Preface:
All of the post’s take place in the past, starting about the time Caden was 10 and living in Boston. Caden is now 15 living in Hathian as run away. All the people In the blog are purely fictional and are for Character development only. I am using this Blog to help build an understanding of the complex Character that is Caden. I hope you enjoy the stories, and please leave comments if you feel so inclined.

Story:
Caden dug his hands into his pockets as he stepped off the school bus. The cool air almost instantly turning his nose red, it was unseasonably cold for October, even for Boston. Caden stopped in his tracks, turning to look at the bus as its doors closed and rumbled off into the distance with his hope for a normal night drifting along inside. After what seemed like an eternity Caden had finally gotten up the nerve to begin his five block walk home, his movements were slow and lethargic, his eyes never leaving the piece of trash he was kicking in front of him. Ten year old Caden rounded his final corner allowing his eyes drift up to look at his driveway, seeing an unknown beat up car sitting there lifeless. He looked down at the ground, each step drawing him close to what was becoming his own personal hell. Caden took a deep breath of the thin cold air, as he sat down on the front step of his house. Caden knew better than to go inside, he didn’t know exactly what was going on but he knew soon enough that a man would walk out of the house, give him a small evil smile and move to his car and drive off, leaving him to pick up what pieces he could.

Caden forced his mind to think back to a time where things seemed normal, at least to him. His mother and father were happy, or at least that’s what he saw. They would spend time together, once a month going to the beach, eating hamburgers off the grill. He loved everything about it, except the sand. The sand was so coarse, and it just rubbed you without relief until you were utterly miserable. Even after he left the beach sand was still everywhere, he would find it in his hair, his ears, and burrowed in ever crevice of his body.

Suddenly Caden’s thoughts were interrupted by the door opening up, and as he predicted the man walked out, adjusting his shirt some before turning down to Caden giving him that smile that he had to many times before. As the man moved to the car and drove away, Caden slowly stood up and turned around moving to the door with somewhat of an urgency. Cande’s hand grabbed the cold metal opening it letting his eyes fall on the ugly hated scene before him. His mother was lying on the floor, sprawled out in a euphoric state. Her top was thrown over the TV which was across from the couch which donned her Pants and undergarments. The first time Caden had seen this scene it had disturbed him deeply, and still does but now he moved about trying to block the images out of his head. He grabbed her clothes before moving to his weak, vulnerable mother calling for her. His voice had started to become meeker with time; Caden had started withdrawing into himself in an attempt to live a normal life. Shaking his mother rabidly caused her to stir, so that he knew that she was alive, as she moan he struggled to put on her clothes, achieving this in some tattered since. Much like a five year old would dress a doll. Her shirt half on, her bar was not clasped, her pants not buttoned, but all of that would have to come later.

As Caden’s mother lay on the floor he quickly rose up, scanning the room for what was out of place, and there was a lot. The first thing he did was moved to the baggie of brown powder that lay next to a few needles. Caden hated this stuff, not sure of what it was, but he knew he hated it. He quickly scooped up the baggy, and picked up each of the needles with great care before moving into his bedroom. Moving directly to the place that he was not supposed to know about in his closet he opened up a box that said ‘Marriage photos’ and placed the powder and needle in there. Caden had thrown this stuff away once before but it soon lead to another encounter of the such, and a severe beating from his junkie mother.

After placing the powder and the needles he quickly returned to the living room, scanning it quickly in an attempt to decide the most effective way of cleaning it. Caden moved to the coffee table correcting the magazines, his meticulous mind had started to become more concentrated on exact placement and neatness. After dealing with the coffee table he moved over to the end table picking up the family picture which was always turned down after one of the encounters. Unsure of the meaning of it he turned it up, his eyes looking on the shattered glass inside the frame. His hands began to tremble still holding the frame, knowing that he would be blamed for the breaking of the picture. Setting it down softly he then moved to the kitchen finding a mess of spoons, lighters, plastic cutting boards and knifes.

