How Lewis got his scar (Any feedback much appreciated)

Holden Blake

The small scar under Lewis’s left eye was a painful reminder of the consequences of his mother’s addiction. He remembered the day as though it were yesterday, he was just eight years old and already having to deal with his mother and her self inflicted drug abuse. Almost every night he would hear her crying from behind the bathroom door having just come down off another trip. Other days he wasn't so lucky and instead of crying she would lash out in spontaneous fits of anger, smashing up plates, trashing their home, tearing at her skin and screaming throughout what could only be described as a suffocating panic. Lewis knew better than to disturb her when she was like this. Most of the time he was thrown out to play or else he just stayed in his room, he didn't have a stereo so he usually hummed tunes in his head to drown out the terrifying sounds of his mother's extreme behaviour. He could not work out why she was so different from other mums, though he guessed it had something to do with loosing Holly. One thing however that he did know for sure was that her so-called ‘medicine’ was not helping her get any better.

He soon came to realize that the medicine she seemed to need so badly was the very thing that had been making her worse. This new understanding came to surface one day when she suddenly broke down right in front of him. Usually he would have been sent out into the street until she could compose herself, but this time his mother was suffering from a different kind of trip. Lewis was surprised when he saw her approach in floods of tears and even more surprised when she began hugging him intensely, whispering in a cracked voice that she was so sorry for being a bad mother and that it was not her fault, that it was the pills that were making her this way.

So one morning not long after, when his mother had left him alone to go visit a friend, Lewis decided he was going to help her. He knew she kept her pills in her bedroom because that’s where she went every time she told him she was going to take her medicine. Lewis had rarely been in his mother’s bedroom, unlike most children he did not go there to seek comfort after a nightmare. His mother had made it very clear to him that at night he was forbidden to leave his bed. As he stepped into the small and unfamiliar room he began to look around for anything that resembled the type of substance an eight year old would define as 'medicine'. He tried to remember the sorts of things he had taken when he himself was ill. Thinking along the lines of cough bottles and lemon sips he was surprised by what he found when finally uncovered his mother’s dugs in the bottom drawer of her dresser.

A bunch of Needles, at least ten, along with a bag of white powder and few bottles of pills. Lewis had seen pills and needles before and although he wasn't sure what on earth the bag of sugar was for he could tell that, all in all, this wasn't a good sign.
'She must be really be ill,’ he thought fearfully noting the size and scariness some of the needles. He took in a small gulp of air before scooping the needles into the plastic bag he had brought with him, then did same with the bag of powder and the bottles of pills until his mother’s drawer was completely empty, apart from the purple shawl that had been covering the items on first appearance. When he was finished he closed he drawer and then tied the bag over. Taking one last look around the room to make sure nothing else was left out of place, he exited with the bag in hand feeling slightly apprehensive.

Holden Blake

Moments later he was on all fours as he dug with his hands a small hole beneath one of the hedges in his back yard. As he continued to shift the dirt he couldn't help but grow nervous about how his mother would react once she realised her drugs were missing. He knew how much his mother hated him touching her stuff and guessed that she would probably get quite annoyed about this. But as he deposited the bag into the whole and began covering it over with soil and leaves, he knew he was doing the right thing. Even though she had never really given him good reason to, Lewis loved his mother and couldn't stand to see her suffer like this. He wanted so desperately to see an end to their many problems and so he tried to help her in he only way he could think how. Once he was convinced the area he had covered looked innocent enough, he stood up and dusted his hands off before promptly returning back indoors. His mother would be back soon and he needed to clear away the breakfast dishes.

Patricia Barker returned home a little later than expected that day. Apart from looking slightly paler than when she had left she seemed to be in quite a good mood as she walked through the front door with her car keys in hand carrying a brown parcel under her arm. She even gave her son a pleasant smile as she entered the kitchen and placed the parcel high up in one of the cupboards. Lewis hoped that perhaps her good mood would allow the day to carry on as normal, maybe she'd even forget about going upstairs and instead cook him some lunch. But then she came over and gave him a wink as she ruffed up his hair, a gesture Lewis had experienced too many times not to know what it meant, she was about to go take her medicine. The young boy let out a small sigh as his mother left the room, she'd only just got in the door and already she was off for a fix, he knew that lunch had been wishful thinking. Once she disappeared into her bedroom Lewis prepared himself for the worst. Suddenly he heard a loud bang coming from his mother’s bedroom that could only have been made by her anger as she bashed the drawer shut having found it's contents empty.

‘LEWIS!’ she bellowed as she surged down the stairs and into the kitchen, roaring a barely coherent string of aggressive curses as she did so. Lewis had stopped colouring as soon as he had heard the bang from upstairs. He didn't even have time to deny his doings when his mother grabbed him roughly by the arm and yanked him off his chair, forcing him to stand. His mother was so very angry that he knew there was no point now in trying to deny what he had done. She had reacted a lot worse than he'd been expecting but even still he was determined not to let her have them back.

‘Where are they you stupid little bastard?’ she screamed, her pale face was now sweaty and shaking with fury.

