Book I: Supernova

from the upcoming collection of short stories “DEADICATION” by Abadawn Sims

Timmy wanted to be a ROCK STAR. Ever since a toddler, his father would style his hair into a Mohawk while blaring The Minutemen and chain smoking cigarettes in their wood-rot mobile home. His father was his idol. He carried himself like no other person Timmy had ever seen on TV or at the market. His dad was a rebel, with a pissed off face and little care left for the world, he didn’t seem to have much care left for mother either. It seemed the only people that matched his look were the yelping out of tune voices that came out of the record player on those evenings they spent together. Although it was more like the evenings Timmy sat near and observed as his dad swilled tall-cans of liquid he wasn’t allowed to; nodding his head and singing along with the noise, often falling asleep on his hand me down Lazy-boy recliner without giving any recognition to his son staring from the corner.

The scent of spaghetti (again) filled the pseudo home one evening as mom dripped sweat into a bowling pot and Timmy played with his younger brother on the cat-shit stained kitchen floor. “Timmy let go of Lucas and go get your father!” mom screeched over the beeping microwave signaling the tomato sauce was luke-warm. “I said GO!” with no time-delayed Timmy dropped his brother who sprawled across the floor wailing as he shot out the back door as his mother barked remarks and words he wasn’t too familiar with.

In the back of the house was a shed that Timmy was never allowed in. His father always kept the doors locked, windows blocked and extra precaution was taken so that nobody entered. There was however a doorbell installed, and in routine for years now he would hit the buzzer and minutes later out would come his father barreling in sweat and anxious wonderment with questions of the current situation that called upon him. Only this time wasn’t so routine.

As the ten year old Timmy approached the shed and extended his arm to prod his little index finger at the bell there was an eruption. The child’s body was crumpled by an explosion that sent chemical clouds gushing out of the windows and roof as the wood was practically torn from its shingles and nails. Boards went flying and dust suddenly took the atmosphere as the white plumes of smoke grew with the flames that reached outward. As Timmy’s consciousness faded into reality he found himself several meters from where he once stood. Mother burst out of the back door with little Lucas in hand letting out a shrill scream at a pitch; high and resonating, almost never ending.

The EMT, the Firemen, the Police and reporters all swarmed the property. Timmy was examined, taken to the ambulance and whisked away from the scene. He didn’t question anyone of anything. Never asked if he’d ever see his mother or brother again, nor did he attempt to make sense of where his dad was and what destroyed the shed; he just went. He was too exhausted to fight, and too young to realize what had just happened.

The next day he was in the hospital eating a breakfast of scrambled eggs, toast and apple slices when two people he had never seen before entered his room. “Hey Timmy, how are you feeling today?” the plump black woman asked him. He felt obligated to answer based on the fact she appeared more reassuring than the tall and stern gray-haired man beside her. “I am okay, I want to go home now.” He said ignoring the pain from his broken collar bone and left wrist. Then the baritone voiced man he didn’t want to hear from replied with “It’s a little more complicated than that son.” While giving a smug look that should have been concern but was all too hollow. They asked Timmy further questions, delving deeper into what happened at his home. What did mommy and daddy do? What did him and his brother eat? What kind of friends did dad have? How often did mom hit Timmy and Lucas? He answered all of their questions honestly and to his best knowledge. The two suits seemed to be very pleased with his participation. That is until they asked him about the shed, and a flash of memory surged him; suddenly he could smell the smoke and feel the blast. With a hall echoing child-like gag he vomited on himself.  As nurses rushed in to strip Timmy of his own filth the two well dressed left without saying a word and wearing grimaced expressions.

After some time in the hospital Timmy would meet with the suited interviewers from before. A worker in the hospital brought him to a small building only a few minutes away where he was shuffled into the cubicle maze and brought to the desk of the plump woman; she looked frazzled and the gray-haired man wasn’t in sight. As she spoke to him kindly of how they had found him a family and that everything was going to be okay his hearing became distant and there was no focus. The woman turned into nothing but colorful static fuzz in the background.

