First.
The skies of England were sad and comforting, like an old friend who knows you the best. I opened my eyes, never squinting, to the same grey and familiar clouds.
My mother finished making breakfast downstairs. I heard the rattle of forks and spoons as I gazed out of my window. Just one more minute. I used to make bargains with god. Nothing was free for me. One more minute in bed and in return I'll clear the sink before I leave.
I said my morning prayer and got out of bed. What do I need to get done today?
The dress code in my school was strickt. Black sweater with a white collar and a neckless of a cross. Everything had to stay very humble and I loved it.
I sat next to my mother at the table and blessed for the food. She stared at me, making her frustration as apparent as she could, decorating it with a long sigh when I had finished.
"How long will this faze last?" she asked, and afterwards, we ate in silence. My mother was an intimidating woman. She was definitely three times stronger than I was and she always seemed superior to everyone and everything. Last year when her illness first occurred I remember her lying in bed with tubes everywhere and I couldn't detach my eyes off of her, in her worst position she still looked so strong and proud.
"Come here, Daniel." Her voice was crooked yet commanding. "Go get me my tools and papers."
"Mother please, pray with me" I remember begging "one prayer could switch–"
"-Don't make me get the whip boy…" she sighed and looked away from me.
When her coworkers came for visitations I picked from outside the door and I could see their fear and respect. She was always but always the one in control.
I washed the dishes and hurried out. My bag was perfectly packed, my shirt was perfectly ironed and my hair was perfectly brushed. I tried to wash that guilt that always sank in when I had spent time with my mother. I looked at the clouds. I felt a need for something and I didn't know for what, like missing someone you only met in a dream. The bus was fully loaded with suited and refreshed english citizens, they rubbed and pushed against me and I held the handle for dear life. My eyebrows were almost touching and my eyes were wide open as I stared ahead. What is it that I need? It was like an itch I couldn't scratch and I couldn't take my mind of it. People were so detached from the world around them, with their earphones on and their thoughts so far in the distance, their finger unknowingly taping on their knees to the sound of the music, or they were talking on their phones, arraigning, organizing… My shoulders started to twitch. This isn't what I need, give me something different, lord I have got to get out of this bus.
Stations passed through the long window like ghosts, and the minutes mischievously lingered a little longer than allowed. I bit my lip. As soon as the bus stopped at my school I launched out the door and took a deep breath of the cold english air. In-hale! Ex-hail! My once civilized hair now covered my eyes. The bus ride made me nauseous, inhale, ex-hale, I knew I couldn't sit through class, but it wasn't like me to skip school, so like always, I forced it. I looked up at my clouds and tried to relax.

Days were short that season.
I had a solid routine- after all the classes ended I went to my church that was close to school. I helped around, organizing the books, chatting with the nuns and whatever the hour required. My favorite nun and the closest thing I had to a friend was a fourteen years old girl named Lisa, she had innocent eyes and she was very different from the other girls her age. She had great sadness carried in her movements and in the way she spoke. Once when I was still a first year in high-school we talked alone and she told me about how her mother left her in that church at five years old. I asked her if she remembers her, and she said she remembers each and every second of that day, then she cried, and I hugged her even though it was forbidden. She was the only one I told about my mother's punishments.
After church I went to mother's work place. She worked in a big laboratory for archeology. Every time I walked in it was like a big red carpet was unfolded in front of me. All these pale faces with their glasses greeted me and asked how I was and white polyester gloves were waving at me from all over the gigantic freezing room. The son of the big boss, the heir of the terrifying Alma Ackerley.
She was of the group of archeologist that actually got to leave the lab and do field researches and expeditions, and she always let me go with her. You could say a lot of thing about my mother, but for certain she did believe in me. She had always let me take an important part in her projects. As an unqualified high school senior I was more privileged than most of the scientists at Swartz Lab for Archeology.
That day when we drove home she seemed far away and exited.
"Mother" I pled, "you're not concentrating on the road".
