Page 1 of Ruthless Commander
1
Mateo
Ten years old
They’d be home soon.
I sat in the bedroom and wrapped my arms around my knees, watching as the shadows grew along the floor, waiting for the front door to open and my parents to walk through.
They were going to come.
Because they had to.
I waited until night came and my little brother cried, tugging on my shirt beside me.
He was hungry, he was always hungry. When I couldn’t wait anymore, I pushed up from the floor and made my way through the house and into the kitchen. I opened the cupboards, finding a few scraps of food, the last piece of bread wrapped in waxed paper. My belly howled, but it didn't matter, I only cared about him.
"Ma…” he whimpered. At four years old, that was what he called me.
I scraped what was left of the margarine against the stale piece of bread and cut it into small squares, placing them onto a plate that I slid in front of him as he sat at the small table. “Eat.”
Big brown eyes looked up at me, waiting for me to nod. He didn't care the bread was more than a week old, dried and hard at the edges. All he saw was food as he grabbed a piece and stuffed it in his mouth, chewing hard. I patted his head, feeling the greasy hair, and looked around the house. Our place was empty, and cold. Too cold.
My parents had left for Vlahna before first light this morning and still they hadn’t come home. They always came home, always before the sun went down, always carrying food for us to have that night.
I swallowed hard, patting my little brother's shoulder as he ate.
"Ma?” he murmured through his food.
“How many times do I have to tell you?” I snapped, turning toward him. “It’s Ma-te-o. Mateo.Say it.”
But he didn't say my name, he just chewed the last piece of bread and swallowed it down before lifting his hands for a cup. I wanted to hate him, wanted nothing more than to walk away from his greedy little hands and his big brown eyes.
I wanted to be the one taken care of, instead of taking care of him. I wanted to be the one who felt sadness, the one who showed fear. I wanted to be the one who played and sang. But I wasn't. I was the one that took care of him. The one who watched out for him, the one who fed him when I was just as hungry. I was the one who put his needs in front of my own, just like now. I turned and walked into the kitchen, grabbed the plastic cup from the sink, and twisted the tap.
The water spluttered, running brown. I waited for the water to run clear, but it didn’t. I pushed the cup underneath, filling it with the murky brown liquid, then walked back to the greedy little kid sitting at the table.
"Momma?” he asked, gulping the water down. He didn't care that it tasted bad. In this moment it sated his thirst, and that was all that mattered.
I shook my head. "Bed." He didn't move, giving me a shake of his head, until I crossed my arms and demanded, "Bed, Edon.Now.”
He did as he was told, but with a scowl. Shoving out his chair, he made his way to the filthy mattress shoved into the corner of our room and flopped down hard, curling his bare, dirty feet against his ass. I bent down, grabbed the end of the blanket, and pulled it over his body. "They'll be here when you wake up, okay?"
He just gave a nod, watching me with careful eyes. I hated myself in that moment, hated the way I was angry at him. He depended on me, and it wasn't just for food and water. I lifted my gaze, my attention drifting. It was dangerous here on our own. "Sleep now."
I turned and walked out as he started singing, small at first until his voice got used to the strain. He sang like an angel, like someone far too perfect to belong to us. I walked back into the front room, pushed the curtains aside, and looked out. It was dark out there, too dark for my parents to walk without a light. I grew worried, flinching as a howl came from outside. It wasn't a dog, but a wolf. I'd know that sound anywhere.
I shivered, dropped the curtains back, and stepped away, looking at the door. “Where are you?”
Cold moved in, whistling through the gaps in the walls to cut right through me. I shivered, wrapped my arms around my body, and stepped backwards until I hit the wall. I slid down until my ass met the floor and there I waited, staring at the door that never opened, not that night nor the next day, and when the next night came, I realized they were never coming back.
* * *
Sixteen yearsold
"You going to eat that?"
I gave a shrug and pushed the sandwich toward him. "No, you eat it," I replied, watching my brother out of the corner of my eye.