Timmy did alright in the Foster care system. He was kicked out of the first house on the first day for calling his foster dad an “old dick farting faggot” (he learned that one from his dad), but the home after that he was kept in for years, it seems they were more tolerant to more colorful language. That is until he was 16 and the home went under investigation. Ends up the foster parents had been molesting their new intakes for sometime now. Timmy thought back but he couldn’t remember them doing anything inappropriate to him, and so they found it was only the girls, and the entire home was broken up and scattered as if everyone in it wasn’t broken enough.

Shortly after that he was put into a new home, and that’s where he met her. A slim built dirty blond that sat on the stairs observing Timmy’s introduction to his new foster parents. He was watching her back through the corner of his eye, and finally looking directly at her she abruptly stood and ran up the stairs. His first couple days there he didn’t have the nerves to approach her, though she slowly consumed his thoughts as time went on.

One evening as he sat at the kitchen lazily doing English homework, the foster mom asked him to gather the rest of the kids for dinner. With a grumpy groan he journeyed upstairs yelling and banging on various doors  “it’s dinner fuck faces, come eat!”. He came to her door and delayed. Creaking it open ajar he called in almost a whimper “Shayla?” There was no answer. He opened the door wider and beyond crumpled sheets and dirty clothes there was nobody there, but the window was open. As he peered his head out of the window he looked right and saw nothing then turned left and saw her sitting there. She looked frightened. “What are you doing out here?!” She shrieked and fumbled her hands about her sweater. “Darlene says it’s time to eat, I just came to get you.” Shayla eyed him up and down while looking ashamed, “well tell her I’m coming, I’ll be down in a minute. Just don’t tell anyone I was out here.” He smiled and reassured “your secret is safe with me.” She looked him directly in the eye and quietly asked “would you like to come hang out up here with me later tonight?” nervously stuttering he accepted “y-y-yeah, of course.” They went inside and he could hardly contain himself at dinner, often tuning everyone else out and consistently glancing at her in disbelief and anticipation.

Later that night as he laid in his bed listening to the radio she peeked in. “Psst! follow me Tim!” He crept out behind her and into her room, she gracefully moved out the window onto the roofing and looked back to confirm he was there. They got to the spot he saw her earilier just beyond the edge of the far rooms window and sat down. “You promise you won’t tell anybody?” she asked. He looked at her and with a sarcastic tone said “I’m gonna tel everyone.” She let out a laugh and realized she felt comfortable with him. She pulled out a small clear glass pipe, dropped some small white crumbs into it and began to heat it up with a lighter. “You ever smoke ice before Tim?” All he’d ever smoked was cigarettes, he was offered pot once at school but declined. “Nope, never have.” She hit the pipe and eyed him “here, now you take a puff” and he did. The taste was familiar, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

After he blew out the smoke it was like all of his senses sky rocketed. He felt a rush of energy, pride, anxiousness and he quickly turned for another hit. After a couple more he was feeling like a superhero, he started telling Shayla all of these things that he wanted to accomplish and she smiled at him talking as well but he couldn’t hear anything but himself. Suddenly she leaned over and started kissing him. All talk stopped as they were engulfed into each other. “Come on” she quietly said while taking his hand and dragging him back to the window. They got into her bed and peeled off layers of clothing.  He never asked her if it was hers, but he knew it was his first time, and it was amazing. She fell asleep on his chest after they both climaxed, but he couldn’t. He lay there with her in his arms until 5am, then he went back to his room and awaited the school day.

As he was walking towards the school Shayla suddenly rushed beside him grabbing his arm. “Hey mister, fuck school! You should come with me.” They headed down a backstreet going away from the high school. “Where are we going?” Timmy asked. “To go get more ice.” She said with a smile. He looked at her with concern “Doesn’t that cost a lot of money?” she giggled “when I’m at school I’m bumming lunch money, and it adds up. Plus it’s not like Meth is all that expensive anyways.”

They approached a small tan house, the yard was covered with kitchen appliances, rotting chairs and knee high grass. She rang the door bell and the door cracked showing a tattered womans face “Hey Shayla, what’s up?” the girl at the door asked. “I need to see Rueben, and don’t worry about Tim here, he’s safe.” The haggard lady looked at Timmy with one bruised eye and then retreated as she unlocked the door chain and let them in.

