Page 1 of Homecoming

Prologue

Ian

Fifteen years ago

“Please Mom, don’t do this,” I pleaded. I didn't know why I even bothered, she had never had any interest in me. Still, I had to try, I didn't want to be sent away. I wanted her to fight for me. It was up to her if I could stay and do my sentence here, or if she would give up her maternal rights, and I'd be the state's problem. After one look at the woman who gave birth to me, I knew it was in vain.

“I’m not doing anything, you brought this on yourself.” She flicked the butt of a burning cigarette without looking where it would land. I traced it with my eyes, ensuring it didn’t start a fire. It was the last thing this place needed. "You just had to do it, didn't you? Couldn't help yourself. I told you to stay away from that racing track. I told you to stay away from that man and his boys. But did you listen to me?" She snorted and rolled her eyes. "Of course not, mister I'm-better-than-everyone. And now look at what you've done."

The mention of my friends pushed the constant pain I kept buried deep to the surface, and I rubbed at my chest to try and take the sting out. I knew I shouldn't have done it, but who would have thought that it would turn out the way it did? I was always careful and always obeyed the rules. I thought that one night of fun wouldn't hurt anyone.

I was wrong.

So wrong.

And now I had to face the consequences.

I didn't think it would be those. I was prepared to go to juvie, or prison, just about anything, but this. I wasn’t prepared for this.

“Mom,” I tried one last time. I didn’t even know why I kept pleading with her to let me stay. It’s not like we lived in a good neighborhood, and she certainly wasn’t a good mom. A mom I would fight for. Still, I did.

We lived in a trailer park, damnit. Everywhere you looked the rusted long forgotten toys lay around, garbage in the small mounds at the corner of every trailer. Grass was yellow instead of green, and if there wasn’t yelling, there was dead silence. God, I hated that silence, nothing good came after that. All the people that lived like my mother, with grandeur in their minds, especially about themselves, but in reality, all they were were bums. And sometimes not even that. And worst of all, the kids were like little mice, jumpy, skittish, scared…

It also wasn’t like my mom was the best mom in the world. She was so far from it, it wasn’t even funny. I often wondered why she kept me when I was little, why she fought tooth and nail when social services came threatening to take me away since she wasn’t aware I existed half the time, left me to fend for myself, and was either drunk or high all the time.

It was only after I turned fourteen, and started working at the karting track whenever I could that she took notice. And it was only so she could take the money, go out, and drown in alcohol and pills until she no longer had the money, couldn’t find anyone to fleece from or get someone to fuck her in exchange for the said substances.

So, yeah, life wasn’t all that good.

And because of one stupid mistake, I couldn’t stay here anymore.

I wasn’t worthy of living even in the purgatory that was this place.

It was the only home I ever knew.

I hated almost everything about it. Everything except the fact that she was there too.

Lola.

Her situation wasn’t what mine was.

Her parents actually gave a shit. Still, she lived in a trailer park. And that was never fun.

She was three years younger than me. And, whenever things got rough at home, I found myself sitting on the steps of her trailer, my hand enveloped by her smaller one. She would either listen to me ranting or just lay her head on my shoulder.

She made me feel… cherished.

Loved.

Needed.

The bottom line was she made me feel something.

And even though I was just sixteen, and had a long road of learning ahead of me to get over the way I grew up, the way I lived my sixteen years, I knew deep down that what I had with her was rare.

Precious even.

And I dug her parents too. They were not what I was used to.