Chapter 4

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"I'm going out to see Marvin, alright?" Chase asked, grabbing his backpack and making sure he had everything he needed in it. Stacy looked up from her book, biting her lip.

"Chase..." She mumbled as if she expected Chase to know what she was thinking. He did, of course, as he had become a master at understanding her conflicting emotions and thoughts. She wasn't going to let him go out.

"Please?" Chase felt pathetic. At what point in his life had he succumbed (here's a little fun fact: I wrote this part whilst I was on a plane from Cyprus to England and I couldn't spell succumb. I couldn't search it up on the internet either so it was a fun time) to being controlled by the very woman he had once fallen in love with? At what point did he decide he needed to beg to go out with friends? At what point had he lost his free will?

"You forgot about Sammy last time. I don't know if I trust you enough to go out again."

"I-" Chase opened his mouth to continue before snapping it shut. He couldn't argue. If he did, he'd make things worse for himself and he couldn't handle much more. There wasn't any point either, Stacy was the most stubborn person on Earth. Once she had her mind set on something, there was no way you were going to be able to change it.

-

Chase typed out the message which let his friend know he was bailing on him. Marvin seemed alright with it but Chase couldn't help the amount of guilt he was feeling. He had bailed on him twice in the last week or so. He found himself missing the magician too. He was strongly in need of a friend; someone to tell him that everything would, one day, be alright.

-

At what point Chase had started to console in alcohol rather than his friends or family, he did not know. What he did know was that, more often than not, he spent the nights that Stacy left him alone and the children weren't home getting smashed. Much to his dismay, he was rarely home alone. That night, however, he was. He couldn't remember how much whisky he had consumed but he knew it was enough that his words were slurred and his movements were messy.

He had an empty bottle of whisky at his feet and another, half full one, in his hand. The television was on but it might as well have been on mute. Chase wasn't paying any attention to the moving images or sounds being released from the screen. His body was trembling violently and the world was spinning around him, making him feel nauseated. It was at that moment that Alex walked in the front door. The noise and force shook the building and Chase's head jolted up.

Alex walked into the living room before Chase had time to hide what he had been doing. "What are you doing?!" Alex practically yelled, running towards his dad who smelt strongly of alcohol. The young boy noticed the empty bottles and frowned, cautiously holding out his hand for his dad to take. He didn't.

"Leave me alone, Al." His words were messy and slurred together, making his internal state apparent.

"Is this because of what happened the other day? With mum?"

"Didn't want you to see me like this... I'm your dad and I'm meant to be a role model..."

"You are a role model, dad. It's not your fault mum's... mum's got a short temper."

"Yeah," Chase smiled but his face seemed distant, as if he was only half there. His eyes were clouded and he was staring behind Alex, rather than at the boy. "That's what it is. Short temper."

"Dad," Alex's eyes were wide and vulnerable: he didn't know what to do. He had never dealt with a drunk person before, let alone his own father. "I think you should sleep. Yeah, sleep it off..."

Chase nodded but didn't take Alex's hand. Instead, he laid down on the sofa, passing out almost immediately.

-

"You got drunk?!" Stacy yelled, watching as Chase pressed a hand into his hot forehead. His head was pounding thanks to all of the alcohol he had consumed on the previous night. The hangover was enough of a punishment, even without Stacy shouting at him. "And Alex was the one who found you?"

Chase barely flinched as Stacy slapped him. Honestly, he had expected it. Hands pressed into his chest before he was shoved backwards. Chase was ready to just take whatever Stacy was going to give him: after all, he had practically been brainwashed into thinking he deserved it.

"Is that the kind of role model you'd like to be? One your son feels sorry for? That's pathetic." Chase glanced up into Stacy's eyes, practically pleading for mercy as she towered over him, despite actually being smaller. He felt like a tiny ant as Stacy was raising her foot, ready to squish him.

"He wasn't meant to come home..." Chase murmured, a final attempt to defend himself. Stacy appeared less than impressed and, if anything, the statement just made Stacy all the more angry. Her face was bright red and steam might as well have been coming out of her ears.

"Alex is going to be embarrassed to have you as a dad. He's going to think you're pathetic." Chase let out a sob that was all but gently as Stacy raised her hands to shove Chase harder. He stumbled, legs buckling beneath him as he tripped and fell backwards. Time sped up as Chase's head smashed into the coffee table that stood in the middle of the living room.

Stacy let out a high-pitched scream, her hands flying to cover her mouth in shock. Her eyes were wide as she stumbled backwards herself, unable to tear her gaze away from her unconscious husband. Having heard the commotion, Alex came running into the room to find Chase lying on the floor, blood dripping down the side of his face. "Oh my God..." The young boy muttered in disbelief, his whole body beginning to tremble due to the sheer amount of fear.

"He fell. He fell." Stacy kept repeating, as if to convince herself too. Alex knew the truth though. He knew what his mum was like behind closed doors.

"You pushed him." Alex was backing up, his hands out in front of him in defence. He was petrified, no longer seeing his mother in front of him but a potential murderer. It was not the woman who had raised him; not anymore.

"Alex, come here and listen, I didn't. He tripped and fell, alright? You didn't see so how would you know?" Stacy's voice was creepily soft and she had tears streaming down her cheeks. It must have been the first time Alex had seen his mother cry.

"I know what you did to him." Alex's voice was quiet because he was taking a gigantic leap of faith with his words. Stacy's face grew red, the colour of Chase's blood, as the words registered. Alex didn't have enough time to analyse how his mum felt before taking off into the hallway. He needed to call for help and get away. His mum might have been dangerous, he needed to find safety and his dad was in need of saving.

Knowing full well he needed a phone, he headed upstairs. He almost tripped a million times because the adrenaline was heightening his speed. He could hear Stacy behind him so he dived into the first room he came across: his father's. He slammed the door as quickly as possible, his heart pounding at a rapid speed inside his chest.

Alex fumbled around the room, pulling open random draws and searching beneath the bed. "Alex, I swear I didn't hurt him." Stacy was sobbing from the other side of the door. Alex didn't pay any attention, not planning on letting it phase him before he called for help. Eventually, he came across the man's backpack and found his phone inside. Smiling a wavering smile to himself for finding it and trying his hardest not to panic, he switched the device on. When it asked for a password, he bit his lip for a moment, having not thought that far ahead. He contemplated it for a moment before inputting Chase's birthday. Stacy's birthday. He would have tried Marvin's birthday had he known it. He tried the year his mum and dad got married (the year he was born). He paused, hands hovering over the numbers as he debated what to try next. He settled on his own birthday and the phone unlocked. The door flew open to reveal Alex's mother and he gripped the phone as tightly as possible. "Give me the phone, Al," Stacy whispered and Alex knew he didn't have much time. "I swear, if you message anyone..."

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