A boy on crutches limped over a yard to a house which he entered, a scared look in his eyes. As the door creaked slightly, he hesitated, but it already was too late. The boy's father got up from his arm chair and his tall statue straightened up in front of the boy. His handsome face showed a sardistic grin.
"So, you finally made your way home, huh?"
The boy nodded, trying not to look his father in the eyes.
"You're a disappointment! Couldn't you have stayed where you were?"
The man eyed his son up and down, his eyes squinted in disgust, as his sight reached the boy's foot.
"You freak! Little bastard!" His voice rose and turned into scratchy sounds, as he said so. The boy's eyes widened in horror, as his father's hand whizzed down to slap him.

#

#

Edward woke up in the hospital. His expression was still unclear but the pain in his chest was more or less vanished. He looked around, and as his sight cleared a little, he realized a police man standing next to his bed. Against his expectation, the man smiled.

"Good morning, Edward. How do you feel?"
Edward didn't reply. He just stared at the friendly cop.

"Well...", the man went ahead, slightly puzzled. "Uhm, we made out your pa. You can return to him, as soon as you recovered."

Again, Edward gave nothing back, but his eyes widened in shock.

"No... Not your pa?"
A slight shake of the boy's head.

"So, how about your ma? I think, your parents divorced a year ago..."

Edward gulped. "If... If it has to be...", he replied in a weak voice.

The police man smiled again. "Then, I wish you a fast recovery and a good way back home to your ma."

Edward tried, but he wasn't able to force out a smile, so he just nodded almost imperceptive.

The train ride was long and Edward felt uncomfortable at the thought that he would return home after such a long time. What will my mother say? Will she take me back the way I am? Edward stared down at his foot. It was stuck in a shoe right now, but Edward couldn't avoid getting it's picture in his mind. The ugly clubfoot that was the reason for his bad life! The disability that had cost him his childhood! Edward felt a tear crawling to the corner of his eye, but he blinked it away. He didn't want to cry, especially since he knew, it wouldn't help. He had learned it the hard way.

"Where you go, son?", an elderly woman asked, as she realized Edward's sadness.

Edward smiled at her. "Santa Paula, California..."

A concerned tone was to hear in her voice, as she said: "And you go there all on your own?"

"To visit my aunt", Edward lied. He didn't want to tell the woman anything more. But she wouldn't stop asking.

"Your parents let you go there alone? It seems to be a long way..."

"They trust me."

"And...", now her questions became more direct, "why did you almost cry?"

Edward raised an eyebrow. "If you really wanna know... My parents are about to divorce."

"Oh, you poor boy!", the woman squeaked out, but after that she kept silence. That was just what Edward's greatest talent was: to make people shut their mouths.

The train whistled and rolled into the station. Edward slowly got up and walked towards the door, jumping down off the step board when he reached it.

"Edward?", the boy heard a weak voice ask. As he turned around, he saw a sickly looking woman, who had a tear in her eye. She sure had been beautiful once, when her long, brown hair had still been glossy and her now thin and gaunted lips and cheeks had been full and healthy.
Edward's mother smiled at him and locked him in a tight embrace. "I missed you so much!"

"Uhm... Hi...", Edward gave back in a puzzled tone. He didn't know, what to do or to say, for he had never been in such a situation. And he had never wanted to be.

#

"Come on Edward! Eat something!"

The boy shook his head eagerly. "Why should I?"

"Please!", Mildred begged. "Son! You'll get sick! You haven't eaten for days!"

Edward felt anger grow inside him. "Don't call me son!" He pressed through his teeth.

Mildred didn't respond. She looked at her son, tears flooding her eyes. "I'm worried about you!"

Edward jumped up from his chair and clenched his hands into fists. "You've never worried about me when you needed to!"

"Edward, please, I..."

The boy's voice rose to a shouting. "What ever you want to say, you would change nothing!" His eyes burned, but he wouldn't be able to cry. "You've never protected me! Never!"

Tears started to run down Mildred's cheeks. Her life hadn't been easy either, but she truly regretted, that she'd never been there for her son. "Edward, please!"

"I hate you! I hate you with all my soul!" Edward stormed into his room and slammed the door as hard as he could. He burried his face in his pillow and tried to get to breath slowly again. Pain and hate flooded his body and a sudden rush made him straighten up on the bed.
His hands were still clinched into fists when he took a hard swing and slammed his hand against the wall.

"I... Hate... You!", he screamed out, not entirely sure if it was his mother, God, his father, or himself he meant. His anger flooded him again and his hand smashed against the wall a second time. "Nobody'd love me! Never will!"

A third swing...

"And nobody'll ever be loved by me!"

He fell down on the bed and digged into the mattrass. Why would nobody understand me?

Slowly he fell into an unsteady sleep.

#

"You really think, you're old enough to manage?"

Edward nodded eagerly as the car mechanic eyed him up.

"You're only eleven..."

"But tall enough!"

The man smiled. "I see... But... how about your mother? I mean, does she even know about it?"

Edward's eyes sparkeled in anger at this question, but he kept calm. "She sent me here..."

"Oh, I see", the mechanic gave back. "You think, you can handle the work?"

"Yeah, sure can!"

"Then... How about carrying those wheels inside, so you could prove, you are strong enough?"

Edward nodded, grabbed three of the wheels at once and took them into the garage.

"Yeah", the mechanic nodded. "Yeah, I guess, you'll do a fine job. How about payment?"

Edward grinned. "That's the part, I like. Maybe... Three dollars a day?"

"One!"

"Two."
Edward offered him his hand.

"Deal!", the mechanic replied, as he shook it.

#

Edward entered his house. As he sat down on the table, his mother, who had stood on the oven cooking, turned around.
"Did you get the job?"

Edward merely nodded.

"How much do you earn?"

"Two dollars a day." Edward watched his hands, while answering.

"Couldn't you have traded out more?"

Edward jumped up from his chair, his hands clenched. "Why should I do more for you? You've never done anythin' for me! There was no protection! Ever!"

He stormed to his room, leaving his mother back in the kitchen, her head in her hands and crying.
He didn't feel the least bit guilty. His mother had never been there for him when he had needed her, so why should he be there for her now?