1 Rage

"Hey! What's going on?" I call out as I rush towards the crowd as fast as I could.

My heart was beating rapidly, on the verge of leaping out of my chest, and despite my legs aching after my arduous training, I bolted over at great speeds.

Such a large crowd around my mother's stall definitely wasn't something good, and knowing that, I was struggling to stay calm.

...

On the edge of Chinatown in Brooklyn, my mother had a small stall that she would sell handmade pastries and desserts from. Although she didn't make much from doing so, it was enough to scrape by, and it was something she had come to enjoy doing.

Since her stall was small, there were only ever a few people around it at once, and yet now there were at least a few dozen people, so it was clear something bad had happened.

Shoving through the crowd, with my mother's safety at the forefront of my mind, as soon as I reached the front of the crowd, my heart sunk.

My mother was sitting on the ground with her face in her hands, while her stall had been demolished.

It was completely smashed apart, with all the pastries and desserts she would work hard to make each night spread around all over the ground.

Obviously, I was enraged, but before anything, I rushed over to her side and asked frantically, "Are you okay? Are you hurt anyway? What happened? Who did this?"

However, I didn't receive an answer, and all she did was continue to cry in her hands, unable to speak from shock and utter sadness.

"All of you, get the hell out of here! If you aren't going to help, then just fuck off!" I yelled, annoyed by the large crowd that was merely standing around and watching my mother grieve.

They all probably saw what happened and didn't bother to intervene, so what was the point of crowding around the victim after the incident was over without even offering them a hand?

Some in the crowd were agitated by my words and tone, cursing back at me, but most of them just went along with their days as the crowd dispersed.

The world was a cruel place and most would just watch as a lone innocent woman was abused and had her stall ruined.

However, I couldn't blame them.

They weren't the cause of what had happened and it was my fault for being a useless son, not able to provide for and protect her like I always vowed I would.

While I also had a good idea of who was behind what had happened.

-

Moving my mother's hands away from her face, I saw a bright red handprint on the side of her cheek and immediately my eyes became bloodshot with rage.

As if destroying her stall wasn't enough, they even dared to lay their hands on her.

Helping her up, I gave her a reassuring smile and led her back home, trying to ease her sadness after the thing she relied on for her sanity and to earn money was destroyed.

However, my fists were clenched so tightly that my nails dug into my palms and warm blood trickled out of my hands.

It seemed as though the shock of whatever had happened rattled my mother to her core and it was only after we returned home and I gave her something hot to drink that she began to calm down.

"X-Xavier... Do you think we can put the stall back together and open it back up again?" she asked, barely able to stop herself from breaking out into tears again.

"Don't worry, mother. I will work another job and will handle providing money. All you need to do is be happy and healthy for me, okay?" I reassured her with a smile.

I was seething with fury and I felt as though I was going to explode at any moment, but I had to keep a calm and strong front while with my mother.

"But you've already sacrificed enough. I still want you to get back into school and..." she tried to refute.

"Stop. I already made my choice, and there's no point studying."

At 17, dropping out of high school even though my grades were pretty good, I broke the heart of my mother, whose dream was for me to pursue education, but I had no other choice.

My time at school was tough, and I had many problems, but that had barely anything to do with my decision to drop out.

Seeing how much my mother suffered as she cooked all night, and opened up her stall all day, just to barely be able to afford rent, I felt too guilty.

How could I not lend her a hand?

She had a very frail constitution and at the rate her health was deteriorating from overworking and all the constant stress she was under, she wouldn't last much longer and it was clear to see.

She was becoming even weaker and had already endured and sacrificed enough.

No matter how much she tried to get me to change my mind, I had already dropped out and began working as much as I could at a convenience store while looking for other jobs.

And if I hadn't done so, it was only a matter of time before she collapsed and was no longer able to work.

The pay was pretty bad, and as a rough-looking 17 year old, it was hard to find much work at all, but it was something, and at least I could ease the burden on my mother.

And completing my final year of high school could wait. It's not like studying is the only way to become successful.

-

Seeing that I was putting my shoes back on to leave, she asked, "Where do you plan on going at this time?"

"Um. Well... I have an interview for another job," I answered, trying to quickly think of an excuse.

"At this time?! It's night. Who has interviews at night?" she exclaimed.

"It's another convenience store that is open 24/7, so an interview at night isn't that unusual. Don't overthink it too much."

"B-But, why are you wearing those clothes? Aren't those the clothes that you exercise in? There are quite sweaty and I can smell you from here," she commented as she held her nose before giggling.

It seemed as though she was no longer as upset as before, which I was glad about, as I answered, "It's only an interview with a convenience store manager; there is no need to dress nicely. And I was planning on going for a late-night jog afterward, anyway."

Giving me a questioning look, it was clear that she still had her suspicions, and I had literally just gotten back from training.

However, before she could interrogate me further, I gave her a warm smile as I hugged her goodbye and rushed out of our flat.

She trusted me and didn't want to restrict my freedom too much, knowing how hard I worked and how much I cared for her, while she also thought of me as very responsible.

Or at least that's how I portrayed myself to her.

-

"He doesn't sit still, doesn't he?" I heard her say as I left.

My mother already had enough on her plate, so I had to keep things from her, and there were some things one just had to do alone.

I had done well to hide my emotions and intentions from my mother, but as soon as I left the flat, I couldn't conceal the burning hatred I was withholding.

Time and time again I overlooked what those assholes did, not wanting to get into trouble, but they had gone too far.

If they had only broken her stall, I wouldn't have bothered to go after them, but they dared to slap her.

It didn't end well for the last person that lay his hands on her and it won't end well for them either...