Chapter 29: A New Beginning

Chapter 29: Chapter 29: A New Beginning

Damon's eyes shone with excitement as he stood his mom up. "Mum, I have one thing to tell you," he said, his voice trembling with anticipation.

Aoife's eyes widened in surprise, wondering what else could be so important that Damon would end the day with.

But seeing the smile on his face, she reassured herself that it wasn't bad news.

Damon held his mother's hands, his grip warm and gentle. "Mom, from today onwards, we won't be sleeping in the alley," he said, his words spilling out in a rush.

Aoife's eyes narrowed slightly, confusion etched on her face. "What do you mean, Damon?" she asked, her voice laced with curiosity.

Damon's smile grew wider. "I have money for us to stay in a motel," he said, his words tumbling out in excitement.

Aoife's eyes widened in shock, her face pale. She hadn't expected this. "A motel?" she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper.

Damon nodded, his eyes shining with excitement. "Yes, Mom. We can stay there tonight. We won't have to sleep in the alley anymore."

Aoife's face crumpled, tears welling up in her eyes. She had never thought she'd see the day when her son would be able to provide for her like this.

Damon pulled his mother into a tight hug.

Aoife wrapped her arms around her son, holding him close. She felt a sense of pride and gratitude towards Damon.

He had done this for her, for them. She knew that she could always count on him.

As they hugged, Damon felt a sense of relief wash over him. He had done it.

He had found a way to get them off the streets, he also knew that this was just the beginning.u

Damon's eyes sparkled with determination as he broke the hug. "Let's take this stuff," he said, his voice filled with excitement.

Aoife paused, her eyes narrowing slightly. "We're going now?" she asked, her voice laced with confusion.

Damon chuckled, his smile wide. "Yes, Mom," he replied, his hand reaching out to grab the bananas and half bread.

Aoife's eyes widened as she realized what was happening. Her son was taking her to a new life, one where they wouldn't have to sleep on the streets.

Damon's hands moved quickly, gathering their meager belongings. The bananas were a bit bruised, but they would still taste sweet. The half bread was stale, but it would fill their stomachs.

And that was it, he knew that. But that was what they had when they fled to the US, with nothing but a few belongings and a hope for a better life.

Damon's mind raced with these thoughts, but he pushed them aside.

It wasn't much, but it was better than the alley.

It was a place to call their own, if only for a little while.

He turned to his mother, who stood beside him, her eyes fixed on the motel with a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

"It's not the Ritz, Mom," Damon said, his voice low and even.

"But it's a roof over our heads."

Aoife nodded, her eyes never leaving the motel.

"It's fine, son," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"It's fine."

Damon and Aoife walked towards the office, their feet crunching on the gravel parking lot.

As they approached the door, they noticed a woman sitting on the ground.

She was dressed in tattered clothes, her hair a mess of knots and tangles.

When she saw Damon and Aoife, she smiled, revealing yellow teeth.

"Hey man, I can give you head, just give me some money, man," she said, her voice slurred and desperate.

Damon widened his eyes in shock, his mind screaming 'What the fuck!'

He looked at the woman, trying to process what was happening.

"No, sorry," he said quickly, trying to move past her.

Aoife followed close behind, her eyes fixed on the woman with a mix of sadness and relief that her son never did drugs.

They passed by the woman, relieved that she didn't pester them further.

Damon didn't feel bad for refusing her, he was sure that everyone who passed by knew that giving in to her requests would only help her ruin her life more.

The woman's eyes followed them, her smile fading into a scowl.

Damon could sense her desperation, her addiction, and her hopelessness.