She smiled at me and than looked ahead, but than smiled at me again.
"I'm gonna have to talk to your teachers about your future absence." She grinned.
"What?" Mother never grins for nothing.
"We're flying to Egypt" she laughed as she honked three times.

Second.
I was running in the heart of an endless desert. I had to keep moving or my feet would be swallowed in the bottomless, burning sand. My thighs felt as if they were made of stone and the weight slowed me down. when my body became too weak to run fast enough, my feet came out of the sand dead and rotten like they'd been embalmed.
A redeeming voice came out of the distance of the clear skies,
"The plane will land shortly, please remain in your seats and fasten your seat belts". There was not one single seat belt before the sandy horizon. I panicked, even the voice from the sky could not rescue me. But then came hope, the center of the sky turned bright yellow and the voice spoke again. I stopped running to listen but the voice spoke in a language I did not understand. When I looked down, my legs and pelvis were already dead and numb. I dropped on my face and into the burning sand.
"Wake up, Daniel." A hostile voice penetrated my consciousness. I gasped and my eyelids separated like a door being kicked open.
״We landed".
My mother hated planes. I had only been out of England three times my whole life, and thats far more than she had. This expedition was something different than anything she'd experienced. When I turned to see her cold scolding stare pinned on my neck, I saw relieve. The wrinkle between her eyebrows that she was carrying around ever since the expedition was announced was gone.
The past month was very hard on my mother and I. I barely saw her even though I did not miss a single day coming to the laboratory. Million of dollars were invested and it was all on her head, needless to say she was a wreck. She returned home when the night was almost done and was gone after breakfast, and while she was home she was very agitated and aggressive. She took me to the basement at least once a week, it never happened so often before. Her whip made bruises on top of bruises that were still open, and I had to walk around topless for days so my shirts won't be stained. She didn't like to see my skin exposed like that. "Don't stick a reminder in my face of the things you make me do, Daniel." She said, but those punishments I didn't deserve. Usually I was punished had I embarrassed her, or acted out or if a teacher complained about me to her, but that month I knew she punished me for stress release. Every night when she came home she was looking for a fight.
On one sunday my church threw a fundraiser and I was in charged on mostly everything. When I finally came home it was well after midnight. I opened the door with a sweet thought about my well deserved bed, and that was when I saw her in the kitchen, siting in front of a book as large as two bibles while restlessly scribbling quick notes. She didn't even notice me coming in.
"Mother, why are you still awake? Can I prepare you some tea?" She looked like a thing from a horror movie, her eyes were red and swollen, franticly skipping from the book to her notes and her shoulders were twitching. My voice made her jump.
"Oh, isn't it Daniel Ackerley, the worldly known priest!" She yelled. Her mouth got so big. "Look at that clock Daniel, can you tell me exactly how late it is?"
I shrank. "But mother, I told you first thing in the morning that I'll come home late tonight."
"Late, is after dinner, late, is maybe around midnight but late is definitely not two am! Have you no responsibility?!" The louder she shouted, the more her shoulders twitched. I knew that if I didn't calm her down immediately I might not be able to wear a thing on my skin and I wouldn't be able to leave the house for days.
"Mother I'm sorry, I apologize-"
"I am you mother for christ's sake!" She interrupted me, " I am supposed to take care of you, but how can I take care of a son that goes strolling in the night with a bunch of statue worshipping coo-coos! Have you got any idea of how worried I was?" With every word she wanted to emphasize she banged her fist on the kitchen table. If she was not in a frenzy, it would've hurt.
"I had my phone on, I made sure to be available" I've gotten smaller And smaller. Her red eyes stared at a different part of my body each second.
"You know how hard the past weeks have been on me and still you never ever refuse to provide me with more reasons worry!" but than she suddenly stop yelling and looked at the floor, determined. "Thats it. Go to the basement. You're getting fifteen."
