My Boy Alexei
4/1/05 11:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roxyI know posting on the week end is pretty much like throwing your stuff into the wind, but what the heck! It's obvious I don't do this for the feedback alone, God knows. Even if it is like crack--mmm! feeeeeeedback...and donuts...best thing ever.
Oh, and sex. Well, okay--first sex, then feedback and then donuts--no, no, wait! Sex, then coffee, then feedback, then donuts. Unless they're cream filled, in which case donuts before coffee. God--if you could only have coffee and donuts whilst having sex...
*koff* Okee-dokee--pay no attention to the rambling of an obviously insane woman. Fic?
Alexei ran down the steps and into the alleyway. He ran through the archway that opened onto the next road and dashed into a small dark alcove and held his breath. An instant later a group of howling boys dashed past, out for his blood. He waited until he was certain they were well past and took off back the way he’d run, jiggling the money in his pockets and laughing to himself.
Idiots they were for not looking out—they deserved to have their pockets picked.
He strolled into the street where their room was, walking wordlessly past the women glaring at him as they swept their steps, past the children he did not play with, past men whose eyes would not meet his in the daylight and walked up to his own cleanly swept step, and opened the door.
He was feeling cocky. He had some buns and apples and there was no doubt she was going to be happy to see him. She always was when he had something in hand. He pushed open the door and frowned when the chill of the place struck him. There was coal and she should have set the stove going. She was probably sleeping.
“Mama,” he called out. “Are you sleeping? Wake up, I brought food.” He lit a fire in the stove, set the kettle on and pulled a chair over to the table.
He sliced up the apples and put them on a plate along with the buns and set her cup out. He glanced out the window, it was getting dark, and she was still sleeping. Today was a day that Uncle visited; maybe he should just let her sleep. His stomach tightened as he thought of Uncle. He was good to them and he was grateful. He was grateful to Uncle.
He sat at the table and waited for the kettle to boil and felt the warmth beginning to take the chill off the tiny room. Behind the curtain she slept, and Alexei sat, his mind empty as he muttered a song over and over to himself. He rarely sat quietly; he sang or talked non-stop to himself, muttering away until his mother demanded silence.
Uncle liked that he talked but liked that he cried better. He would make him cry, and his mother would pull the curtain shut and always tendrils of smoke would curl over the top of the frayed velvet, after a time the sweet smell and the pain had became one in his mind. And soon, the pain wasn’t even pain anymore, but he continued to cry, he knew what made the Uncle happy was good for them all.
He came back to himself, and realized the water was boiling, and she had yet to come and see what he had.
He went back behind the curtain and looked down at his mother. She was wrapped in the blanket, still and unmoving. “Mama.”
She didn’t react. He crouched down and shook her shoulder. “Mama. Come eat.” He shook her again, and suddenly yanked his hand away.
He stood and backed away from the stiff form huddled on the mattress. She was dead. He backed into the curtain, pulling it open as he moved away, moving until he was flat against the wall.
He was…confused. Frightened. What was he going to do? What happened next?
It was well past dusk when Uncle came into the room, blocking the last of the light as he stood in the doorway. Alexei looked up at him from his chair at the table, his face lit by a flickering candle. Uncle walked in, a bag in his hand. “Is your mother asleep?” He smirked and set the bag on the table before running his hand across Alexei’s head and across his mouth.
Alexei leaned back away from the hand and shrugged. “Dead.”
“What?” He jumped back and stared at Alexei, disbelief plain on his face before shaking his head. “Can’t be.” He walked behind the curtain.
Alexei heard mumbling and footsteps and then a startled yelp. “Damn! She *is* dead!”
He came back out looking at Alexei in shock. After a moment he seemed to come back to himself. “What have you got there?”
Alexei looked down at his little bundle of things. “I’m going with you…” his head bounced off the wall and his ears rang as the man slapped him hard. “Don’t be idiotic, you can’t come with me, you little whore. As if I’d bring you into my home.”
He buttoned his jacket and snatched the bag from the table. “Call the police, they’ll take you somewhere, some place they keep children like you.”
He turned without a backward look and walked out the door. Alexei stared after him, broken open and empty. There went the man who destroyed his world, hollowed him out and turned him into this and now left him alone with nothing.
Alexei stood on the doorstep in a daze until a neighbor finally noticed him and came into the little room. The screech broke through the black fog that had descended on him—he looked at his little bundle on the step next to him; he left it there and bolted down the alleyway.
He ran full out through the streets until he was desperate for air, and dropped down on the cobbles in the marketplace trying to disappear behind a stall.
“Well, well, well, what’s this? Don’t we recognize this boy, fellows? “ A foot came out and caught him in the ribs, he scrambled to his feet and tried to run from the group of boys surrounding him.
“Hah, little pickpocket.” A scruffy, long haired boy, obviously the leader of the little gang yelled out after him, “Don’t run pickpocket, it’ll just make it worse when we catch you!”
