Taking deep breaths as he continued down the alley, Eugene slowly controlled himself. He felt himself nearly lose his grip earlier, as his emotions threatened to boil over.
I can't let this get to me...I'm better than this.
He was used to the jeering, taunting, and the insults from the hooligans in the neighbourhood. Afterall, he grew up with most of them. Even when they were younger it wasn't any different. In fact, it was just as bad if not worse. This is nothing...this can't break me...I won't break, I won't- He said so to himself over and over but something told him today was different.
Online, his readers do the same thing to him on a daily basis. The comments, the harsh critiques, and the discouragement. For a while he thought he could handle it if he just powered through. And he did...for a while.
It's like no matter what I do. The world is hell bent on pushing me to my limits, tearing me down, and belittling my efforts. I keep telling myself I can hold on, that I can keep going a bit more. Lately, it all just weighs down on me.
He was frustrated, exhausted, and nearly burnt out. The sound of his footfalls echoed down the alley. Eugene felt his heartbeat slow with the rhythm of his stride. His shoulders sagged.
Soon he stopped halfway in the alley. To his right stood a graffiti covered wall, some of which were vulgar words spray painted on top of each other. Eugene's eyes wandered the surface of the wall until his eyes settled on a poorly drawn image of a clown.
Deep sunken eyes, ragged clothes, and a dull expression on its face. Next to the image was the word: Freak, written in red paint. His gaze remained on the word and time seemed to slow to a crawl in the quiet alley.
Freak huh...how fitting. Yeah...that's what they call me, a freak. Suddenly the sound of dull thuds reverberated in the alley. Like I don't know that already!?! His fist struck the image of the clown once.
You think I don't know what I am!?! Eugene screamed in his head as he threw one solid punch after the other.
Soon the wall shuddered as each blow struck the stone wall. Each strike landing in the middle of the clown's face. Eugene found it difficult to stop himself. His fists were hurting, but his chest was aching from restraining all the anger he had kept inside, all this time.
If only I could show them...if only I could make them know how much it hurts. If only I could-!!!
Eugene found himself punching the image of the clown, repeatedly. He bit his lip, gritted his teeth, ignoring the growing pain in his hands.
If only they knew… if only they felt even a fraction—eAnother punch, another shudder.—just one damn second of what I— He screamed as he continued throwing punches. Until finally, his knuckles were cut and the pain weakened his fingers so much he could no longer clench his fists.
...They don't know shit! None of them know!! Bastards!! His bleeding hands trembled.
It was painful. But not as painful as holding back everything that was threatening to boil up inside him, needing to suppress the anger so that he wouldn't make things worse for his mother.
The alley was quiet once again, except for the sound of his labored gasps that echoed in the surroundings.
"...groceries...I still have groceries to pick up..." He whispered to himself, as he shakily wiped the blood off his knuckles with his shirt. Shit....it hurts.
"...get it together Eugene..." he muttered between ragged breaths.
Turning away from the bloodied wall, he then walked towards the other end of the alley.
- - -
Stepping out of the alleyway, Eugene took in the sight of Third street. This street was appealing compared to the other three simply because most, if not all of the houses here were designed with more modern appeal. There were trees, shrubs, and flowers, which were a rare sight on the street he lived on.
The view soothed him, and he found himself staring at the blooming flowers.
Pretty. I wish we could grow them as well...if only. I can't even take care of myself, much less plants...or a plant.
Moving along, he watched as children played on the street. They hopped on squares drawn on the street, chased each other while squealing out of excitement during tag, and taunted each other during dodgeball. Occasionally stopping every so often when a car has to pass through. He watched as a little girl slipped and fell forward before being tagged by one of the other kids. The young girl's mother, who was watching, quickly ran over and knelt down, checking on the tearful girl who was visibly trying not to cry.
The sight stirred nostalgia within Eugene, and he watched this interaction for a bit before turning his attention away. Feeling warm and fuzzy as the bakeshop slowly came into view.
