habit' being that of the opium on the table matched with a lighter, besides an uneaten plate of food.

"Tsk,"

A rather attractive woman possibly in her thirties with strawberry blond hair and blue eyes manicured blue nails reaching out and digging into the tin jaw drawing the dazed eyes towards her.

"You would move to get this, you shower, you do drugs but you wont f*****g eat anything," she muttered angrily, more so to herself and not seeming to show too much emotion except anger rather than concern.

Drawing a thumb over the full lips her eyes did not soften though the anger began to dissipate instead drawing the slightly taller up. Allowing him to fall back, not seeming to care too much about the opiate induced state.

At this point, he could care less of anything that happened. His mother was dead after such a long fight.

There had never been enough time with her, tears rolled down from slow blinking eyes, heart clenching.

No matter how much opium he used, no matter the method these emotions seemed to be able to echo into a body that for so long had been dead.

The woman and man introduced him to the drug on his mother's death bed.

The woman and man had once been known as Kathrin and her husband Vincent had taken pity upon the ailing florist and young son. Paying for the medical treatments when she had to go to the hospital and sending Satoru to school and later a nice private tutor.

Though Satoru knew this was not just form the goodness of their heart, he had been stalked by this predatory couple. And his mother was in no health to have to worry, and the boy had promised once his mother was better- He would tell her the truth, that they were not the simply flamboyant caring benefactors.. To show her they were not good people, but that wouldn't have mattered because she-she would have been better and all had been worth it.

And now, he only saw them as the man and woman. They were the only ones who entered the apartment- He and his mother's apartment- His sanctuary and torture chamber in one. Surrounded by the person he loved the most and the memories; however, running from them all the same between an opium haze and acid trips. Running from all that Vincent and Karin had done in these rooms, running from all the love that had been shared of his mother. Running deeper and deeper in the void he was creating in his head- opium clearing paths. But liek alabrynth, all paths lead to the center and eventually his opium lead paths would all ways lead back to the center- reality, the apartment, and the memories.

Vincent and Kathrin seemed to hardly care because no matter what Satoru was never able to run into a haze far enough. There was no true reason why Satoru was chosen, sure he was pretty though not trully 'girly' like some of her husband's tastes, but overall plain. Other than the long red main of hair, a face mixed of Asian and Caucasian with cream skin. Utterly devoted and innocent, originally was what attracted Kathrin although even now they could probably throw the kid in an alley to rot... No one would really notice, no one was around to care.

"Enjoy this haze, it is the last," the woman murmured, against a flushed cheek. Laid over the thin form his clothes in disarray and erection brought by the pill she had slipped between his lips. The opium and natural preference made it impossible for him to be anything less than aroused naturally to the cruel beauty.

Espresso eyes stared at the crease where the cushion had been placed against the strong edge of the couch. Long fingers digging into the couch causing a soft chuckle from Kathrin seeing somewhat of the old desperate reactions even though the boy was drugged. Rising off of the frail body, lighting her own cigarette.

She was sure Vincent would hardly care whether the boy was on or off as long as he was around when the mood came. Though they originally introduced the drug more so as a control after the mother had died to keep the boy from either committing suicide or running away, now without something there tying him to them.

Which giving the grief-stricken boy opium seemed to keep him nice and for the most part not so weepy.

Though not all their humanity had dissipated, or so they thought when they kept up the tab for Renting the apartment and funeral arrangements. Kathrin or Vincent usually came to make sure he was still alive and get whatever they wanted at the time, though he seemed to bath and take care of basic needs between stupor other than eating... Which was a growing problem considering she had been leaving bruises- not that she truly minded- but these were unintentional and she was growing 'worried' of the kid starving himself.

Leaving a drug head to die in the gutter would be a tragedy to find a boy whose mother had passed and had fallen into depression would not be too surprising. And no one else was around to say anything different, Satoru was depressed, Satoru used drugs, Satoru had not left the apartment of his own will for two years. If he died.

"Once you get better, I might bring more," the woman murmured drawing the chin to where those eyes were looking at her.

It took well after the woman left before Satoru's mind began to comprehend, and after another hour or so the numbing haze left him as it all ways did. Usually -if he wasn't filthy, he would just take more and more of the drug until he fogged back into a place where his broken heart was that of a dulled, pulsating pain that rode through his body along with his blood.

However, the table was cleaned off. Plate in the trash can and drugs off of the table, and for several moments , fingers dig into his hair and knees drawn still disheveled how the woman had left him...

Better than the man. He would never just deiced to slip a blue pill between his lips and f**k him, Vincent would make him want him, draw him out of the growing labrynth. Into reaity, only to shatter him into little pieces.

"Better," the shell murmured softly, knees drawn to his chest. Laughing softly although the sound seemed stuck between a dry laugh and crying. Forehead pressed almost roughly into his knees, he tried to take steady breaths only for his chest to tighten harshly. Eventually he forced himself to move, tenderly placing the cracked picture frame back on the shelf upon the wall.

Shaky legs and spinning head from hunger, usually easily to ignore now he was unable. Not that Satoru could not fend for himself. Starving himself was just a slow road to death that he silently pleaded for, only to feel guilty if he took his own life. His mother had fought valiantly for her own- what was he to snuff his own out? On the other side, it was not like he was truly using the life that he would have much rather given every last drop to the kind, caring, and wonderful woman whose smile he only saw in pictures.

On his own, he would not be able to afford drugs let alone know where to find them. He'd have to be care, but maybe... Maybe he could truly 'get better' rather than more than what Kathrin meant to stay pleasing for their games.

...But then a smile drew to his lips- a hallow thing as the man's smile felt like it was burning through his back even if he knew the man was not there... A soft laugh escaped his lips and rushing tears which dropped on the floors as a rush of utter helplessness over took him. More so the fierce self loathing because Satoru knew he was letting them have so much power- more so that is did not matter any more of him 'letting' them do anything. . Not even having to threaten the red head, oh no, his will to live, will to leave had left when his mother took her last breath on her death bed, maybe before then. When the doctors told him, she was not even there. That she could not ever possibly know he sat in the chere, there. That sitting there was a waste because she had long left. Nothing in the brain was left there, that was her. Possibly there was were he had left as well.

Author's Note

I have no beta nor editor (Always open for one!) so please excuse the horrible grammar and probably mis use of words... Really wanted this scene to be more than it is and definitely not going to be the last project dealing with Satoru. Also to clarify, Satoru's mother died when he was twenty; however, Vincent and Kathrin had been 'helping' them for several years roughly when Satoru was probably 16-17 thus the minor based tags.

Reviews

[Bushra Naqshbandi]

A heart-touching write as always. You're so amazing with expressing emotions. Keep up the good work. :)