James slowly walked home from school with the worst cases of bruises he ever got from Alex. He didn't know if it was because he looked at his bully wrong or something. Whatever it was didn't matter. He hated Alex regardless.
But James feared him more than he hated him. Even when they met for the first time, he knew instinctively he didn't stand a chance. There was fundamentally something about Alex that screams 'not to be messed with'. The way he walks into a room and everyone takes notice. His large frame, his jacked body, his pleasant deep-toned voice; which makes anyone instinctively listen to him, even if he was whispering. His grades are top of the school--which was both funny and insane because he's the ace of the elite college's football league. Where does he find the time to study and rank consistently on top in an institution known for their very competitive academics? James didn't know, but he did it.
A smart, charming, athletic jock. Perfect through and through. He'd be an idol for James if he didn't start bullying him. Regardless, he didn't try to resist the bullying at first because he knew for sure telling the school would only make it worse. There's no way the school would punish a high-performing athlete for a nobody like him.
But he fought back once 2 years ago and James wished in the world he hadn't. His mom raised him to never take shit from anyone, never take injustice lying down, never to compromise his principles
Because all of these make up the better version of him tomorrow. And being the best version of yourself, where you're truly happy and fulfilled, isn't that the true purpose and meaning of life? She always described that kind of unswerving, unrelenting way of living strong. Beautiful.
Lily told James when he was young that she's lived it ever since the moment she first saw him at his birth. And that she wanted the same kind of feeling for him in the future. But god, he regrets it. His stomach churns just thinking about it. Fighting back earned him Alex's focused ire for months on end until finally, even the people around him were targeted. He let down his mom and dad. He let down everyone and it's all his fault--
"James! What happened to your face?"
He heard his mom ask as he arrived. Guilt, shame and sadness all blended and surfaced his mind when he turned to look at her. Apparently, it showed on his face.
"Did he do this to you again?" she asked in abject horror.
His silence said it all.
"That can't be right. I-I made sure he was in a good mood. Honey, d-did you do anything to piss him off...?"
His stomach sunk lower. How could she say that? Does it matter? Was he going to live his life somehow making sure he didn't do anything Alex wouldn't like? He was the one who got beat up. How was it his fault?
He looked at her with a hint of resentment and hurt. She was taken aback, also realizing how she misspoke. Her hand immediately held his as she whispered guiltily, "I'm sorry. That's not what I meant." James saw her eyes begin to tear up and got mad at himself. None of this was her fault. If anything, he let her down 2 years ago. Why was he getting mad at his strong, selfless, beautiful mom when she was only trying to help?
"No, I know what you meant. It's okay. It's not your fault. And maybe it's not mine either, because I don't know what I did. He just saw me in the hallway and started b-beating me up. I was just minding my own business. And I didn't want to fight back b-because.....of you. I don't know what he would do to you."
She went silent and slowly said after a pause, "Don't worry about me, kid."
She smiled like she always did.
"I know how to take care of myself. I'll get through just fine. It's good that you didn't fight back, honey. I know how strong Alex is...." she continued after a pause, "he..... probably held back."
"Mom, does this mean--"
"You know it does, honey." She interrupted as she looked at her son, almost....annoyed at the recurring question whenever this happens. Which immediately shifted into an expression of sympathy and sadness, as if it never existed.
James was perplexed. Did he just imagine that split second of irritation? Why would she be annoyed at him? Maybe he was being paranoid. Or probably a concussion. God knows Alex slaps hard. He snapped back from his thoughts.
His mom needs to fix whatever mess was made with Alex. Again. His hair raised almost instantaneously with the thought; the corners of his eyes, threatening to drip with tears.
"Maybe you don't have to, mom? Can't you just stay? Please. Please, mom."
She said firmly, "You know we can't, sweetie. The beating starts and it gets worse. If I don't do this right now, he'll keep beating you tomorrow. You don't want that, do you?"
James looked at his mother, something stuck in his throat. He doesn't even want to think about how all this started.
A phone rang in the small window of silence in their home. They both knew who it was.
"What about dad?" he asked.
His mom looked at him gently and whispered, "He doesn't have to know. Just as usual, alright?"
Dread sank under the corners of Michael's temple, drizzling down to his throat and chest as she picked the phone up.