The plentiful aroma of various kinds of pastries, cookies, and cakes assaulted his nose.
Walking up to the store, he paused, seeing the cuts on his knuckles. Shit...how do I explain this? 'Don't worry about it, I just knocked the shit out of someone earlier, no problem'-you know what? I don't have time to explain myself...it won't matter. Eugene thought for a moment, and decided to enter the store because he came here with a task. He was more than tired and did not have enough energy for the sake of keeping up appearances.
He was a known delinquent locally that's always getting into fights, brawls, and coming out bloodied, but victorious.
It wasn't a source of pride. Often he found himself uncomfortable with the wary gazes sent his way. After all it gave him a terrible reputation as a known short-fused man. Most of the neighbourhood tend to avoid him because of it, leaving him isolated and without friends. But that was fine with him. I don't need friends , I'm doing fine alone. He often says to himself as a way to cope.
If only it worked better than it did.
Shaking his head, Eugene walked up to the counter to stand in line. There were two or three customers waiting up front, though having heard the bell-chimes, they turned around and saw Eugene approaching the line.
As if it had been rehearsed, all the customers stepped aside allowing Eugene to walk up to the counter.
From an external perspective, it would appear as though Eugene was being given special considerations, and that would be the case if not for the fact that all the customers were standing stiffly and avoiding his gaze.
Having become used to the phenomenon, Eugene simply walked up to the counter.
Yeah. Perks of being a locally known delinquent.
"Hey there Paulie, mom sent me to pick up the groceries. I believe she left them behind a few hours earlier."
Paulie, who was busy packing a box of lemon-cheesecakes glanced up at Eugene. He was a head shorter than him, and had a balding head. With his kind eyes, and mustache that curled at the ends. Paulie had a unique air of amiableness.
He looked professional in his attire, which consisted of a pale yellow apron and underneath that, denim coveralls. All of that despite the distinct lack of hair on his dome.
Chuckling at the sight of customers stepping aside. Paulie pointed to a side door. "Groceries are in the kitchen. While you're back there, would you mind grabbing that yellow box of sweets next to the groceries? The one with a green ribbon on it. I've got a line to deal with here and everyone else is currently on break. I've been swamped all afternoon so you'd be doing me a real favor" he said, as his hands continued to wrap and package more orders for the people waiting.
"Yeah, sure P. No problem."
Walking around the counter, Eugene found his way to the kitchen area in the back where the sweets were made. At the moment, it was partially empty with only the unfinished pastries and other ingredients placed on different stations. No other employee was present at the moment so it was quiet.
So we're looking for a..yellow box...green ribbon...where? Ah, there it is
Spotting the bag of groceries placed neatly somewhere to his right. Eugene also noticed the box next to them which he picked up carefully.
It had a transparent cover. The box itself felt smooth to the touch and weighed lightly. Inside was a collection of assorted brownies. The brownies smelled fresh, and the box felt slightly warm in his hand.
Picking up the grocery bags using his left arm, Eugene turned to head for the door only to pause when something caught his ear.
faint thumping noises coming from the back end of the kitchen.
What was that? Eugene thought, raising an eyebrow.
Carefully putting the grocery bags and the box of brownies down. He made his way to the back of the kitchen to investigate. Glancing behind one of the stations, Eugene found a fluffy grey cat wrestling with a mouse toy.
Looking down at the cat. Eugene let out a sigh of relief, he reached down to pet the oblivious cat whom he did not recognize. Having visited the bakeshop often, he knew that the owner had a strict policy when it came to animals.
Of course, finding a cat in the shop wasn't really weird. He knew of some stores, that took care of pet cats who in turn took care of pests such as rats and small bugs.
Still...I don't think Uncle Jun would allow a cat in the kitchen. Maybe it got in while Paulie was busy? I should probably ask him about it just in case... Eugene's train of thought came to a halt when the cat stopped playing with it's toy, and instead focused it's gaze on him.
He felt as though the cats gaze was very intense. Suddenly his face felt cooler as the cat continued to stare at him quietly.