Gage studied her face as words failed. "Yes," he said and wiped away a tear. "I'm sorry," he added and shifted.

"I won't forgive him!" she declared, and he tried to hug her. Moxie jerked away and ran around the house.

"I'm sorry, Moe," his heart hurt, and he wiped away another tear. Moxie will go to Castle Bubblegum, a severely pink playhouse, until she stops crying. At least there is no way Dad can hurt her there, he thought with a prayer.

Gage looked back to the house. Gallows King, he thought, that is what Dad said. The name hung in the mind, hairs rose on the back of his neck, and he shivered. Something stirred in the darkness at the back of the mind, slithered and curled. He pushed the name away.

"I need to check on Mom," he declared, but looked around the shed. Gage pulled away from the shadows.

Back inside the house, the smell of spilled whiskey, beer, and drugs choked the air. Heat seared the room, and Gage saw the thermostat turned up to its max. Brain cursed from the master bedroom, and Cheri sobbed from the spare. The creak of ice covered branches crept inside, and the roof groaned from the weight. He kept his mouth shut. A pile of dishes set in the sink, and he sighed. Water dripped from the faucet, which dribbled down to other bowls and plates. He pulled his shirt away, sweat already threatened to stick it to his skin.

"I killed and I killed," Brian whispered, and it haunted the hall. Distant words a curse, prayer, and confession.

Gage swallowed, opened his mouth, but shut it. He hurried past the master bedroom, eyes adverted. The spare bedroom set further down the hall. Only silence came, even the sobs had stopped for which he thanked God. He knocked, though kept it low. Nothing, Gage tried again, but a bit louder. Cheri was silent. He tried the handle, and it turned in his hand. After poking his head in, she didn't tell him to go away. His mother sat against the head board, hands in her lap.

"Mom," he said, and crossed his arms over a meager chest. "I just came to check on you. I was worried." Gage crept closer. No words came, which could soothe Brian's betrayal. "I just wanted to tell you something, and then I'll leave you alone." He considered turning on the lights, and knew she had themed them off because of the brightness. "It isn't your fault, and we, me and Moe, love you. It'll be okay." Gage said, though blushed at the lie.

He listened for some word, hopefully a show of relief. Silence answered. Gage braced for a rebuke, gentle though firm, but still an admonishment. Always a reprimand or disappointment, he drew closer to see it in Cheri's face. Her eyes were open to slits. He waited for the tongue lashing, always his reward.

"Mom," he whispered; feared to wake her, if she was only asleep. Closer Gage came; red of the alarm clock splashed across her face. Although Cheri was present, something in her felt absent. "Mom," he repeated, stepped closer, and touched her leg. A bottle of pills in her hand tipped out, white dots turned sanguine in the light. Little beads of sweat rolled down his spine. High tang of piss cut through the air. As the question rose, his mind slammed shut upon it, crushed it. Gage shook his head, though as a reflex. "Momma," he blubbered, and the world wavered through his tears.

"No," he said, and the question crept closer, though he denied it. Gage shook her leg, which was a bit cool. Cheri's head tipped forward chin on chest. He held a finger up to her nose, nothing. Her chest was still. As his head shook in negation, his body trembled. Beside the bed was a small mirror, which he grabbed. No exhalation fogged the glass.

Gage's knees buckled. His face buried in her lap. Little bumps dug into his face, and he pulled back. The world wavered before him, stained crimson by the alarm clock's glow. He dashed away the tears, and saw what had stuck to his skin. Pills had spilled across her lap. All he knew were they made his mother slow and stupid, distant. Cheri felt better, because she felt numb, he knew. Once, he had considered taking one, so his father's barbs would sting a little less. His eyes locked onto it. Something so small held all mother's love.

"Is this," he held it up to Cheri, who grew even cooler. Was this pill worth more than me, Moxie? Was it better to exist, die, upon an island of stupefaction? To feel numb, entire world a haze of disjointed sensations was better than her children.

Gone, the word echoed in the heart as a stone tossed in a well. Goosebumps rose. A shiver coursed through him. The hope, one day she would love him as he loved her, was gone. Abandoned to the megrims of his father, he knew. Gage had hoped Cheri would intervene on their behalf. Children at school, whose fathers hated Brian, would make their displeasure known, but she never came to his rescue. Cut adrift, he could only hope for salvation, protect Moxie and his mother. Maybe, her son did have a place in her heart, but it was far behind the pills.

His head rested in her lap, as the comforter muffled his cries. Gage pulled Cheri's limp hand onto his shoulder. At least now she held him. In his stories, mothers loved their sons. He would write her a story, one where she told him she loved him. Maybe, it would be good enough to make him feel it was true. A prayer was offered, though it seemed even the Heavens ignored lonely children. The dream of seeing pride in her eyes melted away. Any hope of their family being whole was also dashed. Very few pillars held up the world of a child, and he already lost his father. No one is coming to help, he cried.