Inside of the house it smelled rancid. There was a Television blaring day-time soap operas and on the floor was a man scribbling on paper while rocking back and forth. Shayla led him past and went to one of the bedroom doors lightly knocking “Rueben, it’s Shayla!” The door opened and they entered. Rueben, a slim latino man with a scar on his right cheek sat on the bed. “What’s up with this little prick.” he quizzed while glaring at the both of them. “This is Tim, he’s my boyfriend and he’s cool, don’t trip.” Timmy looked at her in bewilderment, thinking I’m her boyfriend now? Yes! He didn’t even care that neither of them asked, and the fact it had been less than 12 hours since they said their first words to one another. “Well what you need girl?” Rueben asked. Shayla took out a wad of crumpled bills from her coat pocket “I got fifty bucks Rube, what you got?” The latino started wading through various boxes around the bed. “I got some good shit right now Shay, it’ll fuck ya’ll up.” He let out a raspy laugh as he pulled out a bag with a few chunky white rocks in it “here’s a half.” He handed her the baggie, she opened it and looked at Timmy with delight. They all started smoking.

The routine went as follows; school was out of the picture, they’d roam the streets everyday high on their youth mixed with methamphetamine. When they were getting close to out of a sack Shayla would leave him at the park while she went to the school at lunchtime and returned with various amounts of money, sometimes a little, sometimes a lot. They’d go to Rueben’s house, get more rocks and the cycle continued. Evenings they’d return home, avoiding the foster care and spending the nights fucking in her bed and talking about anything and everything. This went on for weeks.

One night as Timmy snuck into her room and got into the twin sized mattress with her she said “I have something to tell you Tim.” He laid quiet as she explained that she had been throwing up and feeling odd. She’s late on her period and thinks she may be pregnant due to their lack of condom use. He was shocked but not worried, it made sense and he didn’t want to scare her. He for some reason almost felt like he was ready to father a child, especially with Shayla. They agreed to not tell anyone and keep it their secret, and he promised her everything would be alright.

The routine pursued for several more weeks. Shayla got cash, they bought bags from Rueben and all was good in life. One night they hung out on the roof of their home and got extra high, started talking of dreams of the future, their life together. They went inside and began to make love, love like neither of them had felt before. Out of nowhere the door to the room opened, the light turned on and both foster parents stood there. “Oh fuck!” Timmy shouted as he jumped off of Shayla and began a quest for his clothing. Darlene and the foster dad yelled and screamed. “Get out! What are you two thinking!” Darlene slapped the girl as Timmy ran downstairs putting on his clothes and she followed close behind. They left the house with nothing more than the pipe and a bag with a few small rocks left.

They headed out to Rueben’s house for a place to stay the night. They got their and rang the doorbell but nobody answered. They could hear the television at full volume but there was no sign of anybody inside, which was very unusual. “Fuck it, we’ll be okay let’s go.” Timmy said grabbing Shayla’s hand and leading her away. It was cold and it began to rain harder than ever.

With teeth chattering they found a spot under a small bridge nearby and fell onto each other, shivering. Shayla pulled out the pipe and bag with the few remaining crumbs “this will keep us warm” she said as she dropped the rocks into the pipe and began to heat it up. Timmy’s mind was storming, he couldn’t stop talking about how they were going to be okay and he would find a way for them to have a life together without going back to the home. He wanted to save her, he didn’t know how but he knew there was a way.

They finished up what was left of their smoke, and were so lifted into euphoria that they couldn’t even feel the hypothermia setting in. Timmy laid back against the wet cement looking up to the underside of the bridge. Shayla laid her head on his lap, teeth chattering. Blood began to spill out of the front of her skirt and into the water below them. She lightly convulsed completely unaware of what was happening as the expelled secretions of fetus streamed into the rainwater and flowed out from under the bridge where they froze together.

“Tell me what it’ll be like Tim, tell me please?” she whinnied at him as she laid with eyes closed, forgetting to breath again. The blood was mostly in the street now, besides the few small solid chunks that remained squished between her still legs. He wanted to tell her what he saw for their future, but the words never made it out of his throat. He closed his eyes and envisioned a nice home with good property out in the woods somewhere. It was summertime and in the kitchen Shayla cooked dinner and took care of the kids in their lavish double-wide trailer. As he began to drift away into nothingness following his lover into the unknown and escaping the rain, his last vision was their homes flourishing backyard; with a nice shed in the back.



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