The Seven Habits

Her mother crouched lower, anger sparking within her eyes.

“Nothing,” she snapped. “Go to your room, you fuckin’ bastard.”

Ocean stepped to the side of the clearing and her mother quickly shuffled away, shielding whatever it was she clutched against her chest from her daughter’s view. Ocean craned her neck and felt curiosity warm her chest and neck.

“What is it? Is it something of Daddy’s? Did you—”

“I said it’s nothing!” The older woman was trembling now and she snarled at her daughter like one of the wolves that sometimes prowled through the city. Strands of spittle dangled from the few teeth remaining in her mouth and her nostrils flared wide.

“Go the fuck away, Ocean!”

The words and tone stung Ocean as if her mother had physically slapped her across the face. At the same time, her own brow furrowed and her body tensed; she bit her lip to keep from snapping back at her mother, but her hands balled into her fists by her side. Now, it was a matter of principle… When she felt as if she could speak calmly again, her words came out in clipped, short busts.

“You got something. What is it, Mama? What are you hiding?” Ocean continued circling around the wall of twisted metal surrounding her, stooping slightly so her head wouldn’t brush against the tarp.

“I said go the fuck away, you nosy little cunt! Mind your own damn business!”

Her mother had turned and looked as if she were seconds from pouncing. Clutched to her chest was a brown, furry body with small, dark eyes and a hairless tail tapered to a point. Her mother was now shaking so violently that tremors passed through the animal’s limp body as if it were actually still alive.

“You’ve got a rat! Where did you get a rat?”

“It’s mine, you understand? It’s fuckin’ mine.”

Her mother’s face had twisted into a gnarled mask of rage with wide eyes and small pupils. She squeezed her prize so tightly that it’s body seemed to balloon out on either side of her grip.

“Go find your own, you little brat!”

Ocean’s stomach rumbled and she found that she couldn’t take her eyes away from the creature. She studied its coarse, short hairs; the single droplet of blood congealed on wiry whiskers… the rounded ears and little black feet.

“There’s… there’s enough for both of us right? I’ll trade you something… anything. Tell me what you want.” Ocean’s mouth flooded with metallic-tasting saliva and she constantly ran her tongue over her lips as her voice quivered. “Tell me and it’s yours. Just a bite. Just a taste. Please, Mama? Just a little… “

“Fucking die! I want you to fucking die and leave me the Hell alone! It’s mine!”

The words stopped Ocean in her tracks as effectively as if she’d walked into an invisible wall. Her mouth hung open and tears welled within her eyes as she struggled to find words.

“It’s mine, mine, mine!”

Even though she felt as if everything within her had suddenly shriveled and died, Ocean still found herself unable to pull her gaze away from the dead rat. It shimmered through the tears that began to trickle from the corner of her eyes, and she swallowed painfully.

“Mama… “

“Fuck you!” The woman wrenched a piece of metal from the grill of a car and held it before her like a sword as she rose to her full height. With her other hand, she held the rat by its tail and dangled it slightly behind her body, shielding it like she would a small child from a predator. “It’s… fucking… mine!”

Spittle flew from her mouth with each word and her lips had pulled back into a sneer. Every muscle in her body looked tense, bulging against her thin skin as if trying to break free.

“Mama… I…”

Ocean watched as the rat plummeted toward the ground and for a moment struggled to make sense of what was happening. Why would Mama just drop it? Was she leaving it for her, maybe? Was she…

Ocean became aware of an inhuman, guttural scream only seconds before her mother’s body crashed into her own, and then she was tumbling backward, the base of her skull thudding against the concrete with enough force to make her jaw snap closed painfully.

The older woman scrambled over Ocean’s small body, scratching bloody furrows into her shoulders and neck, screaming so loudly that her shrill voice caused a quiver in her daughter’s eardrums.

“Mine, mine, mine, mine!”

She was throwing punches now, driving her fist repeatedly into Ocean’s nose and mouth with flat, wet smacks. Ocean squirmed below her, writhing and twisting like a headless snake, trying to buck her mother from her body. The other woman had her pinned squarely, her knees pressed painfully into Ocean’s collarbones.

“Mine! Mine!”

Her mama gripped the jagged length of metal in both hands and raised it above Ocean’s throat.

“You can’t have any, you greedy little bitch! It’s mine! Just fucking die, you ungrateful whore! Fucking die! Die! Die!”

Her arms trembled, and Ocean grew perfectly still, eyes focused on the sharp edges of the metal. She tried to say something, to say anything that would keep the weapon from being plunged into her neck… all that came out was a choked sob that gurgled deep within her throat.

CHAPTER THREE

Now that’s a damn good question.

If everything I say is true, then what makes me so flippin’ special? How come the Eye of Aeons doesn’t open for just any Joe Schmoe walkin’ down the street? I’ve got to confess man, that’s something I’ve invested a lot of hours in. You know how many nights I’ve spent, tossing and turning, as I’ve tried to figure out the answer to that very question? Shit, there was a time when I was getting two, maybe three, hours of sleep a night. Tops.

The best I can figure, it’s because I’ve done drugs, man. A lot of drugs. Sticky purple pellets of opium all wrapped up in foil pockets that you can fashion into a little pipe if you’re hard up, hydroponic reefer so fine you can see all these crystals clinging to the bud like it’d been flash frozen or some shit, pills of every imaginable shape and color… fuck, it was like a pharmacological rainbow jumped straight down my throat. And acid, man. Lots and lots of blotter dissolved on this tongue of mine, believe you me. I’d shotgun down the OJ, cause vitamin C really kicks that shit into overdrive and all these doors I never even knew where there started flyin’ open in my mind. Fact is, I was high so frickin’ much that sobriety was my altered state, man.

Don’t get the wrong impression, though. I wasn’t just another sorry-ass son of a bitch searching for a way to escape the mess his life had become. I wasn’t some doped up loser just lookin’ for the next fix. Fuck that shit, man. I had goals. I had plans. All those drugs were just an end to a means, if ya can dig that.

See, I used to live with this cat by the name of Johnny Necessary. Swear to God, that was the dude’s real name. Look it up, if you want, he’ll be in that there computer of yours. Picked up on possession about three, four years back. Tall guy, shaven head, goatee. Got this excited little quirk to his eyes that makes it look like he’s always going through REM, even when wide awake. Makes some people nervous ‘cause they feel like there’s always something going on in that mind of his, that he’s constantly sizing things up and forming schemes that don’t involve them. Never bothered me much, though.

Me and Johnny, see, were what you might call like-minded individuals…. No, I don’t fuckin’ mean enablers, man. Enablers are for people with problems, people who’ve got a monkey shittin’ down their backs and whisperin’ in their ear. We weren’t like that. We were fuckin’ pioneers, man. Visionaries, even. The Wright Brothers of Instant Zen, you might say.

See, me and ‘ole Johnny weren’t just recreational users, man. We had this wild idea that you could totally destroy the ego. Just wipe it all away like a faulty equation on a chalkboard. And when you’re staring at a blank slate, everything is possible. You can fill that space with anything… anything, man. You