Bear

November. A time when the air and interpersonal interactions rapidly cool. Everyone stays indoors, trapped in the circle of their own problems, large or small, and lazily basks in the warmth before fireplaces. Their souls, however, remain coldly indifferent.

On one of these gray days, when raindrops beat steadily against the windows and the entire city struggles with the autumnal depression, a three-year-old child sat in a small, dingy room, on a bed with floral bedding, nervously biting his nails. He clutched a teddy bear with worn fur to his chest.

From the next room came the clinking of glass and an indistinct, mumbling monologue.

He's drinking again...

The little boy buried his face in the teddy bear's furry body. A stifled sob shook his tiny shoulders.

He raised his head and looked fearfully at the door.

Should he go or not?

He shuddered and swallowed hard. The presence of his beloved friend, however, helped him overcome his fear. He slid down from the crib. On trembling legs, he crossed the room. He tucked the stuffed animal under his arm and stood on tiptoe, stretching as far as he could. He reached for the doorknob with just his fingertips. He jumped slightly and managed to press it. The door slowly opened, letting a shaft of light into the dark room. The boy steeled himself, hugged the teddy bear, and stepped over the threshold.

The sight that met his blue eyes was truly pathetic: a young, yet terribly neglected, woman sitting at a table in front of several empty beer bottles, taking another mighty swig from the tap.

The boy felt sad. He could have looked at her with regret for a long time, but his stomach brutally remembered itself. The child's face twisted in pain.

"Mom..." he whimpered softly.

She slowly turned her head, looking at her son without a trace of interest. The child hesitated. He wasn't surprised by this reaction, but each time he hoped it would be different. And he was always sorely disappointed.

"Mom, I'm hungry..."

At those words, sparks of fury ignited in the woman's eyes. She jumped up from her chair and screamed,

"HUNGRY?! Are you HUNGRY, you filthy bastard?! How dare you even come to me after all this time?! You ruined my life, you bastard!" she screamed with painful reproach. Tears of rage and hopelessness streamed down her face. She lost control of herself. She grabbed the first thing she could reach and angrily threw it at the speechless boy. The empty bottle clattered against the wall and shattered just above his head. As if in some sick dream, the glass landed directly on his hair, digging painfully into his skin, and one particularly large shard cut his cheek. Blood slowly began to stain his light-colored T-shirt.

The boy didn't scream—he couldn't. He just clutched the teddy bear tightly and stared at his mother with his mouth agape. His face was burning with fire, and the salty spray was doing nothing to extinguish it.

Only when she saw the blood on his beautiful face did the woman come to her senses.

"Oh my God! TODD!!!" she screamed and rushed to him, sobbing. With a quick, yet careful gesture, she removed the remains of the bottle from him. She took a corner of her blouse and pressed it to the wound, trying to stop the bleeding. At the same time, she hugged him tightly.

"God... I'm sorry, honey." Her voice was so choked up that it was hard to understand the words. "I love you, Todd. I'm sorry... I promise it will be different... I promise." She showered his face with hot kisses. But the boy stood firm. He didn't believe in promises or kisses that reeked of alcohol. A terrible wave of sadness swept over him, forever searing his heart. He shuddered and hugged his teddy bear—a painful reminder of his lost childhood.