Seeing Shane Gray ✓

forty three | wish

December 3

*.*.*.*.*.*.*

I make it home somehow, dripping wet because I didn't bother carrying an umbrella, being absolutely unaware of the forecast and oblivious of the world outside my head. My body feels drained and head heavy, the last ounce of energy I have leaving my body as soon as I enter the house and see mom in the kitchen. I stop.

Dressed in her old nightgown, her hair flowing messily down her shoulders and stopping halfway, she's standing next to the island with a glass between her palms. I see her staring unseeingly at the drink, her eyes red and puffy but her face dry. Even from the distance, I can tell she's drinking again.

I want to scream.

Blowing out a shaky breath, I drop my school bag at the entrance of the kitchen and walk over to her. I take the drink from between her hands and she finally looks up, blinking when she sees me. She was clearly lost in thought and didn't notice me walk in.

"You're home," she mumbles.

I don't answer, walking around her to the sink and dumping the contents of the glass into the drain before dropping the glass loudly into the basin. By the time I turn around, Mom has dropped her head into her hands and is standing with her back to me.

"Where's Dad?" I ask Mom, my tone even.

She sniffles, crying. I'm tired of her crying. I'm tired of her drinking. I'm tired of Dad's absence and Shane's somersaults. I'm tired of being there for everyone and wishing someone was here for me. I'm just so tired of everything.

And maybe that's just how Carter felt before he killed himself.

Carter.

Carter Carter Carter.

All my thoughts go back to him. All my memories involve him. All my pain begins and ends with Carter.

CARTER!

"Mom!" I snap. "Where's Dad?"

She lifts her head and looks back at me, her wet eyes sad. I don't care how sad she is or why she's sad in the first place. I'm tired of seeing sadness. When was the last time the people around me were happy? When was the last time I was genuinely happy?

"I don't know," she mumbles.

A scream rips out of my throat and I grimace my face to hold myself back from setting the entire house on fire. I want to break everything that comes in my way. I want to destroy.

I want to destroy everything including myself.

Unable to hold on any longer, I drop to the ground. Mom gasps, hurrying over. I push her away.

"Where's Dad?" I demand from her.

"Taylor --"

"Just stop!" I cry out. "Stop it! Stop talking to me like you're my mom. Just a minute ago you were crying and drinking like that's all that will help. Stop acting so ... pathetic."

Mom doesn't answer but does pull back. On her knees beside me, Mom retrieves her touch, staring at her own hands.

I sniff, taking a few shaky breaths to calm myself. Closing my eyes, I run my hands through my hair and straighten up.

"Mom, I just need to see Dad," I tell her. "Please, I just need my father and my mother and ... I need anyone!"

My eyes sting but I blink back the tears and sit up.

"Mom?" I plead.

"Your dad lost his job," she mumbles, not looking up at me. "That's why he wants to go home. He says he can't handle this anymore."