The boys ran after, cornering him in a side street. People looked over idly as they dragged Alexei deeper into the side road. They threw him on the ground and he lay there breathing hard, trying his best to look fierce.
The leader of the gang laughed. “Let’s teach this little mutt a lesson,” he grinned.
He fought back as hard as he could, but he was overwhelmed, the only thing he was aware of was his body rocking violently as they kicked him and punched him and kicked him over and over. It was becoming more difficult to breath, and he began to realize that this might kill him. He started to laugh, little wheezing huffs that barely cleared his lips and suddenly everything stopped—he was motionless, and the boys were yelling, shouting, one boy hit the sidewalk hard and their eyes met briefly before Alexei closed his.
Next thing he was aware of, his head was being shaken back and forth, a hand clenched the collar of his jacket tightly and pulled him up from the sidewalk.
“Hi--you little shit, can you walk? Are you going to die?”
Alexei did his best to kick his new tormentor, and the boy laughed.
“Good, let’s see what I can do with you. I must be crazy—another mouth to feed.”
He was dragged along by his jacket collar and he stumbled and trotted to keep up, his head spinning and pounding, his stomach contracting in waves. He struggled not to vomit and concentrated on keeping up, keeping his eyes trained on his feet, and for a long time it seemed all he saw was his feet stumbling and running over the cobbles under them, he was grateful enough to offer up a prayer of thanks when they finally stopped. He stood with his head down spit and blood drooling from his mouth, his ribs were aching and he tried to catch his breath. Alexei lifted his eyes and saw his savior.
“So, puppy, you live! Curse me for taking in a stray, but something tells me you have a lot of heart.” The boy looked to be older then him, and very handsome, with his wild black hair and gray eyes. He smiled and his teeth were so white and he looked as if he were sharing a joke with Alexei.
His mother was dead in their room and he was alive only because this boy saved him. He looked closer and saw something in the gray eyes, comfortable and familiar, something he understood. He smiled back through split lips.
“My name is Viktor,” said the boy. “ Do you have a name, little puppy?”
Alexei nodded but remained silent and Viktor grinned. “Good. Come, we need to find a place to sleep. A place to wash you up too, I think under all that dirt and blood, you’re rather more than not ugly.” He reached out and rubbed at the dirt on Alexei’s bare scalp. “Hmm. What happened to you, puppy? You have some stories to tell, don’t you? Well, I like to listen to a good story, you can tell me everything.”
Oh, and sex. Well, okay--first sex, then feedback and then donuts--no, no, wait! Sex, then coffee, then feedback, then donuts. Unless they're cream filled, in which case donuts before coffee. God--if you could only have coffee and donuts whilst having sex...
*koff* Okee-dokee--pay no attention to the rambling of an obviously insane woman. Fic?
Alexei ran down the steps and into the alleyway. He ran through the archway that opened onto the next road and dashed into a small dark alcove and held his breath. An instant later a group of howling boys dashed past, out for his blood. He waited until he was certain they were well past and took off back the way he’d run, jiggling the money in his pockets and laughing to himself.
Idiots they were for not looking out—they deserved to have their pockets picked.
He strolled into the street where their room was, walking wordlessly past the women glaring at him as they swept their steps, past the children he did not play with, past men whose eyes would not meet his in the daylight and walked up to his own cleanly swept step, and opened the door.
He was feeling cocky. He had some buns and apples and there was no doubt she was going to be happy to see him. She always was when he had something in hand. He pushed open the door and frowned when the chill of the place struck him. There was coal and she should have set the stove going. She was probably sleeping.
“Mama,” he called out. “Are you sleeping? Wake up, I brought food.” He lit a fire in the stove, set the kettle on and pulled a chair over to the table.
He sliced up the apples and put them on a plate along with the buns and set her cup out. He glanced out the window, it was getting dark, and she was still sleeping. Today was a day that Uncle visited; maybe he should just let her sleep. His stomach tightened as he thought of Uncle. He was good to them and he was grateful. He was grateful to Uncle.
He sat at the table and waited for the kettle to boil and felt the warmth beginning to take the chill off the tiny room. Behind the curtain she slept, and Alexei sat, his mind empty as he muttered a song over and over to himself. He rarely sat quietly; he sang or talked non-stop to himself, muttering away until his mother demanded silence.
Uncle liked that he talked but liked that he cried better. He would make him cry, and his mother would pull the curtain shut and always tendrils of smoke would curl over the top of the frayed velvet, after a time the sweet smell and the pain had became one in his mind. And soon, the pain wasn’t even pain anymore, but he continued to cry, he knew what made the Uncle happy was good for them all.
He came back to himself, and realized the water was boiling, and she had yet to come and see what he had.
He went back behind the curtain and looked down at his mother. She was wrapped in the blanket, still and unmoving. “Mama.”
