The earlier post about Oscar’s family, as many have come to realize, was misleading. While all of it is true, it doesn’t indicate the fact that around a year before Oscar met Sam and Dean in their motel room, his mother disappeared. She taught him everything he knows, but of course the lessons were incomplete because he was only seven at the time. Oscar is a lot tougher than he thinks he is, but he will always be a mama’s boy and he will always miss her.
( Part 1 )
On day twelve, his head was swimming from the pounding headache of hunger. His body was already frail and weak. Without enough food, he could barely see straight. He packed up a cloth bag with some supplies, and ventured out into the dark.
He’d never gone to one of the human’s rooms by himself before. But he had to.
His mom’s lessons played on loop in his head while he scoped one of them out. It looked like it was empty. Viewing the room from the vent near the floor, Oscar could see a few crumbled pieces of cereal under one of the beds, just in the shadow. His stomach yowled pitifully at him and begged him to run out and get the abandoned food.
He almost did. Oscar had one leg up and ready to swing over the edge of the vent when the bathroom door to the side flew open and a human stormed past, making a beeline for the front door. Enormous shoes stomped into the carpet, and Oscar felt the shaking from his hiding place.
He flinched all the way back to the far end of the air conditioning duct. Oscar sank down to sit against it and shivered, quiet tears racing down his cheeks. Humans were so big. He hoped he never had to deal with one in person.
His stomach whined. Oscar stood up and went back to the vent to peek out.
The human left. This time, Oscar waited and listened even harder to make sure there really weren’t any giants in the immense room.
He dashed out across the floor, his heart pounding. He snatched up every crumb he could find, stuffing them all into his bag and finding that it wasn’t as full as he’d hoped it would end up. But that was it. He sprinted back to the vent, losing the nerve to check out the rest of the room. It was too big. The space around him was too wide and threatening.
Oscar saved the crumbs for as long as he could. If he ate later in the day, he might be able to go to sleep without pains in his middle from monumental hunger. He made it to late afternoon before he thought he might not even have the strength to pick up his bag. And then he tried more dethreading, but his hands were shaking.
He snuggled under the blankets in his mom’s bed again that night, desperately trying to keep himself warm. As he took deep breaths and tried to calm his fearful heart, Oscar went over the events of the day. He’d have to do the same thing tomorrow, and the next day, and the next day. He’d have to collect food on his own now.
She wasn’t coming back, and the realization brought on more tears than even the hunger did.
Oscar was alone.
Writerly Things 