PART 3
The only thing between the little boy and the
thunder was the cracked window. The dormer still had his blood from when his
uncle was forceful and rape him against it, how can he forget? Did he? All that
was in his mind that time was the sound of his empty belly, I can’t think of
the last time he ate. Wow! I recall now, that was three days ago when his uncle
lockdown him because he was about to tell. The little man didn’t have it in him
to clean the closet, the ghosts, and the webs in his psyche were partying with
his self-esteem to its last breath. The bricks layered by our fears and pains
harden with time to create an empty soul too hard to fill. Little Tom couldn't
even go to school, and I guess that's what you get when your depressed mother
and alcoholic father die, no one seems to care. Seasons past but every day was
the same for him, he was still the chef, cleaner, and washing machine to his
uncle's whole family. The cousins were informed Tom was not even a close
relative. “He is just a lost miserably an orphan,” the uncle said proudly, I
presume his goal was to make his offspring not feel sorry and just join the
party.
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