Free Charlie's Requiem Novella by A. American

both passing within the last four years. He had been an “oops” baby, coming when his parents had given up hope of having a child. His mother was over forty when he was born and his father pushing fifty. When his mom died of ovarian cancer four years ago, his father lost his will to stick around and passed soon after. John devoted himself to his work after that, it was all he had. Now, it seemed to be a blessing.
    As he drifted off to sleep, he heard a distant crack of gunfire. Knowing that it was many blocks away, he was grateful that he didn’t have anyone to worry about. It made falling asleep a little easier and he blew out the candle. A surprisingly deep and rested sleep found him a minute later while the rest of the city began a slow burn towards its eventual demise.

Chapter 9
    Day 1
    Holding Cell, 33 rd Street Jail
    The young man dozed in a fitful slumber while leaning against the wall of the holding cell. His new burn marks were starting to become both painful and exhausting at the same time. His skin had been scorched many times in the past three years and like most painful or stressful things, a person’s tolerance became almost non-existent with each successive assault. He didn’t want to have to tolerate the pain anymore. It was what made him snap that morning and it was keeping him from finding any comfort at the moment.
    He could hear the other prisoners murmuring amongst themselves, but he tried his best to look within himself and ignore the others. The smell of body odor from his fellow inmates and urine near the open toilet made for an interesting aroma. The aura of the others nearby left him wanting to leave, a feeling he hadn’t felt since the whole ordeal began.
    Sticking the knife into his mother’s girlfriend hadn’t phased him in the least. She was a monster, and monsters deserved to die. His mother, on the other hand… now that was starting to become a gnawing headache in the back of his brain.
    In truth, the death of his mother had been coming for years. She had become increasingly bitter as the years with her girlfriend passed. Several times in the first few years after the divorce, she had attempted to resolve things with his dad. But each time, his father had rejected her attempts at reconciliation.
    The first time was when she lost her permanent alimony. The girlfriend’s attorney had assured her that she would be “set for life” since permanent alimony would never end unless she remarried. It was all his mother needed to file for divorce and live the exciting life her girlfriend promised. She would never have to marry again, and what woman receiving permanent alimony would every remarry when she could just live with their boyfriend or girlfriend and enjoy a lifetime of welfare? But when the final divorce decree came down, his mother only was given temporary, rehabilitative alimony. She immediately tried to reunite with his dad, but he recognized her true motivations and refused.
    The second time she tried to reconcile with his father was when her girlfriend had beaten her. Again, his dad denied her, figuring she had made her bed, now she could sleep in it. His mom eventually agreed to go back to her girlfriend if she promised not to beat her anymore. That was when the boy started to become the punching bag, taking his mother’s place. That was three years and seven broken ribs ago.
    So the boy was conflicted when he thought of shoving the knife into his mother’s chest. No matter what she had allowed, and participated in, she was still his mother. It was hurtful that she let him be beaten, bruised and burnt. So when she herself had crossed the line that morning and started choking the young man, she received the six inch blade for her efforts. But despite her abuse, it was still his mother.
    His OCD was starting to kick in and the snakes and spiders that felt like they were crawling on his skin were starting to make their presence known. So he began to count the tiles on the