The Cursed Son and the Hand-Holder

Kenneth still remembered the times when he was a good kid. You know-- the kind of kid who does their homework as soon as they get home and helps his sisters with the laundry. He never broke the rules and always did what he was told.
Kenneth still remembered the times when he was a good Mormon. You know-- the kind of kid who goes to church every single week and always looks forward to family home evenings. He never sinned and always did what he was told.
And though, there he was, sitting on the middle of a sidewalk, cigarette on his right hand, bottle of vodka on his left hand and waiting for the sun to rise. He flipped his middle finger to a girl staring at him with a disgusted look.
He was never the perfect kid, anyway. No, to his mom, he’d always be Kenneth, her cursed son who wrecked her family. Melissa knew he wasn’t doing it on purpose --after all, he was cursed, not bad--, but sometimes she wasn’t sure what to believe anymore.
Of course, Kenny was a good kid, always helping out at the hairdresser, constantly smiling and lifting anyone’s mood, but the repercussions that came out of that boy’s decisions were so incredibly terrible...
It wasn’t much, at first. He broke a few things, nearly set the kitchen on fire, made the laundry go purple, your average mistakes. Only then his actions became real dangers. There were lives at stake, and to the outside world, he couldn’t care less.
And now, there he was, lying on the middle of the road, cigarette on his left hand, bottle of vodka on his right hand and waiting for the sun to rise. He took another sip of the colorless drink and closed his eyes.
He was never the perfect Mormon, anyway. No, to his dad, he’d always be Kenneth, his cursed son who embarrassed his family. Nicholas knew he wasn’t doing it on purpose --after all, he was cursed, not bad--, but sometimes he wasn’t sure what to believe anymore.
Of course, Kenny was a good kid, always encouraging prayers, constantly smiling and lifting anyone’s mood, but the repercussions that came out of that boy’s decisions were so incredibly terrible...
It wasn’t much, at first. He couldn’t keep quiet on the church, ate more meat than he should ever dream of, your average sins. Only then his sins became real dangers. There were beliefs at stake, and to the outside world, he couldn’t care less.
Kenneth used to love the night. It was mysterious and yet, so easily understood, if you looked at it the right way. For him, all the best things happened at night. He dreamed. He met other worlds, he met other people. But most of all, he saw the stars and the moon.
The silence of the night was only disturbed by the traffic, two old men in a pub and the consequences of their existence. The sun finally rose.
These days, he doesn’t love the night anymore. In fact, Kenneth O’Hara doesn’t love anything anymore.