The house sat grimly under the pale light of the moon. Never a night passed when Simon felt remotely safe approaching the building he called home. His immediate thoughts always turned to; how pissed off is she today? Did she drink? How much? Are any of her boy toys over tonight? The scariest part was never knowing until it was too late.

He pushed open the door. This felt eerily familiar, he thought. Only then was he actually grateful to have forgotten his backpack in the back seat of Adrian's car. Because, if history repeated itself, she would be absolutely livid with him.

His entire body tensed when he caught his eye on a silhouette. She was frozen like a statue, though he didn't know if she'd noticed him. He stiffened when the figure came into the light.

She spoke so quickly he could hardly keep up with the words she was saying. Only when she stopped rapidly flapping her mouth did he show her the damaged hearing aids. There was really no point in telling her exactly what happened. Either she wouldn't care or she wouldn't listen anyway. The bottom line was here, that he was spending her money on 'pointless' things.

Her fist clenched the small plastic aids. This time he could see the seething anger in her. How many hearing aids did that make it, now? Four or five? Far too many, that was for sure.

She threw it at him. The plastic bounced off his head and landed on the floor. Her long fingernails dug into his cheeks as she forced his eyes to look at her face. "You think I'm getting you another one?" She asked. "Fuck you."

"I'm sorry." Was all he could really think to say. What else was there to add? He really was sorry.

She let out a laugh, breathing a sweet, familiar smell into his face. He wondered how drunk she was. Her eyes were red as if she'd been crying. Perhaps she had just started.

"I told you if you made me look bad I'd fucking kill you." She rocked side to side. "I'll FUCKING KILL YOU!"

He stepped back from her, but her sharp fingers released his face and dug deeply into his forearms. He would have cried out, but he clenched his jaw shut.

She kicked him to the ground. "Just DIE already! God fucking damn it!" She screamed out in painful agony as she stood above the boy. Her body was shaking. Her heart thumping, and her face flooded with tears from years of torture. Simon curled up, covering his head from each of her punches. With each punch, her strength grew weaker, until she was panting on the ground on top of him.

She reached her hands to her face, clawing at her own skin. Fresh blood mixed with the tears. She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes, screaming with her head rested against her son's shoulder.

He sat up, holding his mother against his chest as she shook and screamed, her chest vibrating broken vocal cords against him. There were so many complexities in the world. He thought he knew them best by simply being her son. If there was one thing he learned in life, it was the perception of reality. Sure, on the surface, it may have appeared like she was the one abusing him. With her begging cries for him to die, the beatings he got from her, and the psychological abuse she inflicted. But he knew why. He'd been told since even before he could understand those words.

It was a reason he hadn't fully understand. Not as he played with toys as a toddler, smiling gleefully with his grandma and grandpa, aunt's and uncle's, while his mother sat alone from the group in a chair. Her legs pressed against her chest as she stared longingly out the window towards a hopeful future she knew was foolish to believe in. Even as he approached her with his blocks in hand, hoping that his mommy would play with him, she ignored him. He hadn't quite known why.

At the time it all just seemed unfair.

Alice finally stopped shaking. She was always her calmest once she was sleeping. He sighed, pushing her limp body off of him and got up. He took one step forward, then stopped. His eyes turned to the floor where his mother lay resting.

He sighed, leaning down to pick her up in his arms.

Even if he hadn't figured out why when he was little, he certainly knew now.

He pushed himself to move forward, his muscles screamed in pain, but he set her down gently in her bed. He pulled the covers over her, as well, taking a seat at her bedside to watch her puffy red eyes.

How long had she been crying for the past, this time - he wondered.

"I'm sorry." He spoke again.

He knew why. He’d known for a long time now. Why she wished for nothing more than for him to die a long, painful, agonizing death. Why she hated him more than anything in the world. Why how, every time he wanted to play with her, she would ignore him. Why she would look out the window into the free world from her cage.

The answer was simple.

He was her punishment.