Chapter 2 : From chaos to solace : a father's fury and an unexpected refuge

I returned home after spending the entire day smoking outside with my friends. I was tired and in a miserable state, just wanting to sleep. However, as I opened the door, I heard screams coming from the kitchen. I didn't know what was happening. I quickly entered to find my father yelling at my mother, hitting the wall, and saying to her, "I just want to know where the money I leave for you every day goes. That I've become indebted to the grocery store for that amount. How will I pay off that debt? Tell me." . My mother raised her head, saw me, and lowered it to the ground while he continued to insult and scream at her. As he raised his hand to hit her, I intervened, grabbed him, and said, "I'm the one taking the money you leave on the table. She has nothing to do with it. If you want to hit someone, here I am; just leave her alone." Upon hearing this, he threw me to the ground and started kicking, slapping, and gasping in anger. I couldn't. Rather, I didn't want to defend myself as it was his right. He goes out to work, breaking his back, while I calmly take that money and go to smoke with it.

My mother intervened, crying, screaming, and pleading, "Please stop, you'll kill him." He got up from on top of me, panting with tears in his eyes. He spoke words that felt like swords piercing my heart, "We're sacrificing ourselves for you to study and build a future for yourself, only to repay us with our toil. Look at how much effort and time we've invested to raise you into a man. Your shoulders have grown larger than mine, yet you still take the money I leave for household expenses. You make your mother go out and embarrass herself, buying on credit. Get out of my house, and I don't want to see your face again, you disobedient child. I don't need an addicted son stealing money like you. Pack your things and leave, never return to this house. Forget that you have parents." All the punches and kicks I received from him were nothing compared to those words. Add to that his crying and his shattered hopes. 

I went to my room, gathered my clothes, and when I came out, I found him holding the door open, waiting for me to leave. I exited the house, and when I turned, I saw my mother crying and bending at his feet, saying, "Please forgive him. Give him another chance. He's our only son, born of our hardship. You want to throw him to the streets." I couldn't bear to see my mother in that state. Before I left, he called out, "Mike, catch," and threw 100 dirhams at me. He turned and locked the door. I began to look around, seeing neighbors witnessing the scene. I refused to accept that humiliation, feeling a sense of disgrace. Yet, I brought this calamity upon myself, taking the money my father left instead of seeking a job and earning my own. What a wretched life. I slung my bag over my shoulder and began wandering in the night, unsure where to go. I lit a cigarette, headed toward the sea, walked, and contemplated what I would do with my life now. Where would destiny cast me? .

I began to feel tired and started looking for a place to hide and sleep. After a while, I remembered that my friend Brad had an apartment he rented with some friends. I tried calling him to spend the night there, but he didn't answer the call. After walking for a bit, I found a night guard monitoring the cars, and he called out, "Oh, young man, what are you doing alone at this time? Aren't you afraid someone might attack you or the police might arrest you?" I replied, "I don't care about what happens to me now." He approached and asked, "What happened to you, young man?" I told him my story, with some details omitted, such as taking my father's money. He felt pity for me and said, "I have a wooden house where I spend the night. You can sleep in it." I couldn't find words to thank him, so I just lowered my head as a sign of gratitude. I went to that wooden house, lay down on the floor, and all I could think about was my mother's tearful face and the disappointed look on my father's face. 

After a while, I drifted into sleep. I didn't feel myself until the guard woke me up with some food and said, "Wake up, let's have breakfast together." I told him he did more for me than he should have, but he insisted I eat with him. I had breakfast with him, thanked him, and left. I began to walk, contemplating what to do. Suddenly, Brad called me and said:

- Hey, Mickey, what's going on? Why did you call me last night at that late hour?

- I've got a problem and needed your help.

- What happened? Tell me.

- This isn't a phone conversation. Are you home so I can come to you?

- Yes, of course, you can come.

- Okay, thanks.

I started walking towards Brad's apartment. I arrived, knocked on the door, and he came out, saying, "Hey, what happened?"

- Well, this is a long story. Let me tell you about it inside.

- Sure, come in, come in...