Object of Desire

In the quaint, slightly weathered house where Veronica had spent her own childhood, now dominated by her stringent rules and high expectations, tension crackled like an electric storm waiting to strike. Veronica, at 39, was a striking woman with a fit, curvy figure that she often emphasised with elegant yet conservative attire. Today, she wore a crisp blouse and tailored trousers, her chestnut hair pulled tightly into a braided ponytail that swung with each measured step. Her piercing gaze and poised demeanour spoke volumes of a woman who had mastered control, both within herself and over her household.

Liam, her 19-year-old son, had inherited his father's rugged good looks, albeit softened by a hint of youthful rebellion. His dark hair was tousled, framing a face that mirrored his father's in its features but not his wisdom. Today, he had opted for jeans and a worn T-shirt, a deliberate contrast to his mother's polished appearance.

The day had started like any other in their home, the old walls echoing with the familiar strains of motherly admonitions and stubborn retorts. Veronica's expectations were as high as the ceiling beams that had witnessed her own upbringing, a legacy she carried with unwavering determination.

Their argument that morning had escalated swiftly, spurred by Liam's defiance of Veronica's strict rules about his future and choices. She wanted something for him, while he seemed content with being nothing. It wasn't just rebellion; it was a clash of wills between a mother who saw only the path of success she had envisioned for her son and a young man yearning to break free from the confines of her expectations.

"You can't keep dictating every aspect of my life!" Liam's voice echoed through the hallway, a mixture of frustration and defiance.

Veronica's response was measured, her tone cutting through the tension like a surgeon's scalpel. "I'm trying to guide you, Liam. You're young, you don't understand–"

"I understand perfectly well!" Liam shot back, his fists clenched at his sides.

The argument escalated, each word a dagger aimed at the other's heart. Veronica's composure slipped, her control wavering in the face of her son's unwavering resistance. The house, once a sanctuary of familial warmth, became a battleground echoing with their heated words.

It culminated in a moment of unbearable tension, a final clash that shattered the fragile peace. “WHY DO YOU KEEP PRETENDING YOU KNOW EVERYTHING! If dad was still alive he would never have let this happen!” He yelled at her. Liam, unable to endure another moment under his mother's scrutinising gaze and suffocating expectations, stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind him with a rage that echoed through the old corridors.

Veronica stood alone in the hallway, her breaths shallow and her eyes brimming with unshed tears. The echoes of their fight lingered in the air, mingling with the ghosts of memories long past, of a time when life was simpler, and her husband's laughter still filled the rooms.

As Liam disappeared down the street, the weight of their confrontation settled heavily on both their hearts. The childhood home, witness to their love and their strife, stood silent, holding secrets of dreams shattered and hopes unrealized.

As Liam walked down the quiet suburban street, he found himself lost in a mix of anger and frustration. The evening air was warm and still, the sun setting in hues of orange and pink. Liam’s footsteps echoed on the pavement as he wandered aimlessly. He turned a corner and there, lying on the sidewalk, was a phone. It was an old-fashioned model, its screen displaying the words "New user detected" as he picked it up. Intrigued, he slipped it into his pocket and continued his walk, pondering its strange message. He walked until it was dark outside before finally deciding it was time to return to the ‘viper’s nest’ as he liked to call it.

Back at home, Liam flopped onto the couch in the living room. Veronica soon found him there, her disapproval evident in her furrowed brow and crossed arms.

“Liam, how many times do I have to tell you to be responsible? You can’t just wander off whenever you feel like it!” Veronica scolded, her voice sharp with frustration.

Liam sighed inwardly, tuning out her lecture as he pulled out the mysterious phone. He turned it over in his hands, trying to make sense of its purpose. The screen lit up, displaying a gallery of photos—random objects, people in various poses, and scenes that seemed out of place. It was a curious machine. It only seemed to have three apps, a gallery, a camera and an app to transfer in data from another device.