Fear began to run through his mind as the hot water nearly burned his skin, Caden’s never endings were on fire. Rinsing all of the cook wear attempting to remove burn marks from the spoons he reached out for the next item, grabbing an exposed razor blade, which sliced into his palm, the shallow cut leaving a thin red line of blood seeping out of him. He let out a yelp of pain, as he drew his hand in front of him in an attempt to look at it. Caden’s shoulders began to shake as he sobbed; there was no way that he could finish the clean up to a point where his father wouldn’t notice anymore. Caden knew what was coming, he knew the terror that lay ahead of him, and he knew the pain. He looked out of the kitchen window towards his mother who had begun to stir; the euphoric feeling of the high was beginning to wear off, soon to leave her lethargic and weak, much like a drunk.

Caden leaned up against the counter, lowering his body to the floor he sat there, drawing his knees to his chest, as the tears flowed down his face. He knew that there was nothing more that he could do, his father would be home soon and he would have to pay the price for his mother’s mistakes. Caden’s water filled eyes moved to his mom, Cecelia, who was stumbling into the kitchen holding onto the wall to prevent her from falling. Caden felt his heart break every time that he says her like this, he hated her with all that he was, he wanted to beat her just like his father did him.

“Si sono sani Caden?” his mother slurred at him, her pale green eyes seemed to pierce his hatred for the woman, bringing the warm feeling that only a mother can bring. Caden ran through the phrase in his head, ‘was he okay?’ no he wasn’t okay but he would not tell her as such. Caden tormented by his feelings felt more water rush to his eyes as he slowly nodded his head, he hoped that she would take the blame for the mess created in the house. His mother moved to him laying a tender hand on him, attempting to clean up the blood that was slowly seeping from his hand. As he wept his mother leaned into him speaking in his ear “Mi dispiace, ti amo.” Caden’s mind raged with anger as his heart melted with love, his mind raced ‘She says she’s sorry, and that she loves me, but what kind of love is it when you only cause pain’. Just then a car pulled into the driveway, the door shutting, Caden’s pain was about to get worse and he knew it.

A few moments later the door opened revealing Caden’s father, an angry Italian, who thought the only way to prove a point was with pain. Upon seeing the house in disarray he bellowed through the house “Toria “.

“Please Vinny, it wasn’t my fault, Caden was causing a ruckus” his mother yelled at his father, whose real name was Vincenzo Milena. The next thing Caden saw was his father, a man who was about 6 feet with deep black hair, and rage burning in his eyes. Pulling off his belt, walking closer to Caden he spoke to him, his accent breaking through on the English words.

“Boy what did I tell you last time, when will you learn?” Caden braced himself as his father drew his hand back. A sharp pain dug into Caden’s shoulder as the belt landed on his skin. Letting out a yelp, he felt himself lifted to his feet by the large hands of his father. “Don’t have anything to say for yourself” Caden tried to speak, the words were either to quiet or never left his throat as his hand landed on his face, sending a shocking pain through his body. His left cheek turned a bright read and his head began to throb, letting his eyes drift to his mother who had began to sob, but would not stop the brutal attack. Before Caden could brace himself for the next attack he left as if he was not in control of his body, as he was shoved into the breakfast table that was kept in the kitchen, digging deep into his stomach causing him to bend over in an attempt to catch his breath. His father continued the vicious attack until Caden was on the ground curled up in the fetal position, his body now numb due to the amount of shock it had received, he was sure that he was going to be back and blue in the morning. Caden used to pray that his teachers would notice like they did on TV, but they never did, whether it be from there were no visible marks or just not caring. Being lifted up one more time and carried to his room by his father, more like a piece of trash rather than a son. Caden’s body collapsed on the bed, still shaking violently from crying, but the tears had stopped flowing long ago. Just before his father left the room he turned back to look at Caden speaking one last phrase, “You are too weak to be my son.” The words cut Caden deeper than any knife ever could, he closed for his eyes and wished to be removed from this place, but no help would come.