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Sausage only had a moment to look down at the flour he’d spilt on the floor before he joined it to dodge the bottle that was thrown at him. It smashed on the wall behind him with a loud crash, but he barely flinched. It wasn’t an unusual noise in his house.
“Useless child! What are you doing? That’s three of your dinners right there! And don’t you dare complain, it’s your fault!“
His uncle’s speech was slurred, which was a blessing, because it meant he would be to drunk to get up from the chair and beat him. Sausage dared to look up from where he was crouching on the floor and he saw a scene sadly familiar. His younger cousins clutching his mother’s shirt, who was circling them protectively with her arms, his own father sat useless in front of the fireplace, unable to stand up to his brother in law. And Sausage’s uncle just stared at him, seething and red with rage, a small drizzle of saliva creeping it’s way down his chin. Sausage slowly got up and started cleaning up the mess, both the wasted flour and the broken glass and soon the house picked back up on it’s regular business. Once the table had been set for dinner, the family sat around the table, his uncle at the head, on his left his sister and her husband who’se wheeled chair had been moved near the table so he could eat with them. His uncle’s children, sat on his right, still and polite, afraid to break the relative peace of the moment. Only Sausage wasn’t there, instead he sat on the porch, looking out to the nearby woods. He wondered, would his life be different had his father not been injured on the job all those years ago, would he have protected him? But then if he hadn’t been injured, they would have never moved in with his uncle, and who would have protected his cousins then?
“Sausage! Boy! Sit at the table with your family! Just ‘cause you don’t deserve to eat doesn’t mean you get to fuck around all night. Come here and be polite!“
Sausage sighed and stood up to make his way back inside, but before he could sit at the table his uncle barked again.
“Get me another bottle first. Make yourself useful.”
So he went to fetch a bottle in the hidden part of the outdoor storage, because after all, and despite what his uncle was like, alcohol was still contraband in the Districts. But he did as he told, muttering to himself, that he’d show him useful one of these days.