Chapter Text
I have been told that a mother is a wonderful thing more times than I can count. The preacher stands over me, an ill-fitting smile plastered on his face as he insists to me that Jesus and my mother are the best gifts the good Lord has blessed me with.
We stand in the desert of Northern Texas. It’s another forsaken trip for ‘troubled young adults’, with the pure intent of starving and pushing me until I am beaten into submission, to break my legs so that I may finally kneel. The climate is harsh and hostile, in spite of the stubborn undergrowth, I feel the dry rage of the sun permeate my every pore. There is a constant dissonance, though I cannot tell if it is the static of my thoughts or the buzz of angry Southern flies.
I will not tell my preacher what I truly think of my mother, I decide with a finalistic resolve. He likely knows what I thought of my father, as in a town as barren as ours, everyone knows each other. He almost certainly knew my father’s habits. How my father loved me so carnally, and he never stepped in or cared.
My mind hones in on the eternal tingling of the cross shaped scars on my arms as I ruminate on Jesus and mothers. I wonder if he ever tried to escape his bloodline. He may have been able to deny his divine Father, but his mother’s blood is in his own veins, and Heaven knows that nooses hang from family trees.