I panicked. I felt like a cold hand was grabbing my throat from the inside, and my blood started gushing madly through my arms. Never in my life, for my most infamous crimes against her have I gotten fifteen lashes. "No, mother, please" I half spoke half whispered "I'll make it up you, I promise, its too much, mother please…" I begged. I think tears came out at that moment.
"No." She said said emotionlessly
"Please, mother, there are other ways-"
"-Enough Daniel. Don't make me turn it into twenty." Her voice was cold like the hand grabbing my throat. I was too scared to keep resisting, so slowly I paces torwards the basement, hugging my ribs and definetly crying.
I went down the stairs, shivering and gasping for air. Fifteen…? My brain could not accept the decree. I took my black shirt off. My body's survival instinct versus my everlasting fear of consequences. I was losing control on my limbs. I bent down and leaned on the dusty table, my chick was mushed against the old smelling wood. My breath was all messed up and I inhaled the dust from the table. I started chocking. I heard my mother footsteps down the stairs.
"Mother please…" I coughed "fifteen… It's just too much." She ignored me. I heard her pulling the whip out of the box. When she was my age she was a horse trainer. Our living room was full of photos of her with her horse, she looked majestic, unlike the way she looked at that moment.
"Please… Please… Mother, please…" I was chocking on the dust. My face was all wet and messed. ״Not fifteen… Make it less…" She didn't answer. I looked behind my back. She was already standing behind me, struggling to untie the tangles in her whip, but her hands were shaking. She looked deranged. In the dark light of the basement I could see her lean, boney figure shaking. The battle between the unbearable lack of sleep and the massive abuse of caffeine was taking it's toll.
The moment I dreaded came as the whip was fully untied and ready. For a long second she stared at my eyes, like she was waiting for something, her finger relentlessly picking the strands of the whip.
"What? You want it to hit your face?" She finally said, but I couldn't turn around. I kept my eyes pointed directly at hers, and tried to control my uneven breaths. My ribs were hurting. My body was a mess. My face were all wet from tears and drool, and dust was glued to the left side of my face. I was trembling out of control but I kept my eye's nailed into my mom's till the last moment.
"Daniel," she took a fast breath "do not make me madder."
I turned my head back immediately. I pressed my forehead deep against my fists. That is it and its final. I prayed that I may pass out in the middle.
There was a russian prayer I once read that had a rhythm synchronized with my mother's lashes. Every time she would hit me I whispered this prayer so I could feel closer to my comforting god. It reminded me that there is a reason for my suffering.
I heard mother taking a step forward. I tightened my head as deep as I could into my fists. My body was terribly trembling, but my prayer was ready on my lips. Tonight I'm going to need two stanzas, I thought.
My mom's hand rose. A short but long moment of suspense arrived.
A lash. I flinched. My lips were moving. As long as the world's still moving, another lash. I groaned, but kept going. As long as the air's still sweet. Lash. Groan. Lord, won't you give to all of us, lash, groan, whatever it is we need. I took a deep breath but than a lash, I shrieked. Give a mind to the wise one, I clenched my eyelids and waited, lash, a shield to the enemy, lash, groan, give some gold to the happy man, another lash. That one was too much, I couldn't whisper quietly so I shouted it but with restrain- and don't forget about me.
"Enough with this bloody prayer!" Mother screamed. A lash came with her words. As long as the world's still turning.
"Enough!!!" A lash. But I definitely couldn't stop. Lord, if it will be your will, another lash, I shouted. The pain was too strong for my body to bear. Good, I thought, soon I will pass out. Give to the hungry for power. A lash, I shouted and the shout turned into a loud cry. A kingdom to rule his fill. Another lash, give some rest to the generous, God it already thirteen why don't I faint? A lash. Under a shady tree. I pierced my palms with my finger nails. Mother took a second and than landed the last lash. I breathed heavily. My palms were opening and closing without my command. I turned around to look behind me . I saw her standing, steady and in peace. Her eyes were calm and she wasn't twitching anymore. Her body was in her control once again. She looked at me while gracefully wrapping the whip around itself. "Go treat your wounds boy," she sighed "don't let them get infected." She placed the whip back in the box.