She didn’t react. He crouched down and shook her shoulder. “Mama. Come eat.” He shook her again, and suddenly yanked his hand away.
He stood and backed away from the stiff form huddled on the mattress. She was dead. He backed into the curtain, pulling it open as he moved away, moving until he was flat against the wall.
He was…confused. Frightened. What was he going to do? What happened next?
It was well past dusk when Uncle came into the room, blocking the last of the light as he stood in the doorway. Alexei looked up at him from his chair at the table, his face lit by a flickering candle. Uncle walked in, a bag in his hand. “Is your mother asleep?” He smirked and set the bag on the table before running his hand across Alexei’s head and across his mouth.
Alexei leaned back away from the hand and shrugged. “Dead.”
“What?” He jumped back and stared at Alexei, disbelief plain on his face before shaking his head. “Can’t be.” He walked behind the curtain.
Alexei heard mumbling and footsteps and then a startled yelp. “Damn! She *is* dead!”
He came back out looking at Alexei in shock. After a moment he seemed to come back to himself. “What have you got there?”
Alexei looked down at his little bundle of things. “I’m going with you…” his head bounced off the wall and his ears rang as the man slapped him hard. “Don’t be idiotic, you can’t come with me, you little whore. As if I’d bring you into my home.”
He buttoned his jacket and snatched the bag from the table. “Call the police, they’ll take you somewhere, some place they keep children like you.”
He turned without a backward look and walked out the door. Alexei stared after him, broken open and empty. There went the man who destroyed his world, hollowed him out and turned him into this and now left him alone with nothing.
Alexei stood on the doorstep in a daze until a neighbor finally noticed him and came into the little room. The screech broke through the black fog that had descended on him—he looked at his little bundle on the step next to him; he left it there and bolted down the alleyway.
He ran full out through the streets until he was desperate for air, and dropped down on the cobbles in the marketplace trying to disappear behind a stall.
“Well, well, well, what’s this? Don’t we recognize this boy, fellows? “ A foot came out and caught him in the ribs, he scrambled to his feet and tried to run from the group of boys surrounding him.
“Hah, little pickpocket.” A scruffy, long haired boy, obviously the leader of the little gang yelled out after him, “Don’t run pickpocket, it’ll just make it worse when we catch you!”
The boys ran after, cornering him in a side street. People looked over idly as they dragged Alexei deeper into the side road. They threw him on the ground and he lay there breathing hard, trying his best to look fierce.
The leader of the gang laughed. “Let’s teach this little mutt a lesson,” he grinned.
He fought back as hard as he could, but he was overwhelmed, the only thing he was aware of was his body rocking violently as they kicked him and punched him and kicked him over and over. It was becoming more difficult to breath, and he began to realize that this might kill him. He started to laugh, little wheezing huffs that barely cleared his lips and suddenly everything stopped—he was motionless, and the boys were yelling, shouting, one boy hit the sidewalk hard and their eyes met briefly before Alexei closed his.
Next thing he was aware of, his head was being shaken back and forth, a hand clenched the collar of his jacket tightly and pulled him up from the sidewalk.
“Hi--you little shit, can you walk? Are you going to die?”
Alexei did his best to kick his new tormentor, and the boy laughed.
“Good, let’s see what I can do with you. I must be crazy—another mouth to feed.”
He was dragged along by his jacket collar and he stumbled and trotted to keep up, his head spinning and pounding, his stomach contracting in waves. He struggled not to vomit and concentrated on keeping up, keeping his eyes trained on his feet, and for a long time it seemed all he saw was his feet stumbling and running over the cobbles under them, he was grateful enough to offer up a prayer of thanks when they finally stopped. He stood with his head down spit and blood drooling from his mouth, his ribs were aching and he tried to catch his breath. Alexei lifted his eyes and saw his savior.
“So, puppy, you live! Curse me for taking in a stray, but something tells me you have a lot of heart.” The boy looked to be older then him, and very handsome, with his wild black hair and gray eyes. He smiled and his teeth were so white and he looked as if he were sharing a joke with Alexei.
His mother was dead in their room and he was alive only because this boy saved him. He looked closer and saw something in the gray eyes, comfortable and familiar, something he understood. He smiled back through split lips.
“My name is Viktor,” said the boy. “ Do you have a name, little puppy?”
Alexei nodded but remained silent and Viktor grinned. “Good. Come, we need to find a place to sleep. A place to wash you up too, I think under all that dirt and blood, you’re rather more than not ugly.” He reached out and rubbed at the dirt on Alexei’s bare scalp. “Hmm. What happened to you, puppy? You have some stories to tell, don’t you? Well, I like to listen to a good story, you can tell me everything.”
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4/2/05 05:07 pm (UTC)I agee--the kid spent all day in that room, and mostly drank tea and waited for the jerk to show up. Very big creepy. I kind of creeped myself out, can you tell? *shiver*