"Hi, baaaby," she greeted in the sickeningly sweet voice she always used exclusively since the past two years when talking to his bully, Alex. He couldn't hear anything Alex said over the phone except "bitch boy," and "the nerve".
And there it was again. The strange sensation he felt while looking at his mom, chronically unable to recognize her whenever he sees her talk to Alex. As if she wasn't the woman who raised him. As if she didn't care about anything but--
James didn't want to say it.
She talked through the phone with motherly understanding, "Oh, I know. Listen--what?"
A slight pause visited the room. He couldn't hear anything but the constant static over the phone.
"Don't make me say that, baby." She said, slurring unconvincingly. Like a bitch in heat. She coyly continued in a bit, "I know it was the faggot's fault. He shouldn't have been too relaxed when he saw you. I'd have him prostrate every time he sees you, but we can't let people find out, can we? You were right to beat his pathetic little face up."
James stood there, shocked by the induced verbal thrashing.
"Thank you for disciplining my spoiled, pathetic son." She immediately mouthed 'sorry' to him and James understood. Alex made her do it. She wouldn't say that about him willingly. Yeah. She could barely lecture him all his life, let alone verbally humiliate him in any way out of her own volition.
He nodded to say it was fine--and her apologetic expression just cleanly disappeared the next second as she giggled to the phone like a high-school slut. Fuck, what was wrong with his thoughts?
"Anyway, I promise to make it up to you. Just wait and see, alright? You're on your way to pick me up? Thanks, daddy! I'll dress up real nice--with a color of your choice, as usual," she said as she listened to his next words attentively.
"Red, great. I'll get prepared. My ass? Of course! That one doesn't need preparing, baby. It's always ready for you. You know I always want to be ass-fucked 24/7 by your big, fat c--"
James couldn't listen anymore and quickly went upstairs to avoid hearing them both.
After a minute of trying to calm down, he heard his mom hang up downstairs. Followed by heavy footsteps on the stairs and her barging in my room.
"Baby, I'm so sorry. I want to comfort you and just--I'm sorry, honey. Your bruises look horrible. Shit. You should cover that up with make-up. Your dad would question it. I'm fuming with Alex right now. Believe me, I can't believe him and his extremely disrespectful.... tricks and requests. He's gonna be here any minute now. I'm sorry to ask, but can you help me prepare, sweetie?"
He agreed; she hugged him and sprinted towards her room to dress up.
James noticed her legs had falling streams of liquid, dripping down on the tiled floor she raised him to keep clean. He almost missed the detail, if not for the golden sheen of the liquid under the warm lighting.
His mom was dripping wet.
And he stood there, petrified at that realization. He heard her shout from her room, "Can you get me my red heels, honey? Thanks!"
He blankly went downstairs to open the secret box she filled with stuff Alex made her buy. Red bottoms, fishnets, slutty costumes and all kinds of sex-toys--all larger than average. James sorted through them, found her red heels and took them upstairs to her room. He knocked on her door and came in as soon as he got an 'okay'.
She was already dressed up as he entered. His mom, Lily, was in great shape even now. She didn't look a day over 30. It's always been hard to believe she's a full-fledged mom. Her creamy skin and the curves all in the right place. And she took advantage of that figure with the dress she was wearing right now--an anniversary gift his father bought her last year. He remembered because she was so happy at the time.
"Do I look great, honey?"
Great didn't begin to cover it. Lily was wearing a tight, red dress that emphasized her round-glass figure. She was just effortlessly beautiful and sexy; from her nipples that were protruding because she didn't wear a bra, to her beautiful waist which no one would believe birthed James 21 years ago. A little further down and you see her big, round ass, threatening to just burst out through the lower seams of her backless dress. She looked innocently nasty-- two contradictory terms that somehow worked perfectly to describe her. Of course, he couldn't say that to his mom.
James blushed, "You look great, mom."
"Thanks, baby," she replied as she put on red lipstick. A car-horn resounded just outside their house.
"He's here!" Lily ran downstairs right after getting the red-heels from her son's hands. James didn't want to go down. The thought of seeing Alex sent a shiver down his spine, but he had to. If not for him, then for his mom. For Lily. He followed after her.
