That Boy By MistressAli My wife Fala was the sweetest creature on all the world, on all the planets and galaxies that could ever exist. But like all mortals, she was trapped in a body doomed to betray, destined to send her off to the unknown realms of death. It betrayed her far too soon, far too cruelly. But I knew who the fault lay with. It wasn't all that cancer in her body; that killed her, yes, but the one who had caused it was the one at fault. It was the boy. It was always that damn boy. How I wish that child had died instead of her. But I shouldn't be saying that, as that spawn's father, the one who planted seed into his mother to grow and blossom, and create life. But only this flower didn't blossom, it withered, but it wouldn't die, so it stole something so it could survive. It stole my Fala's life. And survive it did, coming out into the world small and sickly but seemingly stubborn. The doctors were worried but for nothing, for the child held on. We were happy then. Even though he was odd. No features of ours to speak of. I had brownish-gray hair, she had red, I had brown eyes, she had olive green, and this child? He had hair of golden-tan and eyes the strangest palest blue, a color you might catch hiding among gray storm clouds if you squint really hard. He was a storm cloud. He was a dampener on our family. Why? Why was he so fucking withdrawn, why was he so apathetic, why did he fail in school, why did he shy from sports? My other sons did not. They were smart, and strong. Even my daughters tussled on the soccer field and wrestled in the mud. This kid, he was a frail, pathetic and pale thing, no brains to speak of, no muscles. No enthusiasm for anything. It couldn't be my kid. No. no. I do not raise...losers... I do not raise depressive, freakish children like him. NO. He never tried. I did. I tried speaking to him, encouraging him into sports, because there was no way I was having a boy like that. My boys are strong! But he wouldn't. So, I tried to encourage him to study, to do well in school. If I could not have a strong manly boy, then I at least wanted a smart and able-minded one. But no. Fala said he was smart, she denied him having any mental problems. The doctors (but what do they know anyway) they insisted he actually had an above average IQ. They even had the bloody gall to suggest he was smarter than our other children! I almost grabbed that doctor by the throat and shook him. Beatings. They worked on the other children. A hard smack and they'll stop whining about a toy they want. A hard smack and they'll do their homework, do it now, and get a winning grade. This child. He wanted it. He taunted it out of me, in every sidelong glance, in every silent refusal to take even the slightest interest in LIFE, he forced it out of me. Maybe I should be sorry I did those things to him. Shouldn't I be ashamed? I broke a child's arm. I broke his ribs. I spilt his blood, I covered him in bruises. Fala never said anything. She must've known I was just trying to make him FEEL. Make him come alive for just one fucking moment! The only thing it did was make the little bastard even more sullen and withdrawn, the only life in him was a glimmer of fear if I should turn his way. I grew to adore those glimmers. I didn't love him. I was his father, but I didn't love him, or even like him, and when it finally came down to it, the beating wasn't to help him anymore. It wasn't for any purpose other than to make him cry and plead and beg and that glimmer sparkle in those alien eyes. But Fala never said anything, and when I hit the other children she did, so it must've been all right. But I was justified! She knew it too, she knew I was only punishing him for his horrible crime, his leaching of HER LIFE! I knew it was him. For other than the glimmers, the only time he sparkled was when close in his mother's presence. In her arms, he glowed. But she grew paler and lighter day by day. It was like that *Child* was taking her life, like some kind of tick, just sucking it out. We found out, for Fala became worried about this sickness that didn't seem to go away. We went to the doctor, that same damn doctor who had slapped *that boy* on his naked bloodied back and forced him to take the first few breaths into his newborn lungs. If only that doctor hadn't... if only that baby had choked... The doctor came out with it flatly and with little elaboration. He didn't 'beat around the bush'. It didn't help any. Nothing could help this shit. Cancer. No treatments. Cancer. Fala was fading. We packed. There was a new colony on a distant planet. Earth was wretched, packed with pollutants, the resources fast depleting, the ground overcrowded with people and their garbage, and so many animals were nothing but memories, for they had nowhere to live and so they died. The colony sounded good. The planet was fresh and clean, and filled with animals. We heard some of the animals were actually sentient, like we are! It was true. But we 'overlanders' as they referred to us as, and they 'Mobians', did not get along so well. It had something to do with a group of our people rebelling against the rule of the Acorn king, who seemed to rule a huge expanse of the planet. Being from earth, and used to their own ways, the human group refused to compromise. And so war broke out. But the air was fresh, and there was plenty of food and for a while Fala seemed to brighten, and we thought she would be fine. But we still had no treatment. Like a cut flower, Fala glowed healthy and beautiful, but inevitably the withering began... IT WAS THAT BOY!! After his birth. That was when it started. Her sickness. Her fading. And he hastened it. I saw it. I saw her life drain when he was near her. Even right after the birth she looked strained and weak like never before with the other children. HE CAUSED IT. HE CASUED THE SICKNESS. Perhaps it was in him, and somehow when he was born, it slipped out and stuck to her instead. DAMN THAT BOY!! DMAN HIM!! The TV is so loud that the neighbors will probably start to complain. I know it's loud, for I turned the volume up all the way, but for some reason, I just can't focus on sound. It's so muffled. Maybe it's the bottle in my hand, this near empty bottle of the hardest liquor. Maybe. But my wife just died. The flower just died. There was no treatments. I leaned my head back onto the armchair, and closed my eyes, and I knew I should be a man, that manly men don't cry, but still the tears come. Fala! She was the only thing pure and sane in my life. She was my LIFE. There was no treatments. The door opens and in steps a booted foot, and then a skinny body and finally the face appears, with blue eyes bitter as always and he just looks at me. IS HE SMILING? IS THAT BOY SMILING!!?? I stand. There were no treatments. But there was a cause. My fist arches forward. She is gone, but there must be vengeance. I will beat it. I will beat this cause to the ground. And I do. I bleed, I break, I bruise, I hurtle this cause to the ground as I scream her name. Fala. My wife was the sweetest creature on all the world, on all the planets and galaxies that could ever exist. But like all mortals she was trapped in a body doomed to betray, but this body was not betrayed by itself. It was betrayed by the life that came from it. *THAT BOY*.