Freewrite or Story?

This was supposed to be a freewrite but somehow, it turned into a story, I think. Not that I'm complaining. It's amazing what our minds and thoughts can birth when we decide to set them free for a while.

I divided it into three in order to make sense of it. I'll let you fill in the pieces as you wish. I hope it finds you well.


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Baby

They call me baby. They do things to me. Things that either warm or cool my body. Sometimes, the things they do tickle my belly and make me laugh. Other times, it really hurts and I cry. They give me a whitish liquid all the time, even when I do not want it. They have this serious look on their faces so I just take it to make them happy. But I don't mind, I get to sleep afterwards. They smile at me and say things I do not understand. When I get tired of listening, I play with things around me. I like their faces. They are different, so are their eyes. I like touching them. I pull their hairs too. I like being cuddled best by the one with the longer hair. She kisses me all the time. Sometimes she'll rub her cheeks on mine and leave some liquid behind. I can always tell when she's sad. It makes me sad too and I cry. She dislikes seeing me cry. I know this because she always sings to me when I do. It's been two days and I'm lying here in a strange bed. Strange faces are staring down at me. I wonder where she is. I want her to cuddle me.

--

Mama

I wasn't looking. I use that word because it's what my friends called it, well before they stopped being my friends; looking. I was only 21 and the only thing I wanted badly was a college degree. I was doing already it. I was finally getting there and I was happy. For the first time in my life I saw an uncomplicated future for myself. Then I walked into the mechanic workshop that day and saw him watching me. I got lost in his eyes and his smile. But everything was a lie. The drugs followed. The beatings. More lies. Then the pregnancy. We almost escaped, my baby and I but he found us. Now, I need those pills and there's only one place I know I can get them. The drugstore he showed me. The place he used to get his deals. It'll finally be over.

--

Papa

Her smile was the first thing I saw. I used to be a blind man. No, not the kind of blindness you are probably thinking about. This is different, like something you begin to do and it turns into a habit. Like an addict unwilling to heal. I paid no attention to things. I found no interest in them. I lived like the dead. Each day, I spent surviving, the only way I knew how to. Until that Thursday afternoon. It was hot and I was frustrated. I had to cover for my junkie co-worker, again. Funny I saw him in that light but never myself. Maybe because I learned to keep it together. I indulged but I still found my feet every time. But she walked in, a confused look on her face, then she came straight to where I stood and smiled. Everything changed. I don't really know what or how but things were different. Now, I pay close attention. Now, things will forever be different.


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