Together

Chapter Two

Death the Kid

It were dark as I pushed the front door open. Shadows dancing from corner to corner of the depressingly deserted room, praising the fact that not even did the moon's bright light beam elegantly through the blackening windows.

But it seemed that as I heard the door click shut from behind me, the darkness were eager to swallow me whole and consume me to take part in their dance.

"Dad?" I felt my lips shaking.

I could only hear my hesitant footsteps as they pressed quietly against the carpet. My black DC's growing quieter with every unsteady step I struggled to take.

The room's beer odour stung at my nostrils, causing me to hold my breath as I continued my stumbling approach through the swarm of darkness.

My foot tapped something gently, but with enough force to send it rocking hastily towards the ground.

It hit the carpet with a muffled thud, but still caused myself to startle as the noise was caught by my ears. Although the sound was there, but yet silent, I swore on my life I could feel my heart in my throat.

I bent down towards the toppled over beer bottle that were slowly spilling itself against the carpet, its strong sticky liquid feeding the air with much more of its bitter scent.

Brushing the tips of my fingers against its rim, I felt its icy remains sting against my skin, bringing a slight prick of pain to my flesh as I pulled my hand back towards my warmth.

Still cold.

The door to the stairs sat open just in front of me, the darkness continuing to dance its way up the stairs, begging me to chase after it.

I left the bottle, but I fixated my bag up higher on my shoulder, digging my nails into the felt to release an emotion which were either pain or anger.

It had been so long since they meant differently to me.

I walked past my mums chair. The brown leather still stained with her spilled wine and strong perfume that seemed to purposely catch my nose as I stepped past it.

My imagination formed her, sitting there, smiling. Her wine glass resting in her palm as the wine swirled round inside.

Her golden eyes would stare at me along with a smile that lit up every darkened corner around the room, and her teeth would glisten from the drink she'd past through her lips.

"Kid," she'd say, "have fun?"

I breathed deeply, placing my foot on the first step while staring up towards the landing, watching as it all seemed to grow darker.

"Dad?" I called out louder, "are you up here?"

Silence was what remained, nothing besides the thought of my own voice echoing back at me, in which I could tell - it didn't really exist.

The stairs creaked beneath my feet, sounding as if they were so depressed they just longed to crash beneath me. At least I wasn't the only one who wished to give up.

I expected to hear his voice, his slurred words unwillingly passing through his lips. I longed to hear the sound of his stumbling footsteps moving around inside the bathroom.

But my ears were touched with nothing but the sound of silence, and I despised that.

He was broken. He wasn't the same man he used to be. He was vulnerable, and delicate. His skin were like ice and the world around him was summer.

And I believed that it would eventually kill him.

My feet reached the last step. And as they did, the quiet sound of sobbing echoed through the darkness.

The sound itself forced my teeth upon my lower lip.

I stepped towards my fathers slightly opened bedroom door, pausing to take one of the most deepest of breaths I had ever taken.

Prepared to see his bloodshot eyes, smell the beer that rest upon his mouth and hear the words he had been weeping for the last three-hundred and sixty-five days.

It's okay dad. Tears formed in the corner of my eyes. I'm hurting too.

Digging my nails into the wooden door frame as I struggled to place one foot in front of the other, I breathed again - not wanting to.

"Dad."

And there I saw him. He were on his side, knees huddled towards his chest like he were a child trying to hide from their fears. But I knew well that no fear of his could ever pain him anymore.

Clutched to his chest he held a brown wooden frame that held a photo of no one other than my mother. Her radiant smile and glistening golden eyes staring passionately beyond the camera, towards my father.

And the smell of beer stroked my nose.

"She always wanted to be an artist," he laughed at his own slurred voice. "Did you know that?"

I stepped deeper into the room, "no, I didn't."

He laughed, "it was a dream of hers."

I held my lips closed firmly, refusing to let myself speak another word before I burst into tears. I knew it was okay, but I didn't want to.

"It's a shame, that she never got to achieve it."

My cheeks felt wet, "dad."

His voice cried, "I'll never see her again!"

"Dad!"

Chucking my bag aside, I threw myself to the ground beside him, just in time to grab hold of the picture frame before it left his hands.

"She's gone Kid!"

I wrapped my arms around him, "I know."

His tears splashed against my wrists, "I want her back so, so much!"

"I know..."

I buried my face in his chest, sobbing greatly into his skin as I listened to both him and myself weep throughout the night.