"I hope you had learned your lesson." her voice was soft.
Mother looked straight ahead as she climbed up the stairs like a royal.
I stayed bent at the dusty table. My eyes wide open and my breath not able to return to normal. My back was burning as if there were no cells of skin attached to one another no more. I felt the warm blood enveloping my skin, and closed my eyes, letting the tears out. The dark light flickered on my new soon to be scars, gracing them with a tender game of lights and shadows.
Wipe the stain from the face of Cain, and don't forget about me.

We stepped down the airplane stairs as a group. The expedition was unauthorized so us few members were picked thoroughly.
There were 7 of us: mother, I and 5 archeologist from my mother's group in SLA- that group that worked also outside the lab, it was actually a team of 15 members, but only the best of the best were picked, plus of chorus, the ones who had Alma Ackerley for a mother.
The patron who funded the expedition was extremely pedant when it came to examining the Candidates so in the end a lot of brilliant, hard working scientists were disqualified for really miserable reasons. There was this professor, a brilliant one, professor Watson, who was the only competition for mother. He was responsible for many big discoveries in archeology, if I may say, many more discoveries than my mother can claim as her own, but she was still the queen. The difference between them was that Prof.Watson was a shy, awkward, quite, repulsively looking man, while my mom was a proud and tall woman. Despite his brilliance and unmatchable record, the patrons disqualified this mega-brain simply for having mental issues that might and only might damage is discretion. Many other well educated archeologists were disqualified for allergies or a connection to a public figure or even a tendency to over-sweat. The funny thing was that while they were questioned, they didn't know what they were being questioned for.
My Mother's best friend was with us in the quest. Mother highly respected him, but also loved him as a person. His name was Benedict walker and he was scottish. He was a broad-shouldered man with hair somewhere between brown and blond, a beaky nose and a charming smile. Every saturday night we went over to his flat to eat dinner with his family.
When I was a young boy I always imitated him in every possible way- I watched the shows he discussed about with my mother and later tried to join the discussion even though I was way too young, at our dinner I ate whatever he ate and convinced myself to like it, and I always cut my hair the same as his boys. It never stopped though, even at eighteen I still looked up to him like a puppy. Every time he patted my head, every time he gave me a hug, every time he picked me from school I got so exited I must've waged my tail-bone.
I followed mother's back down across the airport when I felt his firm hand on my shoulder.
"Can you believe this? Look where we are!" He said quietly close to my ear and giggled. "Look at those mustaches!"
I looked around. The egyptian men had darker skin and black full hair. Many of them were dressed traditionally, and black, massive mustaches were clearly in fashion.
Ben looked at my face. Than wrapped his strong arm around my neck, strangling me. "I'm so glad you got to come!" He smiled widely and his eyes turned into a black chink. He loosened his grip but left his arm wrapped around me and looked forward at my mother. Suddenly his face turned serious, and his eyebrows sunk close to his eyes. "Just take care of your mother, yeah?" He said and stroked my shoulder with his hand. "These are about to be stressful times." He looked so concentrated. I flinched. I knew what a stressful time for mother meant for me. My skin burned just from the thought. I have to make sure I'm not staying in the same hotel room with her, I thought.
"Hey, don't look so worried, c'mmon, everting's fine!" Ben's arm shook my body. "No moping ’round here lad, leave the english brain behind, just look at those skies!" I wasn't calmed even by Ben's soothing voice. We walked next to an enormous long window. This truely are going to be stressful times. I wanted to cling to Ben and press myself as tight as I could to him and tell him everything, about mother, about the room, about the whip, about the texture of my back, tell him to keep me safe, beg him to keep me safe, but I couldn't. I just winded my arms around my ribs as always and tried to contain my breath. I look outside the window trying to find comfort, but the sky were illuminating blue, and not a single cloud in sight.