‘I-I don't know, I haven't got them,’ he stammered trying desperately not to buckle under the pressure. Her grip on his arm was so tight he could feel the top of the car keys squashing painfully against his left wrist.
SLAP.
She hit him hard across the face with her free hand. ‘Don't you play dumb with me! 'You took my medicine and I need it back now!’

‘Mummy please I don't know where it is!’ he pleaded in a frantic voice, now on the verge of tears.

He hadn't been prepared for this, his mother had never hit him like that before and judging by her frustration he was pretty sure it would not end there.

SLAP. This time it was even harder

‘YOU TELL BETTER TELL ME NOW GODDAMN IT! LEWIS I'M WARNING YOU!’

Lewis was now prettified, he'd never seen her look so angry in all his life.

'I...I can't mummy they're hurting you,’ he cried desperately, the right side of his face still throbbing with pain.

Despite Lewis' obvious intention of having her best interests at heart, this information only seemed to make Patricia grow even more livid.
She seized her son's shoulders and pulled them even closer to hers as she bent down so that they're faces were almost touching.

‘Now you listen to me Lewis,’ her voice was trembling with fury
‘I need that stuff back you have no ****ing idea how important that stuff is and if you refuse to tell me one more time (she raised her hand) I swear to…-

‘It’s, it's under the hedges,’ he blurted, out unable to endure any more of his mothers vicious wrath. He felt her firm grip loosen on his shoulders as she stood up looking visibly strained.

‘I buried it out in the yard, mum I'm really sorry I-I only wanted you to’-
But he was cut off by his mother’s sour reaction.
‘Buried it, you ****ing buried?!’ she choked out in almost a whisper, all of a sudden she seemed to hyperventilate as her entire face contorted in a look of sheer revulsion.

'I'm sorry mummy but you told me they were hurt-'

'Which hedge?' she spat through gritted teeth.

'I- I..' he stalled frantically, wanting so hard to resist telling her the answer.

'Which hedge?' she spat spat again, this time even more menacingly

Lewis began to cry, for although he was still very scared he now seemed more disgusted at what she was making him do than anything else.

'Mummy..please..'

'WHICH ****ING HEDGE LEWIS?'

'The third one you ****er!' he screamed so hard that his lungs hurt.

His outburst surprised even himself for he had never even shouted at his mother before, let alone curse at her.
He watched as she took a step back looking rather astounded, then face began to shake and that's when he knew he was really in for it.

Forgetting everything, even the fact that she was still holding her car keys, she delivered her son a third and final slap across the face, only time she used her right hand. The edge of the key instantly dug deep into the flesh under Lewis’s left eye but she appeared not to have noted this as she violently pushed him aside and scrambled to the back door. Once in the yard she fell to her knees in what was vastly becoming a pathetic sight as she clawed away at the earth under the hedge bush like a dog until she finally withdrew her precious package.

Once the package was safely back in her clutches, Patricia Barker smiled and exhaled deeply as her thoughts slowly began to subside from erratic back to rational.
Composing her self slightly, for fear of suspicious neighbours, she quickly returned to the house. Once she was back inside she sat the dirt-covered package down on the table and then turned to her son, fuelled and ready to give him a thorough telling off about the importance of staying out of her room.
It was only then that she noticed, much to her horror, the full extent of what she had actually done in her blind rage. The only she was able to do when she saw him was gasp at the sight of the fresh tears and blood she had dripping down the eight year olds face.

So when Janey Webber asked him one day how the now sixteen year old Lewis Barker got his scar, she never once saw the flash of shame pierce his eyes for he simply smiled at her and gave her the answer he knew she was expecting,

'Fighting.'

Idgeitman

Hey, thats really damn good!. The second post I feel is slightly more descriptive and paints a slightly better picture then the first. But over all its really good. If thats a section out of a longer story along the same descriptive lines and feelings, you'd be onto a winner.


- Idgeitman

shiv

You've managed to capture the fear and attitude of the child's point of view quite well. I like the matter-of-fact-ending.

Matt Holck

This story has encasulated itself
it stands on its own

Beetlebum

Fair play to ya Holden. That's a really well written piece. I like your straight forward stlye of writing and how you've captured the intensity of emotion without being unnecessarily descriptive. The ending packs a punch too.

GentleReader

What are you trying to say?
What is the sub-text?

U make strange observations, Your writing style needs some restraint, you are like Jesus, occasionally everywhere.
I am not flaming you or anything like that, far, far from it. But if we both accept it as a well-written piece, and from there, could I suggest work on making the narrative, or perhaps the narrator more believable. Holden caulfield is believable because in his world, you can see the world through his eyes. This is a pivotal moment in life, and yet there is no illumination as to what the protagonists motivation is. It seems the narrative thrust of the story just slowly fades away. The conclusion is of course hard-hitting, but no need to spell it out. Focus on this conclusion. What did you really want to say in the conclusion?
Write a bit of it in the first person. Try your characters on. Put them in your head to put them in ours.