We walk through the swinging doors of the street food shack and I'm hit instantly by the warm cooking air infused with aromatic smells and spices. The chefs behind the counter are shouting orders to one another, and the main long table in the centre of the shack is overflowing with middle-aged men watching the TV to the right of us.

"Let's take the window seats." Dean points to a row of high chair seats along a window, and we all gravitate in that direction. I take a seat with Joe on my left and Macks on my right. I notice Joe's intertwined hands are shaking frantically, and I suddenly pity him. He probably needed another hit.

"Whatever you guys order, order one for me too." Macks calls out from the end of the table as the three boys beside me crowd over a menu.

"Maybe we should just order the platter. It's more value for money rather than buying individual meals." AJ suggests

"Sure." Dean agrees "It says here it includes three loaded burritos, three quesadillas, half a jerk spiced chicken and some Jamaican beers. All for 20.99." He reads off the menu

I can sense the boys salivating at the sound of all the foods. I too am also looking forward to it. I haven't eaten a good meal in days.

"Aw man that sounds like some good grub." Joe says what we're all thinking.

"So, I'm assuming we're sharing the costs?" Dean asks

The rest of us exchange tense glances.

"Sorry I- I left my wallet at home." AJ shrugs, obviously a blatant lie.

"Same here. I don't carry cash on me usually." continues Joe

I look at Dean and don't even need to say anything for him to know that I also won't be paying.

"Well, that's what you get when you ask a load of unemployed fuckers to pay for something." Macks laughs "Here," He pulls out a ten "We'll just split it between us."

"Right then." Dean takes the note off Macks "I'll go place our order." He gets up and walks over to the counter where a woman wearing an apron stands talking to another man.

"I like your watch." Macks says out of the blue, and I look down at the silver watch adorning my wrist "You don't see many these days."

"Yeah, it was my dad's." I say, feeling a stinging in my chest. I'm suddenly reminded of how much I missed him.

"Was?"

"Yeah, he err... He died when I was ten. HoverCar accident"

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"Thanks. It's ok." Even though it's ben nearly eight years, I still have days where I miss him so much I break down crying. He was everything to me. Wearing his watch helps me have a piece of him wherever I go.

"It's actually the only way I can know the time these days. I sold my microchip a while back."

"Really? I didn't even think doctors we're allowed to do that anymore."

"They're not. I did it illegally."

"Right..." He frowns rather disapprovingly

"Don't give me that look, you're the drug dealer."

"Ok, ok, fair enough. At the end of the day, we both do what we do for money."

"Sure, fine. Whatever." I didn't like the idea that this guy I'd barely met felt like he'd had me all figured out. Because he didn't. Nobody did. Then again I should try and keep myself open.

My eyes widen when I see Dean returning with an array of food in both arms.

"Dinner is served, ladies." He jokes in a posh woman accent.

We all descend on the food, all table manners flying out of the window. I take my helping which consists of half a burrito, a whole quesadilla and the part of the chicken that I felt looked the most spiced. My taste-buds were in heaven.

Once we were all done and rightly stuffed, AJ and Joe leave first, telling us that they needed to finish repairing a van at AJ's uncle's garage. Then Dean leaves but without giving a reason, not that he had to I guess. That left me and... Macks.

"So.... doing anything... now?" Macks turns to me and asks

Mother's body. Mother's body. My Mother's body is literally lying on her bed at home.

"Nope."

"Wanna see something cool?" He says eagerly. I hesitate. What the hell was he planning?

"Uhh, sure I guess. As long as it doesn't get me killed or anything."

"No, no. Trust me, it's nothing like that."

"C'mon, let's go."

He starts clearing the plastic plates and cutlery scattered across the bench and brings them over to the bin. I follow behind him, but as I get up I feel another sharp pain in my side. The pain was easy to manage before, but it's starting to get worse again. I needed some pain meds.

We exit the food shack and I continue following him behind the building and through some bushes. The deeper we got into the woods the more anxious I became.

What if Macks was secretly a psychopath and he was leading me to the woods to kill me? And then he was planning to bury the body? But no, that wouldn't be smart. Macks is the last person I'd been seen with, he would be the number one suspect. Unless he hadn't thought about that.

"I'm not leading you here to kill you, if that's what you're thinking." Macks glances back, literally reading my mind. How could he possibly-? How-?

"Ok. Here we are." I stand beside him and look around expectantly.

"What am I suppose to be..." I begin, but trail off once I see the masterpiece in front of me. A large oak tree has been intricately carved with various patterns, images and words. The more I look at the piece of art, the more I see. It's truly breath-taking, which is an ironic statement considering this day and age. When I come closer and read the words, I read "freedom", "justice for the dead." and something that immediately shocks me.

Free to breathe, free to live.

"You're part of the rebellion?" I blurt out.

"You're part of the rebellion?" He repeats, equally shocked

"My parents were members." We say in unison.

Who is this person and why am I only meeting him now?

I stare at his beautiful face once again. God, help me.

"Wow. I didn't expect you to be part of something like that." Macks says.

"Oh, well, like I said. It was all my parents, really. I never got a chance to... join myself."

"Right..." He nods "Same, I guess. I only met Lux a few weeks ago."

"And this, Macks." I point to the tree "This is absolutely extraordinary."

He blushes "Thanks. This is what I do when I'm not working or dealing drugs. It's quite therapeutic actually, takes my mind off things."

I smile at him. I of all people understand the value of a distraction.

"Well, look at the time." I glance dramatically at my watch, a reference to his compliment earlier "I better be heading home." It was 4 o'clock. I needed to deal with Mother's body before the boys came back to mine later.

"Well, I could come with you..." I knew instantly what he meant. Men *eye roll*.

Says you, I think You tried to use sex as a means for persuasion.

"No. I need to go and do, something... on my own."

"But-"

"No, Macks. Sorry. I'll see you later."

I leave the woods and don't look back, some part of me annoyed at a missed opportunity.

***

I unlock my front door nervously, scared of facing my Mother after not seeing her for the past two days. As I inch open the door, I can already smell a foul smell. That's what you get when you keep a body in your house for nearly a week. It's psycho, I know. But I didn't know how else to deal with it. I just wasn't ready, until now.

I walk up the wooden stairs which send creaks echoing through the house with each step I take. Then I turn the corner at the banister, and it's there. Her bedroom.

My legs suddenly feel like jelly. I feel emotions I can't describe.

Just get it over and done with. My subconscious urges me.

I stride to her door and open it. The smell is repulsive, but I manage to keep myself from throwing up. The air in her room is stagnant and old, made worse by the stuffiness caused by the closed windows that I'd forgotten to open. Luckily I hadn't forgotten to cover her with a sheet, so I wasn't confronted by the lifeless expression on her face.

I eyed the ironing board propped against her wardrobe, and got to work. Sliding her body onto the board. Using it to get her body down the stairs. Opening the backdoor to the garden. Digging the rectangular hole, which took a good hour to make sure it was deep enough. Placing her body there with as much caution as I could manage. Then, finally, covering her in soil.

It's only when I finish that I realise my face is streaming with tears. I'm crying so hard I can barely breathe.

It's so fucked up, having to bury your own mother. So fucked up.

But when I've got myself together, I say these final words.

"Goodbye, Mother."