Cinders

~63~ Tortured

I come out of my room about an hour later and dad is ordering some dinner. He knows mom's favorite comfort food is Mexican, so he's ordering a feast from the sounds of it.

"You didn't need to order anything, I can cook." Mom says, shaking her head.

Dad chuckles "El, I don't think even YOU can make one slice of turkey and a hotdog into a meal. There hasn't been real food in this fridge in...well, ever."

"You guys seriously eat out every night?" Mom asks with shock and disdain.

"No, thank you very much....We have grilled cheese and Funyun night—I try'n give him a proper meal once a week."

"You're ridiculous," mom chuckles as she shoves him lightly.

They see me now and mom smiles gently. "How you doing, love?"

"I feel like I've lost my best friend." He WAS my best friend. He was going to be my dad. He was going to take me to the casino when I turned 21–I feel empty.

Mom makes a pained sound under her breath. "You can call him if you need to. I'm sure he'd like that."

"What's the point?" I ask as I go back to my room. I just wanna be alone.

~*~

Once the food gets here, dad silently brings me some. He sits on the edge of my bed for a minute, waiting to see if I want to talk—I don't.

"I love you, sport. I'm so sorry you're hurting. I wish I could take the pain on for both of you." He says, getting tears in his eyes.

I don't say anything as I lie back down on the bed. I stare at the ceiling, ignoring both my dad and the food.

"I'm here if you wanna talk, kid." He says, lightly patting me on the thigh before he gets up and leaves.

Dad comes in about an hour later and takes the food away—I never even touched it.

A little later I hear them talking—It's about 9:00 pm by now. "Ok, El. I changed my sheets...You take my bed."

"I'm not taking your bed. I'll just crash on the couch."

"Oh no you don't; My bed is miserable! I'm NOT giving you my comfortable couch. I don't love you that much, friend."

Dad must REALLY love her. That couch gives a person the WORST backache if they sleep on it all night.

"Thanks," she says with sadness in her voice.

"Tomorrow is a new day—Get some sleep, El. I love you."

"Love you too," she says as she goes into his room and shuts the door.

I get up once mom goes to bed and I go to the kitchen for a drink.

Dad watches me silently, and I suddenly feel guilty. I take my water and sit next to him at the table.

"Just because I'm sad, it doesn't mean that I don't love you. I'm glad you're my dad."

"I know that." Dad says quietly. "I appreciate you saying it though."

"Think they'll work it out?"

Dad simply sighs.

"You know what happened?" Somebody needs to start giving me some damn answers. My life just fell apart.

"Yeah, mom told me. No...I'm not gonna tell you. If she wants you to know, she'll tell you. I don't know if they'll get back together or not, Liam."

"It's that bad?" I ask, completely devastated.

Dad doesn't say anything as he takes another drink of his beer.

"You want my bed?" I ask him.

He smiles slightly and squeezes my shoulder. "Thanks, but no. I'm REALLY excited to sleep on this couch."

I roll my eyes and give him a kiss goodnight.

Tomorrow is a new day, but it's gonna feel the same as today does—Horrible.

~*~

I was right...Today feels horrible; I wake up with a headache. I guess crying all night does that to a person.

Mom still isn't out of bed yet, so I just get ready quietly and wait for dad to take me to school—He's already dressed in his uniform.

"How'd you get your clothes?" I ask.

"I snuck in a little bit ago to grab them—She was asleep. I used your shower though," dad says quietly.

"Think she got any sleep?" I ask, looking towards the closed door.

"I doubt it. She was sleeping when I went in, though."

"Have you called Taylor?" I ask. He and dad have become friends the last couple of years, and I just need to know how he is.

"No, not yet. I'm gonna give him a couple of days before I do. I bet he's doing worse than your mom is."

"You ready?" He asks, grabbing his stuff off of the counter.

I nod. "I kinda hate to leave her."

"I know, but I also know your mom. She's going to want to be alone today," he says as he pulls me into a side hug. "Come on, let's get you to school."

~*~

My day goes by slowly and my friends all give me space. I told them what happened, and they feel awful—Duncan especially. "Dude, I'm so sorry. This doesn't even make sense. I've never seen two people more in love," he says, giving me a hug.

"Yeah, it sucks." I say, fighting the tears that I feel coming.

I power through football practice. Coach won't be easy on me today if I slack off again. Plus, I need the distraction.

When dad and I get home, mom has made lasagna and French bread.

"Wow!!! I've never had smells coming from the apartment like this before," dad says, sniffing appreciatively.

"Eleanor Jane Freeman, is that chocolate lush? .....That's my favorite. You sure ya wanna find your own place? A guy could get used to this," he says, wrapping her up in a big hug and kissing her forehead. "How you doing today, buddy?"

"Horrible," she says with a forced smile.

Dad nods. "Yeah, I figured..."

We eat dinner silently, watching mom push the food around with her fork. She looks like a completely different person. The bags under her eyes are huge, and she's even paler than normal. Her hair is in a messy bun...Not a cute, normal one that girls wear...A literal messy bun.

After dinner, I just can't handle being around her—She's making me too sad. I decide that I'm going to go see Taylor...I have to. I miss him so much.

I never even got to say goodbye to him.

"I'm going to run down to the corner and get a soda. Do you guys want anything?" I ask, looking at mom and dad.

"No champ, thanks," dad smiles. Mom just shakes her head.

I call a cab as I'm walking, and they get to the corner gas station quickly. Before I know it, I'm at our old complex.

How can a place I've called home these last two years feel so lonely?

I walk down the familiar hallway and stand by our door—Staring at it.

I have to knock now. How weird is that?

I knock and wait. Taylor opens the door a few moments later, and he looks worse than mom—I don't even think that he's slept.

He's the picture of a burning man. A man who's heart has been ripped out; Death would be more humane than this.

He's tortured.